She has a mouse, they have called it Micky, for want of a more original name I'm sure, living in a hole in the garden wall. As we sat about on the patio he made an appearance. He was very cute indeed and sat eating the seed they had provided, very obligingly, while we looked on. Then came another Micky. "Oh!" says Mum. "There's two! I hope they're both boys"
"You're hoping for gay mice?!" I mutter through my chocolate slice
"Of course!" She exclaims, "Else we might get an outbreak!"
"Well I'm sure they will have had babies at least once by now" I gloat "There's probably hundreds in that hole! And what if they get in the garage?" I carry on "I suppose you'll snap their little heads off with a mouse trap if they get in there?"
I suddenly realised I might have gone too far with that statement. We kept watching the two mice, in silence.
I just hope that the poor little things are sensible enough to come out one at a time in the future and then she can go on thinking there's only one Micky, with the occasional visit from his 'chum' over the hedge"
Later on when we were ensconced in front of the news on the TV she announced whole heartedly that she had a solution for all the rioting that's been going on. "I know what they should do to them"
"What's that then Mum?" I replied
"Cut off all their hoods, that would stop them, and stop selling hoodies in the shops too!"
If only David Cameron had asked her earlier...