“I wish you’d told me about the 60’s fancy dress party, Margit, I’d have brought an outfit with me,” said Idle.
Margit looked at her friend quizzically. “What makes you think there’s a fancy dress party?”
“Why, all the beehive hair do’s! It’s the only explanation I could think of. If it’s not a 60’s party, then why…..?”
Idle noticed Margit eyeing her long grey dreadlocks distastefully. Self consciously she flung them over her shoulder, inopportunely landing the end of one of them in a plate of some foul substance the passing waiter was carrying.
Margit jumped at the chance. “Darling, how horrid! All that rams bottom sauce all over your hair! Do try the coconut shampoo I put in your bathroom.”