If you got your rocks off in your youth by swinging a 23 stone groggery wench over your shoulder, you should be very happy with your cannon. For a start, the cannon can’t talk, whereas a 23 stone groggery wench would be hard to shut up. 
If you’d captured a good groggery wench, of any weight, she’d be doing the hoovering for you.
Since reading T.G.'s reference to Hoovering, I can’t seem to shake offf this rather bizarre image of him running about dressed as a bewhiskered, French maid with a vacuum cleaner. 
In your nightmare, is he wearing a frilly apron over the nozzle? 
You’ve been having the same nightmare, eh?
Or have you both been using the same type of recreational “bizarre image” catalyst?
Busted!!!
You must have had a Little Nicky flashback.
