And all that stuff about a monogamous commitment to our profession. I mean it's so depressing.
She's gonna say that isn't she. She's a prune with no children and no friends and little obvious social life.
Like me?
What?
Well it is like me. I'm thirty, single, boringly diligent, off-puttingly committed to my work. I am going to be a prune.
Shut up.
It's true. I'm going to wither on the vine.
I think that would make you a raisin wouldn't it?
Raisin or prune it's not exactly what a girl dreams of when she's growing up.
I'm sure you'll be snapped up by some rich and handsome dried fruit seller.
Exactly. The only man I'll ever find is some loner with a fetish for shrivelled produce.
Oh shut up.
I'll end up stiff and cold like some badly wigged mannequin in a scary local museum. Someone will show me as an exhibit. This is Dr Alexander our 92 year old pathologist. Remarkably Dr Alexander is now completely desiccated apart from the tiny muscles which operate her rusty scalpel.
(Harry kisses Nikki)
Now she shuts up.
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