Pickles After he had seen them out of the door, Chopper Morris went back inside the hotel. The others returned to find out what Cretin was going on about. Cretin Oh Marmaduke, you could never guess what has just happened to me. Twaddle It had better be good for I am in a fighting frame of mind at this precise moment in time. Cretin A bird just ploppied on my head and that must be for good luck, what you think Duke? Twaddle I have arisen from a comfortable leather armchair, having been limited to a single G and T and all you can think about is bird-shit. Cretin Sorry Duke! It ' s just that I thought-- Pickles Cecil Cretin’ s face dropped. Twaddle Let me make this quite clear to you, young man, I decide around here what is good luck and what is bad luck. If the bird was aiming at you then that was just bad luck. On the other hand, if the bird was aiming at me and hit you then that was good luck. Cretin So it was good luck after all, Duke, eh? Twaddle No! I would think not. No bird would be foolish enough to try and shit on me. Now! Wipe that silly stuff from your eyelashes before you flick it unto my expensive, Crombie overcoat.
IN THE COSH AND JEMMY CAR PARK
Pickles Marmaduke Twaddle is the proud owner of a Harley Robinson Special. A Harley Robinson Special is a rough copy of a famous American motor bike but with a 50cc engine. A few days after the embarrassment in the Horse and Hounds he was seen, speeding down Half Inch Street on his cherished bike. Sitting on the pillion seat was his slimy crony, Cecil Cretin- minus the bird-shit. They pulled into the Cosh and Jemmy car park. There was a crowd of Cidermen standing around on the forecourt. Olaf Gallowsbird was busy keeping them away from three crates of cider, which were stacked against the wall. Davy Brudder and his Social Security Men stood in a VIP‘ Guard of Honour’ with white walking-sticks forming an impressive arch for the Harley Robinson Special to pass through. The SS Men wore brilliant white plastic belts to distract attention from their crows-feet, grey-shirt uniforms. It has to be admitted: Davy Brudder was streets ahead of Olaf Gallowsbird in the race for Deputy Leader of B. O. G. Cretin was much impressed. He dismounted and took the salute. Twaddle clipped his lug-hole. Twaddle You park the Harley Robinson Special and leave the parade inspection to me. Pickles Marmaduke Twaddle made a great fuss of shaking the hand of Gallowsbird and Brudder. Cecil Cretin, the man who stole milk from the NSPCC held out his skinny hand. But his fat-ass gaffer ignored it and climbed up unto the crates. Cretin sunk unto the ground and held his sad head in his slippery hands. After a lot of royalty style waving Twaddle started off: Twaddle
I say to you, my friends-- it is the Scots, and the Welsh who have all the good jobs-- and those of them