The following morning, Harry was preparing the breakfast brew when Basil spotted him admiring himself in his new shades in the mirror surface of the kettle. Undetected, he crouched down behind some large boulders and watched his friend mimick his favourite film star. It was as much as he could do not to laugh out loud.

Harry had slicked his hair back with wood wasp wax and was working on some sort of rock‘n’roll finger snapping routine. He was totally absorbed in his new cool image, when Basil stepped out into the open. “Morning Marlon,” he announced. His sudden and unexpected appearance gave Harry a fright.

Head down, the young Hawthorn turned his attention to the fire and as a means of distraction, began raking the hot embers with a stick.

“What do you mean morning Marlon?” he scoffed, roughing up his freshly waxed hair with his hands, in the hope that Basil hadn’t noticed him posing.

“C’mon,” Basil teased. “I saw you admiring yourself in the kettle. Why you’ve even polished it like a mirror. You sissy!”

Harry blushed and, in a bid to avoid eye contact with Basil, he continued to poke the fire. There was no denying it. He had been well and truly caught parodying his all time favourite screen idol, the late great Marlon Bramble. “Tea up!” he called out, in a final awkward attempt to bury his embarrassment.

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