“How about: Dear Ed, fuck off?” said Iona. Lulu growled. “A bit blunt, maybe?” said Emmie. “You’re right, as always, sweet pea,” said Iona. “No need to sink to his level. Remember what dear Michelle Obama says: When they go low, we go high! I’ll soften it a little.” She paused and typed away with two index fingers, slightly hampered by her long, scarlet-painted nails. “Here you go. Better?” Iona passed the iPad to Emmie, who read the response Iona had already sent. Dear Ed, Fuck off. Best wishes, Iona x
