"Bathroom's free!" I shout, adding "Unlike Briatain under this Blairite fascist junta."
"I see you've left it in the usual mess," says Mrs Duck, "And you're still too tight to buy your own shampoo."
"So, which one did you use, then?"
...is the wrong answer.
"You bloody liar. I'm waiting for the Tesco's delivery this afteroon. There's only..."
Oh God. In the heat and confusion of
"But... but... it said 'pro-vitamin' on the side and everything."
"The dog's gonna go rabid when she finds out."
And so, dear reader, I wish you Happy Christmas, from here, my corner of the doghouse.
Something else: Postmodern Sass on her quest to meet Neil Gaiman: Part One and the inevitable denouement.