A small set of a gate in the country overlooking a field. A real rustic in smock and floppy hat is leaning on the gate. A city gent on holiday appears behind him. Off-screen baa-ing noises throughout.
City Gent: Good afternoon.
Rustic: Afternoon.
City Gent: A lovely day isn't it.
Rustic: Eh, 'tis that.
City Gent: You here on holiday or...?
Rustic: Nope, I live 'ere.
City Gent: Oh, jolly good too. (surveys field; he looks puzzled) I say, those are sheep aren't they?
Rustic: Ar.
City Gent: Yes, yes of course, I thought so...only...er why are they up in the trees?
Rustic: A fair question and one that in recent weeks has been much on my mind. It's my considered opinion that they're nesting.
City Gent: Nesting?
Rustic: Ar. City Gent: Like birds?
Rustic: Ar. Exactly. Birds is the key to the whole problem. It's my belief that these sheep are laborin' under the misapprehension that they're birds. Observe their behavior. Take for a start the sheeps' tendency to 'op about the field on their back legs. (off-screen baa-ing) Now witness their attempts to fly from tree to tree. Notice that they do not so much fly as...plummet. (sound of sheep plummeting) Observe for example that ewe in that oak tree. She is clearly trying to teach her lamb to fly. (baaaaaa...thump) Talk about the blind leading the blind.
City Gent: But why do they think they're birds?
Rustic: Another fair question. One thing is for sure; a sheep is not a creature of the air. They have enormous difficulty in the comparatively simple act of perchin'. (crash) As you see. As for flight, its body is totally unadapted to the problems of aviation. Trouble is, sheep are very dim. Once they get an idea in their heads, there's no shifting it.
City Gent: But where did they get the idea from?
Rustic: From Harold. He's that sheep there over under the elm. He's that most dangerous of animals, a clever sheep. He's the ring-leader. He has realized that a sheep's life consists of standing around for a few months and then being eaten. And that's a depressing prospect for an ambitious sheep. He's patently hit on the idea of escape.
City Gent: Well why don't you just get rid of Harold? Rustic Because of the enormous commercial possibilities should he succeed.
Garde la Foi, mes amis! Nous nous sommes les sauveurs de la République! Maintenant et Toujours!
(Keep the Faith, my friends! We are the saviors of the Republic! Now and Forever!)
LonePalm, le Républicain du verre cassé (The Broken Glass Republican)
“Mesdames et messieurs, on voici le mouton Anglo-Francaise...”
;^)