Little Hairy-Harry started with astonishment. He knew that voice, that wicked sense of humour. It was... ‘Yaya! Yayaaaaaa!’
He threw himself into the arms of his mate, his very shiny friend, at least, as best he could given the circumstances.
‘Cor blimey, nitwit, you bloody stinkbomb. You’ve grown up. Heck, but you’ve really changed. And ya got one hellofa stink on you. What’s happened to ya?’
Little Hairy-Harry noticed that Yaya was looking a little tight-lipped and was talking through his nose. He had also concluded their effusive reunion and was keeping himself at a fair distance. Yaya had cooled considerably towards him.
‘Oh, I’m so depressed... I’m weary of abso-bloody-everything. How I’ve missed you, my mate. If you only knew how much I’ve missed you!’
Little Hairy-Harry flung his arms wide, to welcome Yaya into them for an embrace, but... nada. Yaya wasn’t budging.
‘Listen, sweets. You take a shower and we’ll get back to things, okay? Sorry, old mate, but for a little hair, you got the honk of all time on ya. Woah! I can’t believe my schnozz.’
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