I was interviewed on camera for a BBC thing today, and it was filmed on an outdoor bit near my flat. As we filmed the interview we had to stop because a small dog was yapping. We looked up to see its owner, a really unpleasant old woman who’s previously yelled at my kids for playing quietly, beaming at us. She was clearly delighted to have disrupted what we’re doing.

We resumed filming.

Things escalated.

She grabbed the squeakiest dog toy she could find and squeaked it like she’d never squeaked it before.

SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK! It went. SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK!

“So, Carrie, can you explain what –” SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK!

“Well, Katie,” I replied. “The thing is –” SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK!

Despite her best efforts we still got the piece done. And now I can add “heckled by a rubber chicken” to my list of dubious career achievements.