“Sabrina the Sabre-Toothed Tiger Tamer?” said Kennedy. She looked closely at the picture. “Those are very fake fangs.”
“Any clowns? I like clowns,” said Laurie, starting to thread some new rainbow laces into his baseball boots.
“Yes,” said Nabster. “The Bronto Brothers. It says here they’re just like a couple of brontosauruses: slow moving and a bit stupid.”
“These names are so awful,” said Laurie. He lay back on the sofa again. “I need a rest.”
“Wait till you hear what the ringmaster and circus manager is called,” said Kennedy, “Tyrone O’Saurus.” A picture came up on the screen of a large man in a bright checked jacket.
Laurie groaned and pulled the sleeping bag over his head to avoid any more painful dinosaur puns.
“According to this report, the circus being in Edinburgh is big news for the museum. They might not have dinosaurs, but they have brought Moth with them,” said Nabster.
“A moth? How much excitement can that bring? A moth is not exactly a crowd-puller,” said Laurie’s muffled voice from inside the sleeping bag.