Conspiring to make dentures from a yew tree

Felix tells me he was considering visiting some co-conspirators in the Pacific Ocean. I asked what he was conspiring in. He said it wouldn't be a conspiracy if he told me. If I really wanted to know I would have to become a co-conspirator as well. But that wouldn't work because I'm not in the Pacific.

The yew tree outside my surgery window was helping Cookie with something emotional when I entered this morning. This surgery was built on an ancient burial site and the tree conveys to Cookie everything the deceased knew via its hollow interior. That's what she tells me, anyway.

George was listening to Frank Matcher who is a parliamentary lobbyist and happens to know an awful lot about ancient beauty-enhancing artefacts. As they were discussing the dying days of the cobweb facial bar, Mr Brinderbutt entered.

Mr Brinderbutt wears his dentures much as if they were artefact, ancient or otherwise. This is incidental, however, to his uncommon ability to enter hotel lobbies and then never to leave them. Today, though, he also visited us in the surgery. I asked if he thought his dentures enhanced his beauty. He said he never carries his beauty with him because it made his stay in hotel lobbies unbearable, which rather put an end to the discussion.

Cookie tells me that the yew tree is an artefact because dead people conspired to create it using their own remains. I asked if the people buried beneath were Pacific people. She said that was a ridiculous thing to think because everybody in those days thought fighting was a good thing.

I let Bessy have a long run along the cliffs this lunchtime. I wondered what she might say to Cookie if I buried her (once she's dead) beneath our yew tree. I also wondered if she'd take to being a co-conspirator with a bunch of violent hoodlums. I hope nobody thinks of burying me there.