Fake Snow!

Cold Front End Friday. Lizzie & Theresa, are at some remote pretty place in the easterly flatlands even more nowhere than Central Bedfordshire, as they watch the arrival of the morning goods. 

Being former ‘ladies wot lunch’, they are good at chattering about almost nothing, but notice that snow has strangely settled on the hot steam loco. “It’s fake snow, fake snow I say”, they cry to each other. “Now I know why our legs aren’t frozen even though the snow is ankle deep!” 

Then they notice the shiny red van “The Royal Mail don’t have red Austin A35 vans, so it must be fake as well. And while we’re here, I’m sure that vulgar Christmas tree is plastic. We’d never have a fake one a Chequers!”  

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