My mouth fell open in incredulity.“Ah, Maria. Are you trying to tell me you’ve taken up the sport of fly-catching with your mouth?”Ros reached over and lifted my chin.“And an assistant too. So that you don’t scare the little flies away. How wonderful; I didn’t realise it was a team sport. Interesting. Tell me, what do they taste like? I can’t imagine a fly filling any hole in your stomach. How many have you caught?”“That’s disgusting.” Ros screwed her face up.“My thoughts exactly.

Sometimes the fluffy bunny of incredulity zooms round the bend so rapidly that the greyhound of language is left, agog, in the starting cage.

If you can't show it, you don't know it.