Psst … she’s 'ere
Her, wi’ the hat, the big bag and the brolly.
If she thinks for one minute, I’ll be skipping along the rooftops of London and singing about flying kites and stuff, she’s got another think coming.
Ah don’t be a spoilsport; it will be great fun on a Friday evening.
You know I’m scared of heights.
But she will take care of us. She can do magic you know.
Dunno, don’t you think we’re past the babysitting stage?
We can pretend she’s our daft auntie.
A daft auntie’s voice croons from the front hall. ‘Supercalifragilistic …’
- I’m out of here!
Wait for me bruv!