A door which no one seems to have noticed before opens with a creek and a sunburnt, bearded figure in felt hat, singlet, shorts and thongs (the rubber antipodean variety) enters. Jeez, what are you lot all rugged up for? You could fry an egg on the pavement out there and we haven't seen a drop of rain in three months. Someone give me a cold beer for Christ's sake. His aged tortoiseshell cat follows more demurely lured on by the aroma of cream and roasting aurochs. She sees the other moggy by the fire and wanders over to say hello, and is there any Baileys left?
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