Dog meets Mod
"Yap yap yap, yap yap." "If that bugger next door don't shut that bloody dog's trap I'll rip the head off the pair of um!!" "Take yer head out your arse Alfie, and stop trying ter find the answers to yer problems in a bottle." Alfie put down his Scotch and announced he was going out. Ever since he'd learnt of his paternity, going out meant the pub, just the way St John had done, whenever Polly and him had words.
Tracie tried to reconcile this drunken disheveled oaf with the man she'd fallen in love with, and burst into tears as he left the house. Tap tap tap, tap tap tap. Tracie's heart sank, she feared the worst and expected the police to be knocking the door. "He's got potential. I've named him Bodging Tackle, Bodge for short." Alfie still looked a mess but he had that glint back in his eye, as he handed me next doors dog. "PS. he's seen fit to bugger off back to Essex where he belongs, and by Christ if he touches that dog again, I'll kill him.
It's hard to imagine now looking at Bodge all grown up and handsome, and Alfie back to being the face that he always was, that 3 years ago the pair of them stood on the doorstep looking like they'd slept in a ditch. There's a moral in there somewhere.
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