Even If I Come And Get Him

My Dear Fellow,

Bokhara, Mad Dog and I had been in the bar an hour when there was a SHRIEK. A blood-curdling cry that meant a potential bar fight.

"Hilary!!" said Bokhara. It was indeed she who had made that noise upon seeing him. She swept him up in a big hug and then bought us all drinks.

It was good fun. We got to talking about Old Dude hair from which Mad Dog, Bokhara and I all now suffer. "I mean WHY?" asked Bokhara. "Who THE EFF needs a single hair growing out the top of their ear?"

"Oh Bill has one of those," replied Hilary. "We call it his Overachiever Hair."

Naturally, Val Doonican came up. Hilary relayed the story of how we tortured each other with the earworm that is "Delaney's Donkey" for a year when she and I worked together.

"And then on his last day, this FECKER buys me the CD," she told Mad Dog and Bokhara. "I wouldn't mind but whenever Bill gets home drunk he INSISTS it goes on."

As chance would have it, an elderly relative in Canada asked Hilary if she happened to know the words to "Delaney's Donkey".

"That feckin' cd was in the airmail later that day," said Hilary with relish. "The next time Bill came in w@nkered, I told him Val had left the building."

I offered to buy her a replacement.

"DON'T YOU FECKIN' DARE," she replied as she kissed me good-night.

Bokhara was in pensive mood as our taxi took us home. "Funny, it's like being in a goldfish bowl," he said. "All these young uns out doing daft stuff. And we're out in it, but just watching. We're not part of it anymore."

I'm not so sure. I think we have just a little daftness left in us yet. You shall shortly find out.

Parsones