I’m not interested in sheep

Me: What a perfect early evening’s walk on the beach.

Nell: Yes, there’s nothing better after a long day.

Me: It was a bit of a long day, wasn’t it?

Nell: I certainly don’t want to spend another evening being shouted at by an irate seagull with a wasp on its shoulder.

Me: Yes, it was a bit much.

Nell: It was more than a bit much. Who does Stephen Seagull think he is?

Me: Well, he’s the head of a powerful gang of seagulls called the Beefies.

Nell: That’s not what I meant.

Me: Oh.

Nell: And that whiny little wasp Weston.

Me: Odd name for a wasp.

Nell: Hateful thing.

Me: I agree.

Nell: What on earth have we got to do with bald headed sheep?

Me: I think it’s more of a whole body hair loss.

Nell: I had no idea the Beefies even kept sheep.

Me: Neither did I.

Nell: I’m not interested in sheep.

Me: Jim is.

Nell: He’s a Farm Dog. It’s his job. I’m a pedigree Labrador.

Me: Did you notice Harriet turned a little pale?

Nell: Harriet can’t turn pale. She’s a rich chocolate brown.

Me: No. She looked worried.

Nell: We all look worried. We were trying to eat our fish pie.

Me: Yes, it was an awfully inconvenient time.

Nell: Poppy and I were looking forward to watching Celebrity Masterchef.

Me: Yes, me too.

Nell: David was so worried he ate Susan’s pie by mistake.

Me: It was fine. Malcolm shared his with her. They aren’t big eaters.

Nell: Unlike David. That seagull and his horrid little friend had better not disturb me this evening.

Me: Are you watching the rugby?

Nell: No, it’s Strictly Come Dancing. The rugby is on in the mornings. Do keep up.

Me: Yes. Sorry.

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