“Sir, you can’t park that ostrich here.”
“And why not, may I ask?”
“Because this zone is reserved for vehicles.”
“And is my wonderful ostrich not a vehicle?”
“Not in this country, it isn’t, sir.”
“Don’t you think that smacks a little of xenophobia?”
“Sorry, I only speak English, sir.  The only smacking here will be the sound of my baton on your little woolly head if you don’t move that damn bird now.”
“Come on Horatius, let’s go.”
The policemn watched the Bushman king and his ostrich leave, and shook his head.  Bloody ignorant foreigners.