What dog’s that then?

“Karen! Karen! Karen! Karen! Karen! Karen!”

What, Iggy?

“Look at me look at me look at me look at me look at–”

Okay, Iggy, relax. I’m looking.

“See?”

I see. 

“Yeah!”

Yeah.  What am I looking at, exactly?

“I’m under a Union flag blanket!”

Yes, you are.

“I’m cool!”

Okay, you’re cool, I guess.

“Just like The Who!”

Oh, dear. Iggy, The Who are not cool.

“Are too!”

Iggy, listen to me. They went on their first farewell tour when I hit puberty. They’re still farewell-touring and I’m approaching menopause.  I’m not exaggerating.

“Wow–”

Wow indeed, Iggy. They’ve been milking the–

“–you’re old.”

Oh. Great. Thanks. I’m gonna go. You have fun with your blanket.

“I will! I’m cool! I can see for miles and miles and — hmm, well, actually, no, I can’t see much of anything. Uh oh. Karen? Karen? Hello?”