Me: I’ve been thinking.

Nell: Here we go.

Me: It was beautiful on our walk yesterday, wasn’t it?

Nell: Yes, it was.

Me: Everything seems so precious at the moment, doesn’t it?

Nell: It does.

Me: The trees, the grass, the birds.

Nell: Not all the birds.

Me: Yes, even the Beefies. I quite enjoy hearing them. They remind me of the sea.

Nell: I wish they would stop shouting ‘Chips’.

Me: Chips?

Nell: Yes. It’s extremely tedious.

Me: Why chips?

Nell: They’ve closed all the fish and chip shops, restaurants and cafes. Beefies live from stealing but now all the tourists have been told to stay home to keep us safe.

Me: They must be starving.

Nell: They can catch fish like everyone else. Lazy hooligans.

Me: You don’t catch fish. You had boiled eggs and soldiers for breakfast and Poppy is cooking a Sunday roast.

Nell. I am not a seabird.

Me: I’ve just had an interesting thought.

Nell: Oh dear.

Me: Do you think the Beefies in the US and Canada are shouting ‘Fries’?

Nell: Good grief.

Me: Or ‘Pommes’ in Germany and ‘Frites’ in France?

Nell: The Beefies are an evil seagull gang run by Stephen Seagull. They are not an international organisation.

Me: How do you know? They might be bigger than you think. There might be a whole Beefy network.

Nell: I hope not. The Black Claw is more than enough to deal with, thank you.

Me: Have there been any reports on animals turning bad then?

Nell: Joyce told me there’s been some bickering amongst the Welsh corgi choir but nothing else.

Me: Do you think The Hunter has infiltrated the Welsh corgi choir?

Nell: No. I think the lockdown is making them feel a little agitated. Do calm down.

Me: Yes. Sorry.

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