"It’s great to be free," quips rescued hostage.
He had 118 days to think of a bon mot: was that really the best he could do? He calls that hot? The SAS must be wondering if it was worth all the trouble to rescue the dull dog.
I already have my wisecrack prepared for when I get kidnapped. I stagger out into the sunshine with my ear hanging off –the fiends, what have they done to him?- my clothes caked in gore.
"How are you feeling, Hutton?" shouts a reporter.
"I’m fine thanks," I say. "How are you?"
Then I swagger off down the road like I’m all Errol Flynn and shit.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
