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4pm
Having not eaten all day I decided to obtain for myself a
small mid-afternoon meal. Knowing that the Elk and Bush didn't have a
stellar reputation for their cooking (boasting only two stars from the
British Guild of Microwave Users) I decided to stick to bags of pork
flavoured scrapings. I waited for the obnoxious manager to visit the
lavatory before approaching the young, blonde lady behind the bar.
"Woman" I began, "I would like a bag of pork flavoured scrapings please."
"Twenty five pence" she replied, slapping the bag on the counter with such
force that it popped open and showered the bar with savouries. She looked
down brushed them back into my bag (along with various ashes and dirt) and
tried to re-seal the bag with her fingertips.
"On second thoughts I'll have two bags" I lied, deciding to have the nicer
looking bag for myself and give the tainted one to Ian Devine in lieu of
my debt.
"Forty nine pence" she replied, being a little more delicate this time but
still eliciting a crunch from within the foil bag. I was pleased at having
stumbled across an unadvertised special offer and took my penny change
with suppressed glee. It boded well for my forthcoming adventure. I got
back to my table, presented Ian Devine with his gift and sat down to munch
on some pork flavoured goodness. He was pathetically grateful and consumed
the entire packet in one colossal mouthful.
“I suspect the pigs responsible for this were brought up near a tobacco
plant” he opined, picking a shard from between his teeth and sucking it
thoughtfully.
Ian Devine and I exchanged light opinions on various subjects as we waited
for the taxi metered carriage to arrive. He was very much in favour of
introducing on the spot birching for sneezing in public without adequate
tissues while I argued that this was unnecessary as a simple compulsory
handkerchief (complete with regular inspections by specially trained
constables) would eliminate the vast majority of sneeze related problems.
We agreed to differ and instead turned our attention to the pair who had
decided to sit next to us. They were a smart pair which made me
immediately wary of them. Smartly dressed men do not visit public houses
during the day unless they are really disreputable people in disguise.
There are literally no circumstances in which this rule does not hold.
"Did you hear about the manager of Bargainsave?" asked the first one. Our
ears pricked at the mention of our favourite store and we inched our table
closer to theirs.
"No" replied his colleague.
"I hear he's just announced his resignation."
"Really?"
"Yes – apparently he staked his reputation on a special offer whereby the
customer got four boxes of nuts for the price of two but it didn't lead to
an increase in sales of nuts. Hence he opted to fall on his sword."
"That's terrible" said his associate. “Bargainsave used to be a haven for
top value nuts but I guess they’ve been usurped by ‘Nuts ‘R’ Cheap’ and
the huge ‘Mega Nuts’ superstore in Shagford.” I looked at Ian Devine with
a 'well well who would've thought it?' look but he merely replied with
cold, hard hatred.
"I could've had four boxes of nuts but you talked me out of it" he hissed
as we inched our table back into its correct position, perpendicular to
the wall bearing photographs of the celebrities who have enjoyed a
beverage in the area.
"I had your best interests at heart - I feared you were being tricked into
spending unnecessary money."
"I am a man of independent means. I could've afforded four boxes of nuts.
I would, naturally, have enjoyed the nuts more if they had been free but
even paid-for nuts are pleasant. And now I have no nuts thanks to you."
"You had several handfuls of savouries from Balsdeep the Balti Badger" I
said weakly.
"It is hardly the same, Dennis Brent, after much consideration I must warn
you that I am sending you to Coventry."
"Ian Devine!" I protested.
"There is nothing more to be said. We will venture to the colonies in
silence. You are persona non grata until further notice."
"All over two boxes of nuts?" I pleaded.
"Four boxes of nuts. I am counting all the parties involved as a single
offence" he clarified. I admired his quality of reasoning but regretted
his conclusion.
"I could dash to Bargainsave and buy you some nuts" I offered.
"You do not have time before Mr Scoffcock arrives in his motor car."
"We could stop at Bargainsave en route."
"I appreciate the intention, Dennis Brent, but it is too late to undo that
which has been done. I expect I will forgive you but to Coventry you must
go."
"TAXI FOR DEVINE AND BRENT" shouted Mr Scoffcock.
"That's our taxi" I said to Ian Devine. He turned his head deliberately
away from me.
"My carriage is here" he said to everyone in the Elk and Bush except me.
We clambered into the taxi which, having been booked in Ian Devine’s name,
and since he wasn’t speaking to me, involved his trunk being stored in the
boot and him occupying the entire back seat while I perched on a fold-down
chair with my luggage balanced unsuitable on my knee. Every time the
carriage went over a bump my trunk leapt up and thumped me in the face
like a small child. But I had done wrong by Ian Devine and I knew I had to
make this supreme sacrifice in order to make amends.
“Driver” called Ian Devine.
“Yes, Guv?” replied the common fellow.
“Would you take a detour down Slapnipple Street?”
“The one with all those ‘orrible speed bumps?” queried the cab driver.
“Yes” said Ian Devine coldly. “That’s the one.”
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