Vogue Williams

Or clay pigeon shooting.

Do you know those like ducks, you know, shooting ducks?

Not that I would shoot a duck.

Anyway, I was banging on the internet, of course, on Instagram, losing AirPods, blah, blah, blah.

A woman messaged me.

She's like, my boyfriend lost one of his AirPods.

We tracked it on Find My Phone and they were definitely in the house.

After an hour of pulling the place apart, I got the idea for him to put on a podcast and the AirPod he had in a separate room and walk around to see if we could hear sound from the missing room.

I think she means pod.

Missing pod.

We could hear it in every room we were in and I realized that it was louder when I stood next to him.

I moved my ear around his body like a sniffer dog and it was coming from the hip area.

However, his pajama bottoms had no pockets.

I turned him around and pulled down his bottoms.

Lo and behold, his air pond was in his arse crack.

Whoa.

Turns out he'd fallen asleep in bed listening to the dulcet tones of Alistair Campbell and Rory Stewart and Wood had fallen out in bed and then he'd lain on it and then put on his pyjama bottoms when he got up to make coffee.

As a point of clarification, he has disinfected said air pod and stopped listening to political podcasts in bed.

At least he found it.

That's very lucky.