16. A little chit, a little chat

Little Hairy-Harry was in seventh heaven! At last, he had the opportunity to practise that which was known as ‘The Art of Conversation’. Having found a friend, he certainly planned to make the most of him.

‘Blimey, but for such a little hair, you can talk the hind leg off a donkey!’

Taking that for a compliment, Little Hairy-Harry continued unthwarted.

‘But where do you herald from? Oh, what a marvellous surprise this is. And are you a foreigner, perchance? Who styles your hair for you? Might I pet it, just a little?’

At that, he was reminded again of his frightful situation. His little hands. Still wedged in his hide-out. Little Hairy-Harry decided it was time to flail against the elements of nature, once more. He squeezed his little fists, clenched his little teeth, concentrated like blazes, pushed with all his might and... pooot!

‘Cor blimey! Now I get why it’s so whiffy around here. What the bloody hell do they give you to eat?’

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