“Hell’s teeth, Ethel, whoever took this photo shoulda told Chelsea what she looked like.”
Ethel peered over Norman’s shoulder.
“She’ll have taken that herself, Norman. They do that now.”
“Why’s she pulling that idiotic face, then?”
“That’s a pout, dear.”
“She looks like someone stuck her to a car windscreen.”
“She does look weird,” Ethel said thoughtfully.
“The things they get up to these days, dear God…”
“D’you remember, Norman….”
“Those cardboard cut-outs at the sea-side, fat ladies in bathing costumes. We’d stick our heads through the holes where the faces should be and… Norman?
I wrote a banker for this week’s Friday Fictioneers, and went off to the gym in the hope that the cross-trainer might elicit further inspiration. It didn’t – sorry – so apologies to Henry Fonda and Kathryn Hepburn for putting words into their mouths, and thanks once again to Rochelle, our inspirational leader.