Me: Why is Dave outside staring at the sky?
Nell: Something absolutely disgraceful has happened.
Me: He’s standing on his lounger.
Nell: Of course he’s standing on his lounger. He’s not going to let them do it again.
Me: Do what?
Nell: I can hardly bring myself to tell you.
Me: Oh my goodness. What’s happened?
Nell: Somebody has soiled David’s lounger.
Me: Oh dear.
Nell: And when I say ‘somebody’ I am referring to creatures of the feathered variety.
Me: Malcolm would never do such a thing.
Nell: Of course he wouldn’t. The mere suggestion.
Me: It wouldn’t have been an owl.
Nell: How dare you suggest a member of the Royal Owl Force would stoop so low?
Me: I wasn’t. I suppose it might be Walter Pigeon.
Nell: Walter is a possible suspect but I believe even he would draw the line at that.
Me: Yes, he much prefers playing Cowardy Custard.
Nell: Exactly. There is only one dastardly gang that would do such a thing. A gang with no morals. A gang full of rascals and hooligans and absolute reprobates.
Me: Are we talking about the Beefies here?
Nell: Of course we are. Wretched creatures. It has all the hallmarks of a Beefy attack.
Me: My poor darling Big Brave Beautiful Boy. He loves resting on his lounger.
Nell: Yes, he does and the Beefies know it.
Me: Fortunately it’s nothing that a bit of soap and water won’t fix.
Nell: You say that, but how can David feel safe on it again?
Me: He might have to start wearing a hat.
Nell: It’s a sad state of affairs when an animal can’t even lounge outside its own home.
Me: Yes. Truly fowl behaviour. See what I did there?
Nell: I shall ignore that.
Me: Yes. Sorry.