Number nine totters over to the mass of flesh, a bundle securely tucked under his arm. The bodies are tightly wedged together, with barely an inch of space between them. The eighth figure is hanging out like a tail, head snuggled between two teammates, and arms reaching around to grapple their hairy buttocks.
The two biggest prop up the rest, wrapped tightly against the one who is playing the hooker. Johnny taps his bundle against the nearest shoulder.
He hates it when Mummy and Daddy have their special sleepovers.
“Daddy! Teddy wet my bed again. Can we sleep in here?”