Me: What’s going on with Nigel and Dave? Is it some kind of alpha male thing?
Nell: What are you talking about?
Me: They watch each other all the time and pretend not to.
Nell: Oh that.
Me: Yes, that.
Nell: It’s a boy thing. They quite like each other so they have to pretend they don’t.
Me: I’m not sure they do. I know Davey is a great big softy but this is his territory.
Nell: Please stop calling him Davey. He’s about to be chosen as Best Mayor.
Me: You don’t know that.
Nell: Babycakes Gillespie has him odds-on to win.
Me: Have you been betting on him?
Nell: Haven’t you?
Me: I didn’t even know I could.
Nell: What do you think everyone was doing at Babycakes coffee cart?
Me: Buying coffee?
Nell: Didn’t you notice the pens in their hats?
Me: I thought it was a fashion statement.
Nell: Dear, oh dear.
Me: I did wonder why The Welsh Corgi choir were wearing trilbies.
Nell: Yes, you expect it from a Jack Russell, but not a corgi.
Me: Exactly. So, is that why The Whippets Institute minibus is here today?
Nell: Of course. They’re getting their bets in quickly before the big announcement.
Me: When will it be?
Nell: Soon.
Me: No wonder Dave is a little on edge. I thought it was because Nigel was staying with us.
Nell: No. He and Nige are fine.
Me: Did you just call him ‘Nige’?
Nell: That’s what Dorothy calls him.
Me: Maybe you’ll finally start calling Dave by his real name.
Nell: He’s David to me and always will be.
Me: And he’s my Big Brave Beautiful Boy.
Nell: I’d go and put a bet on now before it closes. He’s going to win.
Me: Yes. Sorry.
