“Darling, we have to go to this do, at which there will be a bank of photographers and a red carpet, and it’s increasingly obvious that you’ve knocked me up with your it’s-probably-got-cheekbones penis, because of the fact I now have a noticeable bump coming out of the front of me, and I’m really quite slim otherwise.”
“Yes, yes I see your point.”
“So, I was thinking.”
“I can simply wear a garish drop-waist dress and carry a frumpy clutch bag, which I will paste to my mid-section at all times. I am confident that this is enough, given the current media glare we find ourselves in since our sudden engagement and persistent rumours that your angular member went inside my willing vagina to create a Cumberbaby.”
“Sounds flawless. Let’s do it.”
WHAT COULD POSSIBLY GO WRONG?
Oh, just this. YOU HAVE TO KEEP IT THERE AT ALL TIMES SOPHIE. And Benedict, you have to not gaze adoringly at the life growing inside your future wife’s belly.
God you two. Sheesh.