A brush with litigation

A quiet Sunday afternoon. The weather is dry but chilly and the wind isn't helping. Julie has to go to work in a couple of hours' time, so it's not worth going anywhere.
Sat in the front room, we have the gas fire going. However, since our house isn't what you could call well-insulated, we also have blankets over our legs. In addition to this, we are both drinking tea, in an attempt to warm up from the inside out. It's working, but only just.

I'm bunched up in my armchair, trying but failing to read a Philippa Gregory novel for my book club. If we have to read another novel set in the Tudor period, I'm going to cause serious harm to someone.
Julie, in her armchair, is poring over a sudoku puzzle, but she's getting bored. It doesn't help the chill of the room is getting to her, and she's shifting constantly beneath her blanket. Every now and then, Julie settles down and fills in another number or two on the grid, but then breaks off and stares vacantly out of the window.

There was a CD playing, some Seth Lakeman, but the album finished a while ago and neither of us can be bothered to get up and change or replay the disc. There is a hum coming from the compact disc player, but other than that, there is no sound in the room, apart from the occasion papery rustle from a book.

Into this comparative silence, Julie clears her throat and speaks.

(Dulux, obviously, being the paint manufacturer)

Uh... really? Well, thanks for letting me know...