Yes, mum? Pa says coin this time, he don’t need no tickets.
“Dear me, Albie, Your Pa musta been in ‘is cups. It’s supposed to say ‘Illusions Galore’!”
“I took the order. That Waldo said – THAT,” he thumped the misprints.
Lydia-My-Lovely thumbed through one hundred handbills touting “Illusions With Gore!”
Brighton always brought Waldo and Lydia-My-Lovely trouble. Last time Lydia had been cut in thirds. No illusion: mortal wounds, fortunately they were immortals.
Waldo was a horrible magician.
“Tuppence.”
She paid the bill. Perhaps it was a serendipitous mistake.
Gore, galore.
Needless to say she had pulled herself together.