Fatty
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"Woy or calling?" asked Oliver staring up at the actress, who was over a foot higher than him.

"Lindsay Jones," she said, holding her pose, "and I'll not do it." She looked around, but her agent had cleared off. There was no representation of any sort. "I was happy to wear the costume," said Lindsay Jones to Oliver, "and I was happy for that actor to be all over me; but I'll not do this.

"I'll do it," said the naked actor stepping up to the table where the actress Lindsay Jones had been bent over in the foliage. "You can stick it on my contract."

Oliver looked at the actress for a second answer. His eyes barely reached the tabletop but he stared between the actresses legs, pronging the floor with his stick, as if to instruct her back into action.

"I'm quite happy to work the pig," said the actor in a professional manner; and he started to stiffened himself up with a silk furcula. Oliver told him to shut it and closed his stare upon the girl.

"Woy you spread your hands and ramify this beast now," he demanded and he banged his stick upon the table leg. "Woy's with jobs like we've seen it now," he said, "and you'll bloody splay and take one."

"This is serious," whispered the microphone man.

"How on earth shall this be received?" answered a camera-woman.

Oliver banged his stick harder on the table, and this helped the actor with his furcula.

"I'm ready to go," said the actor but Oliver ignored him.

The actor was professionally stiff and ready to go, but the girl still had her legs shut with her hands. The pig seemed unconcerned.


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Intangible