The phone rang. It was Mr Nunn.
"I've read your Plog," he said, "about Mrs Nunn and the Vintage Vamps."
"Oh," said I, half expecting a telling-off.
"Have you seen their prices?" he said in a shocked tone of voice. "I've told your mum to sign up now and I'll take a cut. I'm going to put her out to work!"
"Dad, erm... wouldn't that make you a pimp?"
"Well, I prefer the term 'manager'..."
"You're putting your ho out to work for you, and taking a cut. That makes you a pimp."
"Oh well," he said cheerfully. "I'm in London tomorrow so I might check them out. Though you'd have to be interested in archaeology to give some of those girls a go. Byeee!"
Shudder.
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