Me: Did you just give me a signal?
Nell: I beg your pardon?
Me: We were chatting about dentists and you suddenly looked to the side in a slightly mad sort of way.
Nell: Good grief.
Me: I know you don’t like talking about teeth and I’m not that keen on dentists either, but why make that strange face?
Nell: Of course I was giving you a signal.
Me: I knew it. There’s a spy in me yet.
Nell: No, there isn’t. Trust me.
Me: Why were you giving me a signal?
Nell: There’s a strange bird looking through the window.
Me: Malcolm’s probably locked himself out again.
Nell: It is not a flamingo.
Me: It’ll be My Penguin filming one of his in depth documentaries. ‘Moving with the Martins’, or something like that.
Nell: It’s not a penguin, although the documentary is actually quite a good idea.
Me: I’m tired of guessing. Why don’t we just open the window and let it in?
Nell: Certainly not. I don’t want that bird in my house.
Me: That’s a bit harsh, Nell, and a little birdist if I may so. Shall I talk to it?
Nell: No. Don’t turn around. Keep talking and act nonchalantly if you can.
Me: I’ll try, if you tell me what’s going on.
Nell: Why are you flicking your hair back and posing with your hand on your hip? This isn’t a photoshoot.
Me: I was trying to look nonchalant.
Nell: Well, stop.
Me: Tell me about the bird then.
Nell: It’s a rook.
Me: Oh dear.
Nell: Exactly.
Me: Do you think it might be our arch enemy Sponge Finger, the evil head of NOIR, the Notorious Organisation of International Rooks?
Nell: I do and his name is Savoiardi, not Sponge Finger.
Me: Yes. Sorry.
