Me: What on earth is going on?
Nell: Nothing.
Me: Were you and Harriet attacking Dave?
Nell: What makes you think that?
Me: I saw you pretending nothing was happening as soon as you saw me.
Nell: It was just a bit of Sunday Shenanigans. Nothing more.
Me: I don’t think there should be any kind of Shenanigans on a Sunday.
Nell: We’d better cancel Sunday Songs.
Me: You can’t.
Nell: Then I should let you know that Gladys is performing an interpretive dance with the llamas to the Welsh Corgi Choir’s version of ‘Tiger Feet.’
Me: Why?
Nell: Roary requested it.
Me: He’s a lion.
Nell: His stepfather Beauregard is a tiger.
Me: Will he be singing, too?
Nell: Only in the chorus.
Me: I thought Sunday was a day of rest.
Nell: You’ve done quite enough resting. Where’s your tiger suit?
Me: My what?
Nell: You can’t perform without it.
Me: I don’t want to perform at all.
Nell: At least wear some tiger ears like the rest of us.
Me: I don’t have any.
Nell: Look in The Cat’s dressing up box.
Me: I hope tigers eat roast beef because I’ve been looking forward to my Sunday roast all week.
Nell: Of course they do, but it wouldn’t matter if they didn’t, as we won’t be tigers by then.
Me: Apart from Beauregard.
Nell: Obviously.
Me: Is Herr Hoffmann wearing tiger ears too?
Nell: Don’t be ridiculous.
Me: I thought everyone was joining in.
Nell: You can’t wear tiger ears over a chef’s hat.
Me: No. You’re right.
Nell: But he will be line dancing later.
Me: Seriously?
Nell: We all learned how to line dance at Roary’s birthday party yesterday evening.
Me: But I wasn’t there.
Nell: Well, you’d better catch up quickly.
Me: Yes. Sorry.
