Me: Nothing beats a sunny Sunday sandy dog face.
Nell: I’m impressed you were able to say that this early in the morning.
Me: So am I. You are such a beautiful dog, Nell.
Nell: You are very kind.
Me: Even though you were actually concentrating on my fish finger sandwich.
Nell: Someone had to. There were a couple of enormous Beefies just waiting to steal it.
Me: How did those seagulls become Beefies?
Nell: They joined the Plymouth gang. Stephen Seagull only recruits the biggest bullies and baddies so they are a thoroughly nasty bunch.
Me: Timothy is terrified of them.
Nell: With good reason. They particularly dislike turkeys.
Me: That’s a bit unfair.
Nell: They don’t understand the meaning of fair. They aren’t keen on flamingos either. Do you know they threw a macaron at Malcolm?
Me: No?
Nell: Fortunately David caught it and ate it. He said it was definitely one of Malcolm’s he could tell by the texture and flavour.
Me: Malcolm does make a good macaron.
Nell: That’s not the point. We need to put a stop to this behaviour. Timothy is traumatised enough without risking his life every time he goes out.
Me: I agree.
Nell: Time for a family meeting. Could you make sure The Cat is invited and ask it to bring its gun?
Me: I can’t condone violence, Nell. No firearms.
Nell: It’s a staple gun. This isn’t High Noon you know. We aren’t about to have a showdown at the High Chaparral.
Me: Yes. Sorry.
