A novel for readers of literary fiction, historical fiction, and political satire. Contains time travel, British humour, philosophy, and a sheep with opinions on grass. Some books are hard to describe. This is one of them. It spans two thousand years, crosses eight civilisations, and arrives at Delphi at night when the tourists have gone home. It contains a government veterinarian, a talking sheep, and the same mistake, made with complete sincerity by everyone who was absolutely certain they would not make it. The afternoon tea will explain. Sheep: Classified is best approached like a proper English afternoon tea. The sandwiches look modest. One untagged sheep. One government veterinarian named, with no apparent irony, Dr Shepherd. One crop circle in Wiltshire with a perfectly reasonable explanation, which is to say, an explanation that explains rather less than it intends to. Then the scones arrive. Two thousand years of them. Elizabethan Warwickshire. Rome. Venice. And elsewhere. A sheep is present throughout. She was present before the record begins, and the record, until now, has been classified. The clotted cream is philosophy. The jam is politics. The milk is the version that survived. The sugar is what we add afterwards to make it easier to swallow. The petit fours are the people you think you recognise. You will. The tea itself, holding everything together, is a sheep who speaks only when necessary, and has been doing so for considerably longer than the record shows. You have already picked up the cup. Milk or sugar? The file is open. You would never know without looking. But you have already looked.