Psst

Maud: What you doing?

Pud: Mind your own business bum-breath...

Maud: (whispers) You're not going on holiday ...

Pud: Shut up....

Maud: (bit louder) You're not going on holiday ...

Pud looks about, checking for eaves-droppers...

Pud: Beneath my nose is a button that activates a cat-size portal to the underworld where sausages abound and there are stuffed toys and stuff...

PAUSE

Maud: You're making it up!

Pud: Am I though?

PAUSE

Pud: Think I care about a silly holiday?

For a moment, all too brief I expect, the sun came out! But I am British and stoic, such trifles as bad weather do not concern me... I have gone with another Maud and Pud because you won't see him for a few weeks...