The button

I was looking for the Apple telly button, but it was nowhere to be seen. Mr Pandammonium came in the room, and I asked if he’d seen it. He suggested under Mr Perkins, who was snoozing on his cushion, not doing noffink to no one.

I slid my hand very carefully under his sleeping self, disturbing him only enough to lift his head. I felt the hard edge of the button.

‘Found it.’

You’d think we’d’ve learned not to put things on Mr Perkins’ cushion by now.

I pressed down on the cushion underneath Mr Perkins so I had space to grab hold of the button without disturbing him further before surreptitiously sliding it out: Mr Perkins doesn’t take kindly to humans invading his space.

On this occasion, I was lucky: my hand emerged unscathed with the telly button.