Scene: She gets home from work, and before even taking off her coat, her first job is to feed the cats. To pleading looks on upturned faces and tails snaking round her legs the bowls are filled and lowered to the floor. They sniff at it uncertainly and hesitate. “Nice food” she coaxes encouragingly – “come on boys…”. They walk off, tails in the air.
Translation: This food is freezing – she’s only just taken it out of the fridge. Come on Banjo, the only way this is ever going to improve is if we boycott the food on the days she doesn’t open a new tin. All for one and one for all!
-oOo-
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