Twaddle My trusted brethren, I hereby promise you all, that, if you succeed this day in driving out every single Scot from the Hammer and Cockroach and every single Irish person from the Travellers Rest you will thereafter hold the rank of‘ Lance-jack’ in my personal bodyguard. Furthermore, your leader, Sergeant Davy Brudder, will receive special consideration regarding certain graces and favours for the future. Brudder What about the Taffy Turds we can’ t let them go free? Twaddle My good friend, those people have no local, when did you ever see a Welshman buying a round Pickles Eventually they all set off down Half Inch Street- bound for the Hammer and Cockroach and Traveller’ s Rest and the demise of the Scottish and Irish contingent of Plonkton. Pickles Twaddle drove slowly ahead on his Harley Robinson Special with the dejected Cecil Cretin traipsing alongside – whimpering. Cretin Good friends again? Good friends again Duke? Good friends, you and me?
IN THE STREETS OF PLONKTON Pickles Twaddle eventually reached out and patted little Cecil Cretin on the head then patted the pillion seat invitingly. The man who stole milk from the NSPCC accepted gleefully and hopped on board. Then disaster struck. The Cidermen burst out of the Cosh and Jemmy and joined them. Some were singing, some were bawling, some were sick and some were carrying some that were worse than the rest. A Highlander who had carelessly strayed into Carver Street was chased up Union Entry and was lucky to escape with nothing worse than a badly shredded sporran. A greengrocer, called Jones, was accosted near Pie Street but released when found
not to be in possession of leeks. A Scoucer was stopped in Dock Street but granted a pardon when he renounced his nationality and adopted English. A man in a donkey jacket was asked his name but refused to co-operate. An astute Ciderman noticed the name MacAlpine on his back and shouted: Cidermen Get him! We know him, he’ s called Paddy MacAlpine. Pickles The man was put on a double-decker and told to jump off when he heard the conductor shout‘ Ratferry’ the mob splattered their way down Dock Street and was joined there by Tinker Street Non-subscribing Salvation Army Band, now parading to the tune of‘ Paddy McGinty’ s Goat’. When they reached the corner of Railway Terrace, Marmaduke raised his hand and everybody bumped into each other, slopping cider all over those in front. Pointing at Billy Gargoyle, Twaddle signalled: Twaddle Billy! Beat the drum slowly. Pickles Twaddle got up on the sea wall, put his hand into his pocket and produced a soft pink thing riddled with veins. Suckpepper Oh look! Look everyone! His Grace has produced one of his ping-pongs. It is my guess that this is going to be a sacrifice. Oh!-- The Duke is so brave! Don ' t you think Sergeant Brudder? Brudder It ' s only a haggis, you silly tit! Pickles Twaddle squirted petrol on the little haggis and set it ablaze. He held it up on a stick and shouted: Twaddle Out! Out! Out! Out with anyone wearing a kilt, a sporran or a little dagger artfully concealed in a sock.