"Stop wiggling."

"I'm not wiggling. I'm just trying to breathe."

"If you ate less of those bloody Swiss Rolls there'd be enough room for you to breathe."


"This is all your bloody fault, you could have--"

"Could have what? He had a gun to your head. Even your hair won't stop bullets."


"For christsakes you don't have to put your thigh there!"

"Nowhere else to put it... Wish we could see."

"See what? Narnia? It's a bloody wardrobe, Doyle!"

"Hang on. We need to calm down and be logical about this. Think of a way out. I think I've got my penknife in my pocket, maybe we can force the hinge."

"... So what you waiting for?"

"I can't reach it, can't lower my arms. You'll have to get it, in my jeans pocket."


"Why are you groping my arse?"

"I'm not groping your arse. I'm patting your pockets to find--"

"It's in my front left pocket."

"You have room in your front pocket for--"

"Just get it!"

"Yes sir, right away sir. I think I've got--"

"That's not my penknife."

"You sure?"

"Yes I'm bloody sure, my penknife's only two inches long."

"Easy mistake to make then-- fuck Ray, be careful!"

"Sorry, I was getting a bit of a cramp in my thigh."

"Right... I don't think it's in this pocket."

"It's there. Right at the bottom, can't you reach it?"

"Not a lot of room in your jeans, they're cutting off the circulation to my hand. Doesn't it cut off the circulation to your--"

"Let's save any discussions for later. You've got one hand on my arse, another rubbing against my cock and unless I've lost sensation in my thigh, you're not unhappy about any of this. There's not enough space in this wardrobe as it is without talking about-- Why are you unzipping me?"

"I'm being logical, like you said. We need leverage room and your erection is taking up valuable space. Now if you'd just press a little harder with that thigh..."

-- THE END --

July 2008

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