"Her Majesty can give as good as she gets," Indy lets his girlfriend know. "Size doesn't really matter to her, long as there're no feathers or sharp beaks in evidence."

He looks to his room-mate for confirmation.

"Right, Mikey?"

Meanwhile, the pup doesn't quite know what to make of this wriggly worm-thing that's making a very thorough olfactory inspection of him. He sits back on his haunches and tilts his head to one side.

Then decides to take a closer look.

He scrabbles up the side of the plant pot and onto the soil, then half-springs half-blunders through the vegetation, aiming at whatever's beyond.