There is a loud tweeting coming from the inside of Izzy Newman’s house when I arrive. “Don’t mind Nugget,” she says breezily as I enter the kitchen and spy a big cage on the floor. “He’s only here for another week or so” she explains as I gaze down at a three week old chicken pecking at the tiles. “Erm, right.” “Are you okay with snakes?” she asks. “Erm…” I quickly look back down at the floor. “He’s here somewhere, Monty, the python”. A chicken called Nugget, and a python called Monty, that sums up Izzy’s sense of humour right there.