Me: Dave just whispered a secret in your ear, didn’t he?
Nell: I don’t know what you’re talking about.
Me: You were hiding behind my footstool and Dave came over and told you something that made you close your eyes.
Nell: You need to stop making something out of nothing.
Me: What did he tell you?
Nell: It’s just gossip.
Me: I want to know.
Nell: You won’t like it.
Me: Tell me.
Nell: Word on the street is Lionel is entering the competition.
Me: What competition?
Nell: The one in the Daily Growl.
Me: Lionel King wants to be Our Devon Darling?
Nell: It’s probably nonsense.
Me: Why on earth would that wretched lion think anyone would want to vote for him?
Nell: He’s a better option than Stephen Seagull.
Me: Stephen Seagull’s entering, too?
Nell: Yes.
Me: Head of the evil gang the Beefies?
Nell: I know who he is.
Me: This cannot be true.
Nell: That’s what I said, but it seems it is. The Cat is not going to like this at all.
Me: Nobody is. Thank goodness you and Dave are the judges.
Nell: We’re not the only judges.
Me: Aren’t you?
Nell: Of course not. The Daily Growl cannot be seen to have a Labrador bias.
Me: I suppose not. Who are the others?
Nell: I have no idea, but we should know soon.
Me: Knitwear Wolf would be the perfect judge.
Nell: I agree.
Me: So would Owl Pacino.
Nell: I don’t think the Royal Owl Force would agree to it.
Me: I wouldn’t mind being a judge.
Nell: Don’t be ridiculous.
Me: I would be fair and unbiased as long as Harriet wins.
Nell: They can’t have three Martins on the judging panel. Two is already excessive.
Me: Yes. You’re right. Sorry.
