“Do we have to watch this Great Bake-Off rubbish?” he asked.
“Come on,” she said, clutching the remote tightly, “it’s my one pleasure in the week!”
“The Rugby World Cup’s on the other channel. That’s only every four years!”
He stared at the screen, willing it to switch over. Some sort of brown cake mix swirled dizzyingly before his eyes.
“If I make you a cup of coffee will you let me watch the rugby?”
“Suppose I throw in a chocolate biscuit?”
Defeated, she flipped the channel and smiled. “You’re so persuasive, Jean-Paul.”
“Words are loaded pistols, my dear.”