Nell: You need to talk to David.
Me: What’s he done now?
Nell: He’s in my bed.
Me: Oh dear.
Nell: When I asked him politely to move he stuck his tongue out at me.
Me: Maybe he was playing Cheeky Animals?
Nell: And when I asked him again he closed his eyes and pretended to sleep.
Me: Maybe he’s tired?
Nell: This bad behaviour all started when the spaghetti bolognese stopped.
Me: Maybe he’s suffering spaghetti bolognese withdrawal symptoms?
Nell: Maybe you could stop making excuses for him?
Me: The trouble is we’re missing two beds because they’re at the dry cleaners.
Nell: David can sit on the sofa, or your chair. He knows I can’t get up there anymore.
Me: You’re absolutely right. I’m going to talk to him and ask him to apologise.
Nell: Good.
Me: I’m also going to ask Herr Hoffmann if we can have spaghetti bolognese for dinner. I can’t have Davey suffering like this.
Nell: David’s not suffering. He’s just being naughty.
Me: It isn’t like him. He’s normally such a good boy.
Nell: Not anymore.
Me: Should I try talking to him in Italian?
Nell: You don’t speak Italian.
Me: I did the day before yesterday.
Nell: Harriet’s not herself.
Me: She’s a spy. It’s part of the job.
Nell: No, she’s out of sorts.
Me: You’ve been a bit grumpy too, recently.
Nell: I have not.
Me: You have, Nell.
Nell: Don’t complain. My grumpiness has made me an internet sensation.
Me: Let’s see if a nice bowl of spaghetti bolognese this evening lifts the mood.
Nell: And if it doesn’t?
Me: Then it’s not the lack of spaghetti bolognese making you all like this.
Nell: It could still be the lack of Stanley Smoochy’s bolognese.
Me: Yes. You’re right. Sorry.
