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Current Mood: drunk

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*Brian wanders in. He's got muddy tyre-tracks across his shirt, and a mostly-deflated bike tyre looped around his neck and under one arm. If you look close enough, you might be able to see that someone's chalked 'MISS WALES' on it. Around his waist is a huge Welsh flag, tied like a sarong, and his face is continuing the whole 'mud' theme.

He's a little bit drunk*

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"No tiara?"

*he presses one hand flat on the top of Hat, and pulls Hat up a little way, carefully, around his hand*

Crown.

"Ah."

She looks him over.

"Lovely ensemble. You must have killed the competition."

*he grins widely*

No no no no. Adopted country. Adopted country won, with the rugby and the ooooOOOOH! And the WAHEY! And the oh man drink so much.

*he plucks at the flag around his waist*

This's Rich's...

She looks at the mud-covered flag dress.

"I'm sure he's generously donated it to you at this point."

No no no. Don't want it. 'mEnglish! Whole other country. Big place. Trees. Hedges. Tiiiiiny tiny churches.

None of those things in Wales?

*he looks at her for a moment, frowning*

Um.

*then the grin reappears*

Whole other country. Small place. Trees. Hedges. Tiiiiiiny tiny churches. Also sheep.

She grins.

"Sheep are very important."

Sheep are funny. Sheep are comedy geniuses. Genii? They are, anyway. Ever seen a sheep doing stand up?

"I've never seen a sheep at all. At least not in person."

They're cuter on TV.

*he nods decisively*

They smell. Also, chased Absinthe Joe across a field.

Why would they chase you? What could it do if it caught you?

Headbutt you. Plus, sheep? Totally know capaoiera. Watch 'em sometime, when they don't know any humans are about. It's amazing.

"Ahh, but I know okidoki. They would flee from me in terror."

*nods sagely*

You lie, white man!

I never lie, young one.

Pfft! Everybody lies. Everybody everybody. Even if it's just an itsy bitsy teeny weeny lie it's still yellow and polka-dotted in the stakes of truth and justice and the Welsh way.

...perhaps there are embellishments and omitted truths here and there.

Lying's alright so long as it's not malissssh- melish- mean.

No, never that.

*he pats her on the head*

Then you're all good, short stuff.

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