Suddenly, Brian turns into Enid Blyton, author of the Famous Five books. "Would you like to play nude tennis with me?" she asks

"Yes, but aren't you dead?" I ask.

"Haha no no no, only the archaic language and ideas in my books are dead." She replies as she whips off her brown and orange striped jumper and pulls a tennis racket from her thigh-high boots.

"Come on then Blyty," I snarl, poised for action with my tennis racket waving above my head. But before I can serve, fudge demons begin to rain around me.

"It's the gollywogs," cries Enid Blyton her lack of political correctness momentarily stunning me.

The End

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