Press Call

So today I got an email from the Press Office at World Book Night.

'Are they offering to do your ironing?' says Primrose, who is trying to block my way as I attempt to collect les deux oeufs de la jour.
'No,' says I, 'not that kind of press. The newspaper media kind of press. Please hand over your egg. There is no baby in that egg.'
'I'd quite like babies,' says Primrose.
'She is feeling very broody,' confirms Daisy, who doesn't give two hoots about keeping her eggs and gives off an air of complete surprise every day when one appears.
'I had noticed,' I say.
'She tried hatching an apple core the other day,' says Daisy.
'I was practising,' says Primrose.
'You are not having babies,' I say, very firmly, because secretly I would love to have a go at hatching an egg or two. Not personally, of course. I think there could be a potential weight issue for a start, plus my hormones have almost run out and I just don't have the patience for all that sitting unless I've got a really good book to keep me occupied. Anyway, I digress. Back to the Press Office.

'What did they want?' says Daisy.
'Well,' says I, 'apparently they really liked my application this year.'
'What did you write?' says Primrose.
'Blowed if I can remember,' I confess, as it was all a bit rushed and last minute. 'But whatever I wrote, they liked it and they want to know if I would be willing to a) have it quoted in a press release and b) be interviewed on the radio or TV to promote World Book Night.'
'Wow!' say the hens in unison.
'I know,' I say. 'How exciting is that?'
'Of course, you will get your hair done if you go on the telly, won't you?' says Daisy.
'Why?' says I. 'What's wrong with my hair?'
'Well,' says Daisy , 'it could look a bit, er, browner? Maybe?'
'I am not going to start dying my hair again,' I say, stoutly.
'Right,' says Daisy.
'However,' I say, 'I am planning on stapling a copy of Nearly King Jimbo to my forehead. Publicity opportunity, don't you know.'
'And it is a book,' says Primrose.
'Exactly!' says I.
'What about a new frock?' says Daisy. 'And possibly a large, floppy hat.'
'I am not going to change the way I look,' I say. 'It's my wit, charm and personality they are after, not my image.'
'Are you sure about that?' says Daisy.
'Quite sure,' I say.

'So did you agree to the request?' says Primrose.
'Of course,' I say. 'And I am awaiting a call from their PR people.'
'Can we join in, too?' says Daisy.
'If you like,' I say.
'I'll dig out my best chiffon and diamanté then,' says Daisy.
'I'd rather you didn't,' says I.