by Roger Noons
Pint of best bitter
It was my brother who pointed him out. One Saturday lunchtime, we were on our way to the match; thought we’d enjoy a pint in The Hollybush.
“You see that chap there?”
“He used to work at Jennings Brothers, well, he turned up now and again, I’m not so sure he was keen on work, but he got nicked.”
“Receiving. A bit unlucky really. His wife reported having seen a rat in the back garden and when the Pest Control Officer went round to check, he found thousands of fags in the shed. He rang the Police and they raided before Danny had a chance to shift ‘em. Players, they were, untipped.
“Worth a few bob, I bet?”
“About ten grand, according to the write up in the paper, when it went to court.”
“That’d be a lot of money in those days?”
“Yeah, mind you it was a big shed.”
“How long did he go down for?”
“Two years, I think. Of course he wouldn’t have served that long, always on his best behaviour, Danny.”
“It sounds like it.”
Tom looked at his watch. “I reckon we’ve time for another, especially as it’s your shout.”
By the time I returned from the bar, Danny Collis had left. After we’d taken the tops off our bitter, Tom said. “Fancy a cigar?”
I took a King Edward from the hinged box. “Where’d you get these from?”
“I just said hello to Danny, asked him how he was.”
Another piece from Roger, one of our regular contributors.