Keep yer her-on, love

"I say, I say, you there....yes, you. The one with the gormless expression and the expensive waterproof boots that aren't."

"Blimey, news travels fast. I'm scared to look at my feet in case they've gone like papier mache...."

"Whatever...anyway I'm bewildered. The Mrs has sent me out to get a nice bit of fish for our tea, but this place has morphed into Iceland!"

"Iceland? I think February in Iceland is a lot colder than Scotland. And much windier, I believe."

"You'd get wind too if you ate fermented shark and rams' testicles...but I don't mean the country. I mean the shop."

"Eh? How?"

"Well, I used to come down here, pick up a nice wriggly piece of stickleback, maybe a side of crustacea....but look what's happened to the place!Everything's deep frozen; there's nothing fresh to be had, apart from that pair of ducks, and frankly, I was sent for fish, not poultry."

"The fish aren't frozen. It's the water that's iced over."

"Goodness me, you're almost David Attenborough. So how are we going to break through?"

"We? We? There's nothing you can say that will make me get on the ice with you."

"No? How about 'I have a long, lethal beak, like a rapier. I sharpen it daily on a cuttlefish and so far, I've stabbed three ex-wives by accident, trying to give them a wee peck on the cheek. Number four won't let me near her since I went to bestow a friendly pat on the bottom and nearly turned her into a heron kebab!'.
Now, do you see my point?"

"Yes, and I really don't want to feel it. Where would you like me to begin......."