Dog Marley

Me: Don’t tell me that’s Gladys.

Nell: Of course it isn’t Gladys. It’s four times her size at least. It’s Dog Marley.

Me: I was worried for a moment.

Nell: He wants to be in the pantomime.

Me: As what? The horse?

Nell: No. The Prince.

Me: Jim the Farm Dog is the Prince.

Nell: Since Harriet became a Rastafarian they haven’t been getting on. He doesn’t like reggae.

Me: I’m not sure Dog Marley is my idea of Prince Charming.

Nell: He certainly isn’t. He looks like a giant mop and I can’t understand a word he says.

Me: That’s a bit harsh, Nell.

Nell: He keeps saying “Wah Gwaan”.

Me: That’s just a friendly greeting. You need to answer with “Mi deh yah” and he will be happy.

Nell: I am doing no such thing.

Me: Jeezum pees. Keep your hair on.

Nell: This is not a laughing matter.

Me: I haven’t seen Gladys, or Dave, this morning.

Nell: No. David and The Cat have taken her to see Doug the hairdresser. She caught her dreadlocks in the zip of my handbag and couldn’t get out.

Me: Oh dear.

Nell: The Cat said she can’t play Buttons with dreadlocks as the risk of entanglement is too great. So the dreadlocks have to go.

Me: Poor Gladys. Hair today, gone tomorrow.

Nell: Not funny.

Me: Sorry.

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