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"We need to talk about D&AD," Rupert Owl growled.
"What's that, darling?" Tamsin Income asked, slightly distracted. Damn him, couldn't he see she was busy painting her nails?
"The awards last night. Those Motherfuckers and their damned ambient." Owl was working himself into a state.
"What's that, darling?" Now it was Tam's turn to get annoyed. She'd smudged her pinky. Again.
"Their gold. I'm telling you, it's crap. If I put a sign on you that said Fuckwit 2001, would that make you a work of art?"
"What, darling?" Tam was growing impatient. If he didn't let her finish she'd never get a chance to do her toes before lunch.
"Do you even know what I'm talking about?" Owl was almost screaming now.