Little Hairy-Harry leapt within his hideout, turning in the direction of the voice.
‘Who are you?’
‘Yaya, who is this?’
‘Nitwit, meet my mate, Hollywood Billy, straight from the US of A, passing through and totally cool. You’ll see.’
Little Hairy-Harry was surprised, then charmed, then smiled, because Hollywood Billy did look really rather amusing. He looked a bit like Yaya, but with less hair and some funny physical peculiarities. Most noticeable, was a weird gadget he wore around his waist.
‘What is that you have around your waist, Mr Billy? I’m quite unfamiliar with it.’
Hollywood Billy looked at him gob-smacked, wide-eyed.
‘Yo buddy, are you kiddin’ me? That thing here? It’s a camera. I meet loadsa famous hairs on my travels and take pictures of myself with ‘em, as a sooovenir. Morelike to chat up chicks! Know whattah mean? My tricks work smooth with the guuurrls! A recipe for luuuv... Oh, yeah.’
And Hollywood Billy gave a broad, toothy grin.
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