Mrs Codswallop took her broccoli for a walk most days, including unholy days such as this one itself.
At the Park she got talking to Jimbette McPhee, who was in a foul mood because her little carrots had weed all over the entrance hall carpet that morning. Which had been most unfortunate.
"Oh I know, I know," replied Mrs Codswallop, sensing an opportunity to score points against lah-di-dah Jimbette, "but this little one here," pointing to the cute little broccoli panting lunglessly on the end of a fluoro-pink leash, "I'm so proud of her. Every morning, without fail, she does her little doings in the corner of the kitchen by the fridge. And she's only five weeks old: almost a newborn in people years."