Birds of a feather

Me: Wasn’t it beautiful down at the beach yesterday?

Nell: It was lovely. Just what we all needed in these troubled times.

Me: Is Poppy still worried about the new French bakery?

Nell: Yes. Apparently the Beefies are thinking of adding fish baguettes to their takeaway menu.

Me: Oh dear. I suppose birds of a feather stick together.

Nell: They are not of a feather, though, are they? The Beefies are Devon seagulls and the Oiseau Noir is run by French rooks.

Me: But they are all birds.

Nell: Just because I am a dog does not mean I will be dancing with chihuahuas, singing with Welsh corgis, or playing ping pong with the pugs.

Me: They are ever so good at it, though, aren’t they?

Nell: Yes. Give a pug a ping pong paddle and it’s happy.

Me: I think we should go there.

Nell: I’ve told you I’m not playing. I prefer real tennis.

Me: I mean to the Oiseau Noir.

Nell: So do I, but Charlie and Sally insist we keep our distance.

Me: Where is Harriet, by the way? I haven’t seen her today.

Nell: David said she went out first thing this morning. Apparently she had an errand to run. I’ll be glad when she is back.

Me: Don’t worry. I can see her now coming through the gate. She is carrying something long and thin.

Nell: Not a baguette?

Me: Yes. Sorry.

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