• Vol. 06
  • Chapter 11
Image by

Anyone seen Marcus?

Sorry, didn’t catch that ...... I said we couldn’t believe our luck, the estate agent was just about to close and ...... Why must they have the wretched television on? Nobody’s watching the damn thing ...... mmm, but don’t you love that maple wood or whatever surround frame thing? Couldn’t we do that with ours? ...... Absolutely not! ...... Did you say there were more of those marvellous stuffed olives, Sally? ...... I’ll get Marcus ...... Marcus? MARCUS? ...... where is he? ...... Not sure about this blue ...... is it azure? ...... Look, can we move a bit, that bloody light is giving me the third degree ...... Fixed-rate mortgage, really? ...... Isn’t that Nigel with the blond gownless evening strap? ...... Let’s go upstairs, there’s no-one there ...... It’s a postcode lottery, isn’t it? ...... Sorry, out of prosecco ...... Marcus? MARCUS! ...... Wilson Pickett? Who he? ...... Oh yes, nearly forgot, the olives. Marcus? MARCUS! Where’s he gone for chrissake ...... So what IS Boris playing at exactly? ...... Well I feel sorry for Her Madge ...... what’s she keep in that little black handbag, that’s what I want to know ...... impressive though, 93 not out ...... did you see Ben Stokes? Unbelievable! ...... But it isn’t enough to be successful, one’s friends must fail ...... Christ, must we have every light on in the house! Marcus? MARCUS!

1