I don't think that's a Lion.

Said the Father-in-Law ponderously as if his voice were an iceberg calving from a large ice shelf.

I gave him the stink eye for about the twelve-teenth time that day.

It is a Lion.

I said tersely, trying to pretend that we were friends because we were related by the past issuance of his loins.

No. I think it's a cougar, it doesn't have a mane.

He uttered with a smug finality.

This had been going on all day and I was going demented. We had decided to take the kids to Scotland's only Safari Park which rather conveniently is halfway between the City we live and the City that the Good Lady's father lives.

This meant a meetup was arranged so that he could see his Grandchildren and we could all be jolly together.

Except, Mr Father-in-Law is very opinionated and always thinks he is right and had been wrongly identifying animals all day long and insisting he was correct. All this despite the fact there were information boards before every enclosure telling you exactly what was in there.

Not that it mattered much, a Lion is a fucking Lion and you don't need a sign to tell you.

Female Lions don't have manes. It's a Lion.

He looked at me and gave me a faint smile. The kind of smile you give a baby who has done a shit in the bath.

I shook my head and at a warning glance from the Good Lady held my tongue and we moved on.

To a large enclosure that had two ostriches in it. They were pecking morosely around in the dirt looking as if they thought Scotland was shit and wondering if it ever got warm.

Hey Little Lady! Check out the big bad Ostriches!

I exclaimed to my daughter.

I don't think that's an Ostrich.

Intoned the Father-in-Law almost predictably.

It is.

I said with a stern tone that brooked no further discussion.

No. No. I think... I think it's a Gnu.

I glared at the big bearded loon that I had the good fortune to call my Father-in-Law.

A Gnu?! A Gnu isn't even a bird.

I said, the annoyance in my tone seeping through like the aftertaste of a Huel milkshake.

Yes it is.

Answered the Father-in-Law equally as annoyed sounding as me.

You are thinking of an Emu.

I said flatly, waving a hand around as if some kind of arse-fly was trying to land on my face and make sweet love to my lips.

Ah. Ah, yes. You are right. Ok, then. Yes, it's an Emu.

Except it wasn't an Emu. It was a fucking Ostrich. We were standing beside a sign which said so.

Look at the sign?! It's a fucking Ostrich!

I hissed so as not to be heard by the Little Lady.

Her Father made a face as if I was singing Baby Shark whilst playing with my nipples.

There's no need to swear.

He said piously.

Yes, Daddy-Bear. Cut the swearing out please?

The good lady chipped in.

I gritted my teeth so that the torrent of sweary filth that was backed up in my gullet wouldn't fly out. I tapped the sign beside me, hard.

It's. An. Ostrich.

The Father-in-Law peered short-sightedly at the sign, shook his head and tittered.

The sign could be wrong. I think it is an Emu.

He said with an amused twist to his face as if he were a Badger that had just found a pine cone in the woods covered in poo and rolled it home to its wife.

The Good Lady held her phone out warily at me as if I was a wild animal. There was a picture of an Emu on it she had obviously googled.

They are very similar?

She chirped.

Steam started to bubble and spit from my ears and I clenched my fists as if strangling invisible baby otters.

Daddy? It could be an Emu?

Piped up the Little Lady.

Everyone looked at me expectantly. I looked at the giant Ostrich behind them. Then I smiled back with a brittle brightness.

You know what?

I said with deranged sounding cheer.

I think we are all wrong. I know what it is now!

What, what is it?

They chorused almost as one.

It's a fucking duck. Quack quack.

It was a long and uncomfortable drive home.