'Pleeeeeeeaaassssseeeee!' gasped Horace.
'It's for your own good,' mooed Bertha.
'I'm not convinced!' said Horace.
'Well Norma's then,' suggested Bertha.
'Errrr?' said Horace.
Bertha stopped and put Horace down.
'So what's the alternative?' she asked.
'....I could write a poem about her?' said Horace.
'And that would achieve?'
'Wellllllllll....' began Horace.
'Exactly!' said Bertha and she picked him up again.
'There's a thing called destiny,' she explained, 'and it's waiting for you to arrive!'
'Could you ask it to wait a little longer?' asked Horace.
'Sorry chum,' said Bertha, 'time's up!'
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