Chapter Eleven
The Dame, the Petticoat, and a Wheelbarrow
It takes one man to push a wheelbarrow but many can fill it
Charlie felt sorry for Derek. Granted he wasn’t funny, but then who was in the panto? Every joke Charlie wrote, George scored out. Charlie looked up at the pink albatross blocking the morning sun and pulled his laptop onto the bed; he still had some ideas.
For years, Charlie had lived with little inspiration. Francis had criticised it out of him. In fact, inspiration when living with Francis was as easy to get as a suntan in Scotland. Francis drank gin like tea and had a habit of shutting doors and flicking on kettles with an “it’s your fault I’m miserable” slam. Even Picasso would have struggled to create living with her.
He stared at his laptop, added a few flourishe
