Come on darling, let us go – you and I – and completely re-fruit pastille the patio like we did back in the summer of ’72, that never to be forgotten time of flared nudity and flower-power wellies.
Oh, we had cheese too, but we never let the firemen see the gladioli, even if there was margarine spread over the stockbroker. But that was the autumn after the summer of love and so we never thought about what would become of the zebra finches once the marmalade jar was empty.
Still, though, you have to… er… thing… don’t you?
Ah, right then….
So, do you want to get the Ludo board out while I oil up the penguins then?
Or shall we skip hand in hand through the discarded burger wrappers and pizza boxes to go watch the sun set over the traffic wardens, once again?