“So ‘e just got it for me.”

“Really? He just bloody well got it for ya?”

“Yeah, right. I’d been telling ‘im I wanted one for a bit, droppin hints and stuff.”

“Like – just … got it for ya?”

“Yeah. How many times I ‘afta tell ya. He dinnit say anyfing, just got it for me.”

“Wow. I wish my fella was like that. I bin droppin ‘ints for weeks about that silver locket at Hampsteads – he jus’ always tells me we ain’t got the dosh to spare.”

“Yeah. Pretty nice innit? I dinnit even have to drop many hints. Just half-inched ‘is wallet and went and got it.”

“Nicked ‘is wallet? I thought you jus’ said he got it for ya?”

“Yeah, that what I said? I guess he did right? Maybe he dinnit know ‘e was, but ‘e did. And ‘sides, he’ll like it right?”

“Sure he’ll like it. I mean, what kind of fella wouldn’t want ‘is lady wearin somfing like that?”

“They spelled Chris’mas right dinnit they?”

“Yep. Good tattooers those lads. But I thought ‘is name was Curt, not Burt?”