‘Oh bother,’ muttered Mr Glue, crossly. ‘Lady Gertrude of all people! What a pain. And I do wish she wouldn’t yell in rhymes like that. It’s really annoying.’
Then, scarcely pausing to draw breath, ‘Dearest Lady Gertrude,’ he said with a huge smile, sweeping his hat, sunglasses and all off his head and bowing. ‘What an absolute pleasure to see you. It’s been far too long.’
Lady Gertrude simpered. (It was a disgusting sight.)
Mr Glue turned to Colonel Crackpot. ‘Nigel! Sorry – I mean Colonel of course! Wonderful, wonderful! You must tell me how the fish are doing.’
Colonel Crackpot looked furious.
‘Mr Glue please don’t refer to the fish. My life no longer revolves around fish, it revolves around crime and glamour. And – I have had a plane crash!’
‘Goodness me,’ said Mr Glue (who, because he was Mr Glue, already knew about the plane crash). ‘Whatever next!’
‘Yes,’ went on the Colonel. ‘It was deeply traumatic and Hildegard is giving me cake and counselling to make it better.’
‘Splendid,’ said Mr Glue enthusiastically. ‘Oh my goodness, is that really a pair of flying trousers over there? I must go and see at once. Goodbye goodbye. Lovely to see you all.’ And in a flurry, he sped out of the garden.
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