Zero Influence

Behind the bike shed in the garden of a building in Downing St. a red faced boy of 40 something in too tight shorts takes the fag out of his mouth and extends a packet to his companion.

Want a gasper Liz?

Don't call me that Dave! You know the Lizard of Oz really gets on my tits.

The aggrieved party is also wearing shorts of regrettably revealing dimensions. To the proffered fag he addresses a swift homily on the virtues of brand loyalty and declines.

Just think, Dave, if these were in plain packages I wouldn't be able to choose.

He takes out his own packet and sparks up.
They inhale deeply and, more or less, companionably for a few moments.
Liz the Lobby breaks the silence...

I offered Gideon a fag  the other night and the soft dingbat thought I was soliciting for my intern. Jesus, you Poms!