When we were out this afternoon George decided to adopt big fierce hunty dog mode. Which came a surprise to the pheasant that stalked across our path.
When George returned empty-mouthed I said, 'It's just as well, George. I'm not sure if it's pheasant-hunting season.'
'Yes, you're only allowed to hunt at some times of the year.'
'Correction: you're only allowed to hunt at some times of the year.'
I looked at him. 'What are you talking about?'
'I'm a dog; I can hunt at any time.'
'But I can't.'
'But you weren't hunting.'
'I'm not sure that would stand up in a court of law.'
'Why not? It's perfectly logical.'
Alas, poor George. He has a lot to learn about British law and its logic.