Cornwall. 13th June 2014. 23.50pm – Half time.

Hazel, 94, rubs her weary eyes. She looks at Barbara, 96, eight empty Fosters cans on her lap.

BARBARA: Chile

HAZEL: Yep

BARBARA: Chilly willy

HAZEL: Oh, are you cold?

BARBARA: Chilli con carne

HAZEL: Hungry?

BARBARA: Chilling

HAZEL: I’m going to bed.

Hazel walks up the stairs.

BARBARA: Chillax

HAZEL: Go to hell, Barbara.

Barbara vomits, multiple specks stick to her cork hat.

© Carl Burkitt 2014