"I beg your pardon?

"I said it’s nice up here."

"Yes, well, I suppose it is rather."

"Never been up here before."

"Oh, are you new?"

"Nah, I’m usually on the bottom shelves … this is the first time I’ve been up here."

"So, what are you? If you don’t mind me asking."

"Not at all, guv. I’m ‘erbal remedies, I am."

"Erbal Remedies … Erbal Remedies … oh, you mean HERBAL Remedies!"

"That’s what I said, cloth ears! ‘erbal Remedies."

"Well, you obviously shouldn’t be up here. That stupid girl has misfiled you."

"Yeah … and she’s put me back in the wrong place as well."

"Yeeesss. Well, Mr Remedies …"

"Call me ‘erbal."

"Yes, well … um… Herbal …"

"Who are you, then?"

"I am Demonic Necronomicon."

"Bloody hell! That’s grand. I’ll call you Nic for short."

"Nic?!"

"Yup. So, Nic, whaddya think of his nibs?"

"His nibs?"

"Yeah. You know, his nibs … the guvnor … bossman … him over there."

"Oh, you mean Mr Giles."

"Mr Giles? Oooohhhh, aren’t we proper?"

"Manners cost nothing. Then I suppose it’s a question of upbringing. I have been with the Giles family since I was first bound in 1904 ..."

"1904? Bloody hell, Grandad, you’re getting on a bit!"

"Yes, but I certainly don’t look my age, do I? The Giles family have always looked after me … treated me properly, with respect. I’ve been handed down from Father to Son for generations."

"So, would you say you knew Mr Giles well?"

"Oh, yes. I’ve known him since he was a boy. Always fascinated by books was young Mr Giles."

"Then you could settle an argument."

"Oh?"

"You see, my mates and I on the bottom shelves have been arguing about something and if you know Mr Giles as well as you say then you’d be able to settle things once and for all."

"Well, if I can help …"

"Okay, here goes: in your ‘educated’ opinion, will his nibs there ever get around to shagging his Slayer?"

"Oh, I say, you really are uncouth, aren’t you?"

"Uncouth … uncouth?! Listen, you stuck-up ponce, I can be as couth as the next book, I can! And you haven’t answered my question."

"Yes … um … well …"

"You been taking stuttering lessons from the Guvnor, have you? Simple enough question, surely."

"Well, it is a well-known fact that Watchers and Slayers have … become intimate on occasions."

"Yeah? Well, you’d better hope that his nibs gets his arse in gear pretty bloody quick, hadn’t you?"

"Gets his …? I’m sorry I really don’t follow you."

"He ain’t getting any younger, is he? I don’t fancy your chances of being ‘handed down from Father to Son’ if he ain’t getting his leg over."

"Oh really. You could at least rephrase that. A bit of dignity and respect wouldn’t go amiss."

"You’re just trying to change the subject."

"I am not!"

"Okay, in that case, why hasn’t he made a move on ‘er yet? And none of that ‘he doesn’t think of her like that’ either. Look at ‘im! He practically dribbles every time she bends over like that … mind you, I can see why … just look at that."

"Really? It appears that you’re the one who’s ‘practically dribbling’."

"Well, gotta make the most of it, ain’tcha? Don’t normally get a view like this. Cor, blimey, dunno how you stand it … looking at that all day."

"One has standards."

"Standards, is it? Or do you swing the other way? Prefer it when his nibs bends over, eh? Like the feeling of his hands against your leather?"

"I say, you really are…"

"Now, now, guv. Don’t get all uptight … I’m just pulling your ribbon."

"My … inclinations are nothing to do with you."

"Quite right … and Mr Giles does have very nice hands."

"Look … to answer your question, Mr Giles is a gentleman. He wouldn’t dream of taking advantage of her."

"A gentleman? A gentleman? A bloody idiot, more like."

"Mr Giles has a great deal of respect for the young lady. He would court her properly, romance her."

"Then why hasn’t he done it? It’s obvious that he fancies her … and she ain’t exactly backward at showing her feelings for him either."

"I must confess that is a question I have pondered for some significant length of time."

"You what?"

"I’ve wondered about that myself."

"And?"

"Mr Giles has a quite shy nature … and that, combined with his obvious concerns about their age difference, has made him … reticent about broaching the subject with her."

"Reticent? That’s a good word … I like that."

"Thank you. It does rather sum things up, doesn’t it?"

"Shame though. He ain’t a bad boss … down below, we don’t like seeing him lonely."

"None of us do … but there’s nothing we can do about it."

"Ahhh, that’s where you’re wrong!"

"Oh? What do you mean?"

"Well, we’ve got a plan, see."

"A plan? Well, I’m not going to hold my breath in anticipation."

"Oi, no need to get sarky, mate. You see, the plan is to wait until they’re both sitting at the table researching."

"Yes?"

"And then one of us will throw himself off the table and onto the floor."

"Yeesss?"

"So, whichever one picks us up will get a right eyeful of the other. We keep that up for a while and they'll be all over each other in a couple of shakes."

"Mr Giles is far too noble, too honourable to succumb to such a scheme."

"Maybe he is. But she ain’t!"

"Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear."

"What’s the matter now? You got a problem with that plan? Don’t see you coming up with anything!"

"SSShhhh, keep your voice down … Mr Giles is coming over."

"I don’t bloody care. You’re a stuck-up Pillock! A right bloody snob. Think you’re better than I am because you’re bound in leather and I’m just a paperback …"

"Oh, glory be. I knew he’d spot it. Well, Mr Remedies, it’s been very … interesting talking to you."

"What do you mean? Oohhh, here we go … remember the plan, Nic!"

"Thank heavens he’s gone. Talk about common. Oh dear, oh dear, did you see the state of his pages? I tell you they were positively yellow! And his …. Ohhh, wait a minute … looks like Mr Giles has need of me … now, when would be the best time to throw myself off the table?"