Hot dog...

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Percy and Reg in the Heatwave

Percy: 'I say Reg', what do you think about the weather at the moment?  I have to confess to feeling slightly warmer than usual this week'.  

(Note: Percy is of another generation, probably born into a time when rationing was still around).

Reg: 'You're tellin' me Perce, me old mucka'.

(Note: Reg likes to pretend he is from Chigwell instead of the upmarket Bath where he was actually born).

Reg: 'I'm sweatin' like a bleedin' turkey in December 'ere'.

Percy: 'Now look, young Reg.  Sweating is not the most pleasant of words.  Try using 'perspiring' instead'.

Reg: 'Yeah, whatever Perce.  Alright.  I'm PERSPIRIN' like a bleedin' turkey at Christmas'.

Percy raises eyes to ceiling.

Percy: 'I do miss our walks with our lovely fur mum, Reg.  She looks really fed up not being able to take us out'.

Reg: 'Yeah, right.  Jus' look at 'er.  Stretched out in the bleedin' garden wiv a cuppa.  Yeah, she looks real 'acked off'.

Percy:  'Now, now Reg.  You know how much she loves us, and it will be terribly upsetting for her that she can't walk us during the day'.

Reg:  'Perce, I fink you're missin' somefink 'ere.  Look at 'er.  She's taken most of 'er fur off out there.  Why can't we take our fur off too Perce? I quite fancy the idea of runnin' round the field wivout me fur on.  That'd give that silly dog round the corner somefink to talk about'.

Percy: 'Indeed it would young Reg.  Mainly as to why there is a 1'6" streaker running round the field sporting nothing but a red collar and a frenzied look in his eye.  Now put those clippers down and stop being so...so....Reg like'.

Reg: 'Not even a Mohican Perce? I could really lay down the rules on me manor then'.

Percy: 'Not even a Mohican Reg'.

Reg: 'Perce, me old fruit, you is just too sensible sometimes.  You gotta learn 'ow to live dangerously'.

Percy: 'Reg my dear chap, I have been doing that for the last two years, three months and forteen days'.

Pause...

Percy: 'Since you tipped up...'



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