'So Uncle Tuppy. Five years ago you set off in the coracle to free a boatload of lactating ewes held captive on a prison ship (please see my five e-book tales on Amazon, if you want to know more). Now, you're wolfing down your third bacon sandwich of the day, and wiping grease off your chin. Isn't there some kind of APPALLING CONTRADICTION there? In short, aren't you a hypocrite?'
'Well, I - '
'Let me complete my train of thought before you start with the weasel-worded reply. You're not only a hypocrite - you're a PSYCHOPATH,' Tuppence continued, folding his arms. 'You're devoid of compassion and moral integrity. You've a black hole instead of a conscience.'
'That's a nice thing to say to someone who bought you Thomas the Tank Engine pyjamas for your birthday. And a Smartie pencil case.'
'You're not even attempting to defend yourself. You're resorting to feeble sarcasm and personal attacks.'
'Isn't that always the best way?'
'It's lazy. Where are your facts? Your counter-arguments?'
'I have none. I admit everything. I saved the ewes because I could. I eat bacon because I can. They sell it shrink-wrapped for one ninety-nine a packet off the back of the grocer's van. It would be rude to say no. I'm human, therefore I'm fallible - what can I say?'
'You've said plenty. And you aren't human - as well you know. You're a sheep. You're supposed to be a herbivore, yet you eat dead pigs. What's wrong with you?'
'I don't know. I'm weak. I know that what I'm doing is wrong. I don't think of bacon and sausages as being real. They're like biscuits or crisps...'
'Oh shut up. I wanted a proper argument with dialectics and everything. But all you can do is waffle about crisps. No wonder I'm delinquent.'
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