Toast Page #3

and a packet of Refreshers, please.

Oh, and a pork pie.

What's the pork pie for?

Who are you?

I'm the new gardener, who are you?

- Where's Josh?

- I don't know. I was just told to come down here

twice a week from now on.

- Well, would you like half a pork

pie? I bought it myself.

- No.

Dad, what have you done to Josh?

I haven't done anything to Josh.

Joshua doesn't work for us anymore.

We have a new gardener, Mr Watford.

- Josh was my friend.

- Joshua is not your friend!

Now, I want you to put Joshua

right out of your mind! Ow!

And I don't want you to ever

mention his name again!

- I want you to take this up to your mother.

- I hate you.

I'm warning you, Nigel...

Now take this up to your mother.

And whatever you do,

don't disturb her.

Thank you.

Dad!

Dad! Dad!

I told you not to disturb her!

Come on.

Let's have a crumpet.

She's not going to be better

for Christmas, is she?

No, son.

Look...

What's going to happen to her?

Is she going to be all right?

Nigel, erm...

Everything's going to be fine.

Nigel?

Mum?

Aren't you supposed to be in bed?

I want you to help me.

What with?

Mince pies.

It's not even Christmas yet.

Doesn't matter.

Now you do it.

- Oh, Mum...

- All right.

It's all right.

Just stick it back down there.

No one will know.

It's going to be so tasty.

That's perfect.

Here we are. Now we cut them out.

- Nigel...

- Mmm-hmm?

- I love you.

- I love you too, Mum.

- Now all we need is the mincemeat.

- I'll get it.

- I can't see it.

- It's in there somewhere, Nigel, I know

it's in there somewhere.

Don't worry. I'll find it.

I don't understand. It must be

in there somewhere.

- It has to be here. I'm sure it's here.

- It's not.

Let me see.

I asked your father specially.

I'm sorry, Nigel.

You said you'd teach me.

Well...

We'll put them in the fridge

and we'll get some tomorrow

from Percy Salt's. But you promised!

You're going to leave me

with him, aren't you?

- It's not fair!

- Nigel...

Come here...

- I hate you!

- Come here, come here.

All right. You're hopeless!

I hope you die!

All right, all right, all right.

Shh.

Shhh.

All right.

- What's that?

- It's a stocking, Nigel.

- But there's still a month to go.

We thought we'd give you

your presents early this year.

As a special treat.

We thought we'd open them

in the morning.

I don't want them in the morning.

It'll spoil Christmas.

Nigel, please!

Your mother asked me specially.

OK. I suppose so.

So, you're not going

to tell me off, then?

No, I'm not going to tell you off.

But you mustn't open them

until Mum is there.

Night-night.

Night-night.

Daddy?

'With Mum gone, things in the culinary department

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