Me: There’s been some extremely focused Looking Out Of The Window this morning.
Nell: I know.
Me: Are we expecting guests?
Nell: We’re waiting for Beefeaters.
Me: This is going to sound silly but I thought you just said ‘Beefeaters’.
Nell: I did.
Me: Are we talking meat lovers here, or the colourfully dressed yeoman guards of the Tower of London?
Nell: The latter, of course.
Me: I wouldn’t say ‘of course’. It’s not as if you expect to find a Beefeater in this part of the world and we do have a lot of non vegetarians.
Nell: Why bring vegetables into this?
Me: Never mind. Are the Beefeaters performing at Sunday Songs?
Nell: Beefeaters don’t sing.
Me: They might do. I know Henry VIII allowed them as much beef as they liked and that would definitely make Dave sing.
Nell: They’re coming to arrest Poppy.
Me: What?
Nell: It was all in the letter.
Me: Why didn’t you tell me before?
Nell: We knew you would become agitated and we needed to put certain measures in place.
Me: Are you saying Poppy is going to be taken to the Tower of London?
Nell: Yes. If she doesn’t relinquish her sword.
Me: She won’t do that.
Nell: She’s going to have to. The Royal Terriers are much fiercer than the Royal Corgis. They mean what they say.
Me: What if we gave the Beefeaters somebody else’s sword?
Nell: We don’t have swords lying around you know and Poppy has to do the handing over.
Me: We could make one out of tin foil and a stick.
Nell: This isn’t Blue Peter.
Me: The Cat must have a spare sword in its Dressing Up Box.
Nell: It doesn’t.
Me: We can’t let them take Poppy.
Nell: We won’t.
Me: Good. Sorry.
