What Ho!
Springing easily to your feet with a cat like grace, you twist your ankle.
"Ow ow ow ow ow!" you comment manfully, grabbing your afflicted foot and hopping up and down on the other.
While wracked by pain, your day worsens considerably when you hear a familar female American voice bellowing a greeting to Timpson. The voice belongs to a particularly blighted red haired specimen of the species of sainted do-gooders, known on the society pages as Winifred MacGillicuddy, heiress to the MacGillicuddy dog food empire. She spends her off hours throwing up houses for the deserving poor and flinging hot soup down their throats by the gallon.
All very well, of course, if she didn't perpetually drop by your residence looking for assistance.
You hear her voice echoing from the landing below "Hey, don't trouble yourself Timpson, I'll just let myself in!"
Quaking in fear you
"Ow ow ow ow ow!" you comment manfully, grabbing your afflicted foot and hopping up and down on the other.
While wracked by pain, your day worsens considerably when you hear a familar female American voice bellowing a greeting to Timpson. The voice belongs to a particularly blighted red haired specimen of the species of sainted do-gooders, known on the society pages as Winifred MacGillicuddy, heiress to the MacGillicuddy dog food empire. She spends her off hours throwing up houses for the deserving poor and flinging hot soup down their throats by the gallon.
All very well, of course, if she didn't perpetually drop by your residence looking for assistance.
You hear her voice echoing from the landing below "Hey, don't trouble yourself Timpson, I'll just let myself in!"
Quaking in fear you