Lukewarm Cup o' Kettle

Well, I was going to write about a lovely cup of tea, but Harry's been clawing my shins all morning because of his exclusion from the previous edition, so I'm going to shine the spot on his stage for a mome. He's had his site since April 2005. Swell. He's white. True. He believes that the term "on a plane" should be extricated from everyday use in favour of "in a plane", unless the person in question is actually atop the plane itself. Very true. He will eventually marry a globule. Indeed.

Oddly 'nough, he left a shoe on my doorstep yesterday.
"I've come to fetch my shoe," he explained later.
Soon the topic turned to stone.
"I've found that a big slab is the most visually appealing. Especially in the middle of the garden."
"But it's stone. Won't it rust?"
"Silly Hugh. Stone isn't a metal."
"Then why do stoners listen to metal?"
"BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!! That doesn't even make sense."
"I know."
"Idiot."

An hour or so after this, Ben popped up from behind a bush.
"That used to be me," he said, pointing rudely at Harry.
"It can be you again," said Harry. "I've been waiting for an excuse."
"Have you? Well, the bush is free, if you don't mind the odd twig in the thigh."
"Actually, I find it helps a lot. Excuse me."
And he leapt into the bush.

A further passing of time later, I was back in my train and visually undressing the back of passengers' heads.