Me: Here’s the thing.
Nell: I don’t like it when you say that.
Me: I know.
Nell: Well, go on then. You’ve obviously got something to say.
Me: I admit that when I first saw Beauregard’s hat I wondered if an extravagantly tasseled sombrero was really the look a tiger should be aiming for.
Nell: Didn’t we all.
Me: But as we started walking to the beach and the path seemed deserted I thought at least it was working.
Nell: Everyone ran away.
Me: Except for the snakes.
Nell: Well, yes. Further down the path things changed a little.
Me: You mean a lot.
Nell: I suppose so.
Me: When you told me Henry and Horst were snake charmers I didn’t realise they were the Sonny and Cher of the snake world.
Nell: They are certainly popular.
Me: I didn’t expect snakes to be lining the path waving their heads in some kind of hypnotic daze.
Nell: It was rather mesmerising.
Me: Or for word to have spread to almost every snake in Devon.
Nell: There were rather a lot of them.
Me: There were hundreds.
Nell: Yes, it reminded me of that snake temple in Bangkok.
Me: You’ve never been to Bangkok.
Nell: No, but you have and you told me about it.
Me: Terrifying place. Snakes everywhere.
Nell: Exactly.
Me: I’m not doing that again, Nell.
Nell: Of course you’re not. One visit to a snake temple is more than enough for anyone.
Me: I meant walk along a snake lined path to the beach with a sombrero wearing tiger and two woodlice celebrities.
Nell: Fair enough. We made the front page of the Daily Growl though. So that’s something to celebrate.
Me: Really?
Nell: Chin up, Poppy’s baked shortbread and Saturday Kitchen is starting.
Me: Yes. Sorry.
