'Billionairing It'

A/N: My friend (friend!) blackmailed me into this, sorry.

Quote of the day: Life is ultimately the space of time a human takes to realise that it's not dead yet.

'The wind was blowing, and it was snowing.'

Don't you hate it when you accidentally make a rhyme up in your head? It sounds so uncivilised. Maybe if I try again?

'Snowflakes fell onto the ground, coating London's streets with a virgin white blanket. The wind whistled through the bare trees, viciously blasting icy snow at faces, down clothing, into underwear, where they settled and melted.'

Better.

'People stumbled, struggling to retain their balance on the treacherous pavements. From above, it looked as if brightly speckled dots were scurrying around in organised chaos. From the streets, there was nothing remotely organised about it. It was Christmas, yet it was far from season's cheer'

Saffron sighed. It was hopeless, really. She probably had the worst case of writer's block since records started in 1879.

Why 1879? she asked herself. There was only one way to find out. 

Google the hell out of the tricky motha-cker. Oh, sweet Wikipedia, procrastinating writer's solace. Why was she a writer anyway? Writing was boring, and tedious, and badly paid, and she loved it.

'Ugh!' she exclaimed aloud, 'Why couldn't I take a GCSE in billionairing? 

Is that a word?

Urban Dictionary said yes. 'Billionairing it' was a word used to describe 'when a song is played on the radio so much that you hear it again almost twenty minutes after hearing it the first time.' Not quite what she had in mind, but still.

She could totally billionaire it.

Saffron Jane Waters was going to write a song.