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Book a Beefy

Me: I love your grey chin.

Nell: Stop taking photos of me when I’m asleep.

Me: It makes me want to give you a great big kiss.

Nell: Good grief.

Me: It makes we want to bury myself in your gorgeous Labradoriness.

Nell: There is no such word.

Me: There is now.

Nell: Well, go and bury yourself in David’s gorgeous Labradoriness then because I’m resting.

Me: I will. My Big Brave Beautiful Boy is always up for a cuddle. Unlike you.

Nell: I don’t like people invading my personal space. You know that.

Me: I’m not people, Nell. I’m me.

Nell: Well, I’m completely awake now so I hope you are pleased with yourself.

Me: That’s rather odd. I wonder what they are up to now.

Nell: What are you talking about?

Me: The Beefies. They seem to be filming the Welsh Corgi Choir at Sunday Songs. I thought Our Penguin was in charge of streaming it on YouChewed.

Nell: He is.

Me: But look. They’ve got cameras on their heads.

Nell: The scoundrels. This must be part of their latest venture.

Me: What do you mean?

Nell: Haven’t you seen the adverts?

Me: No. I never really go out anymore. We’re in lockdown.

Nell: They are online. You must have seen them. ‘Disappointed in your Drone? Book a Beefy.’

Me: Book a Beefy?

Nell: Yes. They are breaking the laws of privacy, of course. Filming what they like, where they like, and selling it on.

Me: Does PC Panda know about it?

Nell: Poppy has invited him to Sunday lunch so we can discuss it then.

Me: Roast Beef?

Nell: It’s a stir fry I’m afraid. You know how Armando loves his bamboo shoots. Poppy says there will be a proper roast next Sunday.

Me: I see. Sorry

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