London. Life.

“Drones at Heathrow!” announced Sandra, pointing at the screen that showed the rolling news channel in the office.

“What the fuck?” exclaimed Kellen. “I was about to go home!”

“Drone sighted. Flights suspended…” said Sandra, reading the text that was flashing up on the screen. “I was just thinking earlier today that the whole Gatwick thing had gone quiet. They never really got to the bottom of that, did they?”

“Clearly not…” sighed Kellen, taking his coat off and sitting back down at his desk. “I blame the Russians.”

“Well, at least you’re not trying to fly somewhere…” shrugged Sandra. “That would be a total nightmare.”

“I know, right?” agreed Kellen. “My friends Tim and Mikael got caught up in the chaos of Gatwick. Horrendous. I guess this is going to push Anna Soubry off the front page.”

“I don’t get the logic of calling Anna Soubry a Nazi…” pondered Sandra. “These are far-right, pro-Brexit protestors and they’re shouting Nazi at Anna Soubry because she’s against Brexit. Is that right?”

“I don’t think logic really comes into it…” shrugged Kellen. “Maybe they’re trying to paint her as being pro-German or something.”

“Who is paying these people to stand outside Westminster all day shouting at people?” asked Sandra. “Someone has to be. No one who has that much time on their hands cares that much about Brexit.”

“I blame the Russians…” decided Kellen. “Are you going to stick around and help me get a Heathrow story up?”

“Can’t…” replied Sandra. “Got a date.”

“Not flower-market-guy again?” asked Kellen. “I thought you’d said you’d gone off him?”

“He’s very persistent…” smiled Sandra. “Plus, he’s offered to buy me dinner. Given that I’m super-broke after Christmas, it was an offer too good to refuse.”

“How romantic…” said Kellen, rolling his eyes. “You realise that if he’s buying you dinner that he’s going to expect you to put out?”

“That’s a trade that I’m quite happy to make…” nodded Sandra. “If a guy buys me a steak and a glass of wine, then he can pretty much do whatever he wants to me.”

“You’re such a good role model for young women…” sighed Kellen. “Alright, go. I’ll sort this out. I was only going to go to they gym anyway.”

“Bullshit…” coughed Sandra, pretending to sneeze.

“Hey! I’m eight days into Dry January!” protested Kellen. “This year, I’m all about looking after my physical and mental health. That means no booze, no junk food, getting lots of sleep, and keeping away from bad influences such as you!”

“Calm down, Brenda!” laughed Sandra. “There’s no need to be such a Nazi about it!”