Six

Our neighbour, Mr Scott, came round in a filthy mood this morning.

Apparently, he was just settling down on his upstairs loo to read the Financial Times (so he says - I've seen the paper boy launching The Sun at his front door) when a disembodied voice from right outside the window said "Mrs Scott's got a great big bot!"

Mr Scott thought he was having some sort of psychotic episode, until the voice said "give us a kiss big boy" and he realised it was our African Grey, Boris, who likes to wander off occasionally. (He always comes back - he thinks my husband H is the parrot god.)

Anyway, Mr Scott demanded to know why Boris was besmirching his wife's derriere, and from whom he had learned that particular expression.

H claimed that Boris had actually said "Mrs Scott's got a great big yacht" and ushered Mr Scott out before he could protest that they own no seagoing vessels whatsoever!

I could hear him shouting that he's going to sue, but H says you can't sue a parrot and anyway Mrs Scott's backside is so enormous that any sensible jury would exonerate Boris immediately!

'Semper drama' as H said afterwards!