Fly­ing Sheep

[A tourist ap­proach­es a shep­herd. The sounds of sheep and the out­doors are heard.]

Tourist. Good af­ter­noon.

Shep­hrd. Eh, ’tis that.

Tourist. You here on hol­i­day?

Shep­hrd. Nope, I live ’ere.

Tourist. Oh, good for you. Uh . . . those are sheep aren’t they?

Shep­hrd. Yeh.

Tourist. Hmm, thought they were. On­ly, what are they do­ing up in the trees?

Shep­hrd. A fair ques­tion and one that in re­cent weeks ’as been much on my mind. It’s my con­sid­ered opin­ion that they’re nestin’.

Tourist. Nest­ing?

Shep­hrd. Aye.

Tourist. Like birds?

Shep­hrd. Ex­act­ly. It’s my be­lief that these sheep are la­borin’ un­der the mis­ap­pre­hen­sion that they’re birds. Ob­serve their be’avior. Take for a start the sheeps’ ten­den­cy to ’op about the field on their ’ind legs. Now wit­ness their attmpts to fly from tree to tree. No­tice that they do not so much fly as . . . plum­met.

<Baaa baaa . . . flap flap flap . . . whoosh . . . thud.>

Tourist. Yes, but why do they think they’re birds?

Shep­hrd. An­oth­er fair ques­tion. One thing is for sure, the sheep is not a crea­ture of the air. They have enor­mous dif­fi­cul­ty in the com­par­a­tive­ly sim­ple act of perchin’.

<Baaa baaa . . . flap flap flap . . . whoosh . . . thud.>
Trou­ble is, sheep are very dim. Once they get an idea in their ’eads, there’s no shiftin’ it.

Tourist. But where did they get the idea?

Shep­hrd. From Harold. He’s that most dan­ger­ous of crea­tures, a clever sheep. ’e’s re­al­ized that a sheep’s life con­sists of standin’ around for a few months and then bein’ eat­en. And that’s a de­press­ing prospect for an am­bi­tious sheep.

Tourist. Well why don’t just re­move Harold?

Shep­hrd. Be­cause of the enor­mous com­mer­cial pos­si­bil­i­ties if ’e suc­ceeds.