Nell: We need to talk about Nigel.
Me: Oh dear.
Nell: You’re not going to believe this.
Me: I’m afraid I might. Is it about Spanish Night?
Nell: Yes, it happened last night.
Me: Was it when he was dancing the flamenco with Manuel and the llamas?
Nell: No.
Me: Manuel’s an awfully good dancer, isn’t he? For an octopus.
Nell: He’s from Barcelona.
Me: Was it when Dave started singing ‘Guantanamera’?
Nell: No.
Me: ‘Blue Spanish Eyes’?
Nell: Stop listing songs.
Me: Kev has blue eyes but he’s from Cornwall not Spain.
Nell: It has nothing to do with blue eyes.
Me: Did he go upstairs and jump on the bed with dirty paws?
Nell: No, but his paws were sticky.
Me: Sticky? It wasn’t something to do with food, was it?
Nell: It has everything to do with food.
Me: I know my sister Charlotte has been making a Christmas cake. He didn’t lick the bowl, did he? Only Christmas cake is definitely not for dogs.
Nell: It wasn’t cake,
Me: Was it Spanish?
Nell: In a way.
Me: Did he eat the Huevos Rancheros?
Nell: We didn’t have Spanish eggs. We had roast chicken and Spanish rice,
Me: Oh yes. I’m guessing it wasn’t the rice?
Nell: You are guessing correctly.
Me: What did he do with the chicken?
Nell: He opened the bin.
Me: Oh dear.
Nell: And took out the aluminium foil which had been covering the chicken during roasting.
Me: That’s naughty.
Nell: And licked every last bit of the juices off the foil.
Me: Thorough.
Nell: And then carried it proudly around the house.
Me: He’s Naughty Nigel again, isn’t he?
Nell: He most certainly is.
Me: He looks ever so sorry about it.
Nell: Only because he was caught.
Me: Yes. Sorry.
