In a stew

Times are hard here in Lexica's garden. This bloomin' turnip kept me up all night wanting to play dominoes and poker. I don't know where Doris Budgie got to on Saturday night - she staggered into her cage after midnight, wearing a party hat and blowing raspberries on a party tooter, fell off her perch and slept it all off in a corner of her cage with her feet up in the air.
I'm beginning to wonder if Gorgeous Gary has led me astray here. Whenever I call Bernard "Bernard," he starts saying "Bjorn, Bjorn!"
G. Gary promised me he'd snaffled a world famous goat for extortion purposes.
Still, there's no need to panic just yet.
1. Bernard the Goat is still missing, so it probably is him - perhaps he's got magnesia or something after eating too many underpants.
2. No-one else except Gorgeous G. knows I've got him.
3. There's still no reply to my ransom note, so Derek the Sheep and pals are probably emptying out their piggy banks to pay me my £1000.
(Though the ton of pigeon food might be nice - I'm peckish today.)
4. If it isn't Bernard, maybe someone else will pay the ransom for him. But they'd better hurry up - he's eating me out of nest and home.