Me: Look at my Big Brave Beautiful Boy. He’s exhausted. Bless him.
Nell: Let him sleep.
Me: He and Rhubarb were amazing. She looked lovely in her tiara. Almost as good as you.
Nell: Tiaras suit us ladies of a certain size.
Me: Knitwear Wolf certainly swept Myfanwy off her feet.
Nell: I wouldn’t say that, but they were excellent.
Me: Lionel King was ever so rude. Roaring at everyone in a most unpleasant way.
Nell: He’s still smarting from the loss of the jewellery box.
Me: At least he’s stocked up on ready meals.
Nell: True.
Me: Poppy is cooking the roast in her ballgown. Maybe she’s finally discovered her feminine side.
Nell: I sincerely doubt it. She’s wearing a leather biker’s jacket over the top with ‘Boss’ sequinned on the back.
Me: Stephen Seagull lost a few feathers again but he held his own this week.
Nell: Waltzing with Poppy requires a certain amount of bravery.
Me: Especially when she’s carrying a sword in her teeth.
Nell: Yes.
Me: Who’s in danger of being in the dance off?
Nell: Manuel had trouble with his tentacles again so he has to be at risk and Jim the Farm Dog seemed a little distracted. I felt his heart wasn’t really in it this week.
Me: I think he might be a little jealous of Harriet and Beauregard.
Nell: Jim should know better. Harriet is not the kind of Labrador to have her head turned by a tiger.
Me: No. Her heart still belongs to Jim.
Nell: Anyway, enough talk of dancing. Let’s just enjoy the pleasures of a Sunday.
Me: Yes. The delicious smell of Poppy’s roast beef with just a hint of Yorkshire pudding.
Nell: I was talking about the sound of the Welsh Corgi Choir.
Me: Yes. Sorry.
