Conversation with Britney.

Britney is our resident Lauren Bacall in ginger, every pose a languorous expression of royal intelligence. Here for example is this morning’s conversation.

“Hello Britney.”

You’ve taken Dave to the black table. We all know.

“You OK Brit?”

You remain under suspicion comedy man

“What you looking at me like that for?”

think about it

“Oh yes sorry, I’ve taken Dave to the vets to get his teeth done. You’re fine. Bloody vets, they’re like the American healthcare system.”

And

“And what? Do you want some milk?”

If I wanted milk I’d take you to the fridge. No I’m here sitting in front of the cat flap, you work it out.

“What?”

 you locked the cat flap so he couldn’t get out

“Oh sorry I locked the cat flap so he couldn’t get out, here.” (unlocks cat flap)

There you go.

I’m not sure. You’re a bit too close. We know the tricks you know. Betty may be neurotic bless her but she’d worked you lot out years ago; Dreamies out of the blue, slowly bending over to give us a stroke in an ominous manner> Remember the rule, ‘We come to you.’ Always been always will be. Just back away and we can both get on with our day>

“Oh sorry, here.”

Thank you.

(Five minutes later)

“Back in?”

look out the window dumb ass, it’s raining.