EXT. URBAN GARDEN – DAY
[BIRDS SOFTLY CHIRPING, CRICKETS HUMMING IN THE GRASS, THE DISTANT GROWL OF A LAWN MOWER.]
MAN: Mathilda, my dear, why don’t you wear that fancy blue dress? The one you wore last summer? You know, it’s my favourite. No, no. You’re putting it on all wrong. Backwards in fact. Let me help you with that. Don’t snatch! You’re slobbering. We’re going to have a nice tea party in the garden aren’t we? And we won’t be fraternising with the neighbour’s Saint Bernard ever again. Now, now Mathilda. It’s because you’re different now. You’re not one of them anymore. Let me just help you … No, Mathilda! Down Mathilda! Down! GET DOWN!