Ratticus Maximus

(A while ago, my flatmate and I spotted a mouse running through our flat. He seemed to be a solo agent and we eventually caught him. To ease the tension, we gave him a name (Humphrey). About six weeks later, to my astonishment, we spot a large rat sitting outside our living room window. We assume it’s a one-off but we give him a name as well (Marius Arnold). We’ve just been told by our neighbours that their neighbour is harbouring a nest of 8 or so rats and feeding them, and that this probably explains Marius Arnold’s appearance. Note that my flatmate is Chinese while I am Welsh, and also that my flatmate is terrified of rats and mice.)

Me: “I’m just thinking, do we have to name all of the rats in that nest?”

Flatmate: “No… no, I don’t think so. Especially not the babies.”

Me: “Marius Arnold Junior … Arnold Marius…”

Flatmate: “Okay, we should especially not name them after Roman generals. Otherwise we’ll be setting ourselves up for defeat.”

Me: “Good point. Oh, no, wait, I’m Welsh. They didn’t get to Wales.”

Flatmate: “Yes, but we live in England.”

(I think for a second.)

Me: “Good point. Also, they did get to Wales. I’m pretty sure Caerleon’s a Roman fort… and I think they killed or captured Bodicea.”

Flatmate: “Great. Well, they didn’t get to China, I can say that much.”

Me: “Right. You can lead the charge then. I’ll be right behind you.”

(Here’s hoping the Roman rat invasion never happens)