Time for someone to grow up

My two nights in London this week were spent under the roof of Wee John and his flatmate Shane -  a top bloke.

In pre-dinner conversation on Wednesday, I asked Shane what height Wee John now claimed to be.

But, before he had the chance to answer, His Weeness jumped in with an answer.

"Five foot six and a half - maybe five foot seven," announced the most wee man I know. 

"Hmmm," I replied.  "And what height are you Shane?"

"Five foot eight," said Shane.

"Interesting," I pondered.  "That would make you a mere inch taller than Wee John.  OK, please stand back to back." 

So they did - that's Shane on the right.

And Wee John's a wee liar.