Sunday, September 03, 2006

Ferrets, Finches and Dwarves.

Sadly, I have not got a picture of Evar in his full competition regalia. This will have to do.

The return of the prodigals.

On some Saturday nights in the “Rat and Ferret”, there comes a time when the conversation begins to flag. Last night was no exception. As it was “Mattress Madge’s” night off and Sid was behind the bar, even watching the pulling of pints didn’t have the same appeal. (Note 1)

Thankfully, just as were beginning to wonder if a fight was going to break out over the last bag of pork scratchings, the door opened and in walked Chief Inspector McCrindle Barleymow Honeydew-Fforbes with Evar handcuffed to one arm.and Padstow to the other.

No, not a picture of Evar, but of Charles Darwin – expert on the courting songs of Galapagos finches.

Those of my yeomen with long memories, may remember that Evar was away at a secret hideaway preparing for The World Beard and Moustache Championships. On Friday, Padstow picked him up from his camp in the heart of the Peak District and together they headed off to Brighton.

It might have been the excitement of the occasion or the fact that Evar discovered a catering size pack of chocolate fudge, but somewhere along the way, they hatched a plan. (Note 2)

Deciding that making a grand entrance to the Championships would improve Evar’s chances, the two of them climbed on to the roof and forced a fanlight. Evar, in the full regalia of a Polish Winged Hussar, then abseiled into the hall.

No, not Evar. This is a very happy man pretending to be a Polish Winged Hussar.

Somewhere, in the intricate planning a small oversight occurred. Evar, in his excitement over the opportunity to be a multiple world champion had failed to check the dates. They had rolled up a year early. Such was their extreme sugar high they neglected safety equipment. Evar was two thirds of the way down when he suddenly realised that instead of being surrounded by hirsute gentlemen around the globe, he was plunging towards rows upon rows of cages.

When Evar realised that he was gate crashing the Southern England Finch Breeding Show, he did the honourable thing. He let go of the rope. His fall was broken by the cages containing Peruvian Love Finches. (Note 3)

Luckily for Evar, McRindle was exhibiting his Galapagos Finches. He was able to save him from a probable lynching and return him to the relative safety of the “Rat and Ferret”.

McRindle was in element telling the story at some length and pausing now and again while regulars kept him topped up with Brandy.

With impeccable timing, as his tale neared the end, a small, exhausted finch flopped out of Evar’s beard, waved a wing in the approximate direction of Evar and then staggered out of the door. McRindle took pity of his charges and started to unlock the handcuffs.

As he did so, he peered into Evar’s beard and said “Your beard nest needs fixing, Evar.”

What do you mean that was contrived?

And Evar isn’t the only prodigal to pop back into my life.

Remember Armand, Luis and Angel? Well, this morning I got another email from Florentino Floro Files. It was a lovely newsy email updating me on his continuing struggle to remain in post. (Note 4)

From 14th June, the industry standard Crozzy Standard has been applied to footnotes.

NOTE 1: Please, my upstanding yeomen, don’t take this the wrong way. Young Madge’s nickname stems from her part time sales job. There is nothing quite like watching her going door to door with a superior king size divan under each arm. Such is her dedication she has the best figures in the county – which is why I enjoy watching her pull a pint. Click to return

NOTE 2 : It is not a good idea to allow Padstow access to sugar. You might as well feed him a whole bottle of dried frog pills and hand him a chainsaw. Padstow once had this plan to be the first person to cross the Atlantic on a pedalo after a heavy night on thenougat. Three days later, he had to be rescued after running aground on the Grand Union Canal just outside Coventry. Click to return

NOTE 3: The Peruvian Love Finch is a very rare breed – and now much rarer. The male of the species is a very energetic lover who upon sight of a female, swoops down and grabs her in his little beak and then whisks her off to the nesting site. There they mate, not for life, but for at least two and a half days. At the end of the mating, the male staggers away from the nest saying that he is just off to get some milk and is never seen again. Click to return

NOTE 4: It just goes to show that this blooging lark and all of the various technologies that surround it actually works. You never know just who will find your blog and actually read it andpass comment. Click to return

The truth is out there.

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"pippa" said...

you are such a naughty boy... ;)

Simon said...


I'm sure I don't know what you mean!


"pippa" said...

right. you just keep telling yourself that.

Simon said...

What is more - I now believe it!