Wilson returned from the village clutching a bottle of ‘Dry Shampoo’ – a fine white powder indistinguishable from Talcum Powder, except by its price – which he proceeded to empty over his head.
Now he is covered not only with soot, ash and smuts, but also with a fine white powder which seems reluctant to come off.
It has proved resistant to brushing, so Nërp is giving him the once-over with the vacuum cleaner, which W says tickles intolerably.
Byron, having showered, is fluffy, fragrant and cuddly – I’m wondering whether Wilson wouldn’t have found it easier to do the same.
Or, indeed, whether he will eventually have to shower to get the Dry Shampoo out…
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