Look, you don't know what it's like, I'm telling you now. They only had 3 of us on today at Dagfields and there must have been 40 customers, easily. I wouldn't mind, but it's the reaching up to get things off the top shelves that I just can't do any more. And my tennis elbow's flaring up. I said to the doctor, I said, just give me another jab, because it's murder. Only, apparently, I've got the nerves of a ninety-year-old woman. My mother never had any trouble with her nerves, but that was probably all the butter she ate and she was a Taurus, so they're stronger, aren't they? Bullish, you see. I don't take after her. You do, but I don't. Detty takes after my mother. And Sinead. And Peter. And Kirsty. And Leo. And you do, a bit. Anyway, I've got a gammon in for dinner, so I'd better get that sorted out. Vaughn! Vaughn!! Will you put the gammon in? I can't, I'm on the internet...