'But what are we going to do?' pleaded Captain Bill.
'Well,' replied Cyril,'the first thing I'm going to do....is have another one of these grass sandwiches.'
'How can you possibly think of food at a time like this?' hissed Captain Bill.
Cyril stared at Captain Bill.
'OK!' conceded Captain Bill,'silly question!'
'Pirate sheep they maybe,' replied Cyril,'but you've got to give them credit, they still make a very fine grass sandwich. I particularly admire the way they've replaced the outer bread layers with yet more grass.'
'So it's just grass then?' said Captain Bill.
'Hmm?' munched Cyril.
'Well,' continued Captain Bill,'if they've replaced the bread with more grass it's just grass...it's not a sandwich at all!'
'Possibly to the untrained eye it might appear that way,' said Cyril,'but at a deeper level it still retains much of it's sandwichness!'
'Oh brilliant!' replied Captain Bill,'we're trapped on a balloon stuffed full of pirate sheep and you want to get philosophical about grass sandwiches!'
Cyril thought for a moment.
'I can think,' he said,'of no better way of passing the time...now, any mustard?'
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