Not the response I'd hoped for

Her: Thank you for your letter, Clive
Me: Pleasure, Mum, pleasure.
Her: It's nice to see you empathising, Clive.
Me: Are you suggesting I haven't before?
Her: No, of course not. I just meant, publicly, as it were.
Me: Oh, right. So what do you think to a truce?
Her: Well, I was quite taken with the notion. Especially since you didn't ask for food. That must have taken a lot of control.
Me: I can have control over my stomach, when it's appropriate. It just isn't very often.
Her: Was it appropriate tonight to to take up your begging position at the kitchen door approximately 15 seconds after you'd finished your dinner?
Me: Er...
Her: After a special dinner of one of your favourite treats?
Me: Um...
Her: You stink after eating pilchards in tomato sauce, you know that right? Yet I give them to you anyway because you love them. And it was a whole can. A Whole Can.
Me: Ah...
Her: You know I gave that to you because I was so pleased with your olive branch. So how do you think I felt to find you back begging again straight afterwards?
Me: .....
Her: Quite. Nothing to say to that. Why should I give you treats when they obviously don't satisfy you? It's just frustrating for both of us.
Me: Wait a minute...
Her: I think we should both take some time to think about this.
Me: Hang on...

Damnation!