Georgie wheels in her bike; as Martin spins around on his office chair Georgie wafts her hair over her shoulders like some kind of diva. While raising her arms up she sings in a tangy Geordie accent "Wor 'ave y' dun t' day t' make y' feeeeeel proud"

"It's never too late to try" chimes Martin, while nodding his finger at her. Georgie elastically bounces towards her desk screeching out the end of the chorus "Wor 'ave y' dun t' day t' make y' feel proud" On the last syllable her arms shoot towards the ground in a sweeping motion.

"Mornin' Martin"

"Morning Georgie"

" 'Ow woz your weekend pet"

"It was lovely; we took Mekale to her first cross country race"

"Did she dwindle at the back due to the fact that her childhood obesity doesn't allow her to travel over the speed of 0.007 miles an hour?"

"No actually, she came 27th out of 40"

"I'm over the moon for y', that's champion news. Because there's nothing worse than cheering half heartedly for someone whose cheeks have turned the colour of a cherry tomato and whose body has not got the capacity to run because it is saturated with an amount of fat that could keep the entire population of Africa alive for 38 years" Georgie smiles over enthusiastically towards her fellow co-worker. Martin attempts a weak smile.

"Can I borrow your nice scientific angle measurer?" Georgie inquires. Martin sheepishly passes it over to her. Without using the calculator Georgie proudly stands up and begins to wander over to Martin's desk. "I'll tell y' wor it is. Me and some of the other girls down at the poetic dramatical society are doing a little fund raising"

"Ooooh, another one"

"We're doin' a 96 hour weight lifting session, using only barrels produced by the nuclear power industry, for all the super morbidly obese hamsters in the north east area"

"Oh…erm…is that a big problem in the north east?"

"It certainly is Martin, did you know that every other 38 minuets an otherwise well respected member of the rodent community morphs into a furry bowling ball" Martin becomes flustered and confused. "If y' don't believe me log onto the website: . '' Georgie looks down at the clipboard in her hands as if the is reading something very serious, then with a radiant beam wiped across her face she stares into Martin's bewildered eyes." 'Ow much shall a put y' down for"

"Well…err…lets say…10per hour" muttered Martin sweating furiously.

"Nine pounds sixty? To continuously lift seven tones of radioactive material for 4 days?"

"Okay-20p per hour"

"19 pounds 20! Martin I don't think you fully comprehend the crisis of the situation"

"Sorry it's just I'm suffering from the credit crunch" Georgie returns to her seat. "£19.20 it is then pet." He tries to intervene, but she interrupts while surrendering her hands: "don't say another word about it, because I wouldn't want it to come between us"

Martin smiles feebly and lets out a deep sigh. All of a sudden a great mass of swollen rodents over through the office, Georgie sneaks slyly out of the door as Martin's screams fade away…