So I had to purchase more lolly sticks; Bertie's going through them like... Well, like me with a packet of Jaffa Cakes, actually. But let's not dwell on that. And my "bright idea" from the last blog entry just wouldn't quite leave me alone. I am weak in the presence of a silly idea.
It turns out that
a. They're not self-adhesive (soon remedied)
b. Some of them have rather luscious eyelashes. Oh. Oh.
Yes, I know Little Victor isn't pink but burgundy (it's just a really awkward colour to photograph, so I'm told), but this just had to happen:
Mesdames et Messieurs! I give you Victoria!
Ooh, la la. Giving us those workbench eyes, you minx...
Either El Presidente will laugh, or he'll kill me. Or he may laugh whilst killing me. Should I survive, I ought to probably seek some sort of treatment. Or else suggestions on what other tools are begging for anthropomorphication; plenty more eyes to go round. And round...