'Happy Easter.'

'Happy Easter, then, Piglet.'
'And to you, Pooh.'
'Ah…a nice quiet few days.'
'Or not.'
'Not?'
'That boy in the red coat and sou'wester is organising some games.'
'What…is he back?'
'Rabbit says.'
'We'll have Social Services swarming all over the place again.'
'I'd say so.'
'So what games has he got in mind?'
'One's called catch as catch can catch can catch can catch.'
'Catch what?'
'A slow-moving full stop, I'd imagine.'
'I'll re-hibernate.'
'With another you have to swallow an Amazon.'
'Good grief…does it mind?'
'It won't know. Apparently five of you get together, become famous and then creep up on it.'
'Famous? Just like that? How?'
'I think you have to take a photo of yourself on one of those little gizmos like Tigger has.'
'Ah, a shellfish.'
'Yes, you take a shellfish and then make sure it goes floral.'
'I don't trust those gizmos. There's that poor lady Kim Dashcardigan.'
'Oh, yes, her.'
'Indeed her. Tries to take a shellfish, her gizmo steals all her clothes.'
'Disgraceful.'
'Look, where does this boy get these games from?'
'Rabbit said he had a book with him. Whoever wrote it put their autograph on the front.'
'Which is?'
'Gnid Blytor.'
'Hmm, Blytor is right. We must find them.'
'Have words.'
'Hide their Letraset.'
'Oh . . . and he wants an egg hunt.'
'He's not heard of hens, then.'
'Must have slipped Gnid's mind.'