The Nuclear-Powered Buttzooka

Poor old Jof is still eating Grunties for breakfast (remember, roughage makes you poo) as part of her stalwart diet.
It rained successfully for hours and the park had major puddle alert. Jof could have stepped over one but chose to jump it (against my advice) and ended up landing in it.
About 5 years ago, Bud made a Robot for me from offcuts, fragments and bits found in the metal bin at his work.
Constructed of 2 unrelated squares of Perspex with steel stand-off pillars making a sturdy box, it contains an inter-dimensional nuclear reactor cunningly fashioned from an old pressurised gas canister and surrounded by gold-plated connector pins and topped with a rotating fold-back CPU housing with heatsink and cooling fan. It is decorated with forward and upward-pointing missile launchers and moveable parts for little investigating fingers to explore.
2 1/2 years ago we had Robot #2 which lived and died during the firework display of November 2011. Today I sorted through the raw materials for Robot #3. We can't incorporate the Rivet Gun but that's great to play with, especially as it isn't loaded. But we've got some pressure gauges, adjustable rocket launchers, 2-way flamethrowers and many other titbits, so it remains to source some acrylic blocks tomorrow to build it on. I made a defensive wall of components on the dining table but had to take it down so we could have supper.
At swimming, Leo has moved up to Blue Hat and he was playing Nazi Guns against the Taliban in the car park with Thomas (pronounced "Taaaamss" like the well-known cartoon cat in Tom'n'Jerry, as voiced by the generously proportioned Maid of Colour) and Bud picked me up and attacked them with my bottom which farted and they said it was a 'Buttzooka' so I jumped on him in the driving seat and my butt set off the hooter and we all laughed so much I got hiccups again.
Then the nice lady from the council who gave us the prize for recycling said would I like to appear on BBC TV to talk about how good I am at recycling. My public awaits, Darling, tell you what, your people can call my people...