I was so hoping to hear the sound of the hearty slap SquireAldridge should have delivered around the chops of his bird-brained twittering spousal-unit as he raised his voice and stormed out (…and slammed the door in such a convincing manner!)
…the following silence was almost deafening!
Twacee (scoffin’ as she’s troffin’ wiv’ Russ n’ Lily n’ WidderBeth (…and where’s he been for the past several months?)): “Mmmmmmmmmffff! Gronfff! …as it 'appens!¹ scap! scap! chew! …as it 'appens!¹ scap! chew! mmmmmmmmffffffff! slurp! …ooooh, oi lurvs them flowers!”
WidderBeth: (…in her best Dame Edna voice): "…er, please don’t eat the glads, possum!
Edit: (Note to BroadcastEngineer: Please use less of the Roast-Potato filter, we’re having difficulty hearing Twacee’s CountryAnnunciation!)
¹ shades of Sir James Wilson Vincent Savile? Oh dear!