This morning I left Ethel Windmark’s house at 100 Woodleaf Court, Leafy Gully and set out for a life of crime in the forest that grows thick and dark in the gully. I am a strong, energetic, angry sheep and my name is not Vivian, even if old Ethel tells her friends that it is, and I am never going to forgive her for dyeing my fleecy wool a horrible bright pink. No sooner had I reached the first row of giant eucalypts when I saw a large spotted cat who mistook me for food. We became a great crime team, making midnight raids on the local residents, rattling their bins, stealing sausages and growling (and bleating) all night long. A life of crime has worked out perfectly for me.
The Tutor’s answer to the duelling story (see Stealing Lollies)
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