Nell: ‘David St. John Martin come out of that ruined castle right now, you silly animal.’
Me: Stop barking, Nell. You’ll frighten him.
Nell: ‘Just to let you know we have surrounded the whole of the castle and yes it is the Welsh Corgi Choir you can hear singing ‘Bring Him Home’ from Les Miserables even though today is not Sunday.’
Me: That song always makes me cry.
Nell: Well, don’t. We’re drawing quite enough attention to ourselves as it is.
Me: Where did the photographers come from?
Nell: The Daily Growl. Someone tipped them off I presume.
Me: There’s no sign of him yet.
Nell: ‘I have the ridiculous NDA you signed here in my paw and Sara is about to set it on fire.’
Me: I don’t have any matches.
Nell: Rub two sticks together then. Use your initiative.
Me: Couldn’t we just tear it into little pieces?
Nell: Good grief. ‘David, you’re now free to come home. Exit the ruin and bring your duvet with you.’
Me: We can always get it later.
Nell: Whatever. Any sign of him yet?
Me: Yes. I can see him. He’s waving, Nell, and everyone is cheering. Listen to them all.
Nell: Can someone please keep those llamas under control? Cartwheeling down a hill is reckless.
Me: Look at the Welsh Corgi Choir kicking their little legs.
Nell: Where do they think they are? This is Dartmoor, not the Moulin Rouge.
Me: Now Sally is running towards him. Bless her. This is going to be the perfect Easter weekend. Everyone is reunited and my sisters are coming for lunch on Easter Sunday.
Nell: Does Poppy know?
Me: I’ll go and tell her now.
Nell: I’d wait if I were you. She was just bowled over by a llama.
Me: Yes. Sorry.
