The bar of The Skaters Run was gradually beginning to empty. The FA Cup final had finished and the Arsenal players had returned to the dressing room to drink champagne from the cup and leap up and down. Most of the patrons 
of the Skaters were in no fit state to jump about having been in the pub for the past five hours or so. 
Yaxley Farcett and Clive Lancaster were still sitting in the corner of the pub as the locals gradually began to filter out. 'There they go' said Lancaster eyeing the exodus over the top of his pint. 'Seven pints of Threaknecks and then back to their wives to tell them all about the soccer...don't get me wrong, I love the game but I can't stand this trend for watching it in the pub'. At the mention of the word 'soccer', Yaxley's skin crawled. He wanted to write 'Football' on a large piece of wood and bash Lancaster over the head with it. Just the sound of the word made Yaxley cringe; like finger nails down a blackboard, like the prongs of two forks tangled up, like licking a dry wooden spoon, like..like..like....well, like someone calling football; 'soccer'. Yaxley nodded slowly and said, 'Big footie fan are we then Clive?'
'Yes, I've been keen on the game since the formation of the league'. Yaxley frowned. 'What, since 1888 ? Lancaster reddened. 'Er..er..No. I meant the Premier League. 1992'. That took the biscuit. Farcett decided to change the subject before he throttled the man.
'Clive. You are obviously aware of Cedric Morgan's business dealings as his accountant. Are you good friends ? Do you know much about his personal life ?' 'Enough to know that he is an energetic, dedicated Member of Parliament for this area and a loving family man' replied Lancaster. That confirmed it for Yaxley. He obviously knew bugger all about him. A vacuous non-statement which sounded like a corporate babble leaflet was the language of an empty oil drum being whacked very loudly with a stick. Like they used to say at school, 'empty vessels make the most noise'. 'Where did you first meet Morgan?' continued Yaxley. 'When I took on his account at 'Bugg, Milton and Creech'. I was only a junior at the time and he encouraged me to push for a full partnership. After a couple of years I also joined the party and began to work with him. Cedric got the party to send me on management training courses...team leading, positive thinking, that kind of stuff. I've ambitions to stand for parliament when Cedric decides he's had enough'. Yaxley groaned at the mention of the infamous 'management courses'. He had been sent on a few when he was a young Detective Sergeant and the American style 'leadership' techniques had become fashionable. The 'delegates' were put into groups of six and given a variety of tasks to perform. These were sufficiently surreal so as to enable a natural leader to come forward in true 'Cometh the hour Cometh the man' style. However, rather than the man being discovered on the fields of Flanders or in the POW camps of Singapore, these heroes of management were to be found lying on the floor trying to get an egg from one side of the room to another without being allowed to use their hands. The instructor, normally unemployable in any other profession, would stand at the side of the room encouraging the participants to 'focus', 'synergise' or any other word that means bugger all (Cue the sound of that oil drum being thwacked again).
'And has he given any hints that he might be standing down in the near future ?' probed Farcett. 'No' replied Lancaster, 'On the contrary..His relationship with the PM is fantastic and we're looking at a junior post in the Agriculture department quite soon, I hope'. Yaxley hid a yawn behind his pint which he swiftly drained. If Lancaster did know anything, he wasn't going to get the information from him here. He stood up and nodded, 'Thanks for your time. I'll get back to you if I need to'.
Returning to the bar he found Fiona and Fred Ricketts in intense conversation. The topic at hand had moved on from dogs to birds. 'He never !!' Yaxley heard Fiona exclaim as he approached the bar. Rickett's nodded sagely 'Sure as I'm sitting here he did'. Fiona clamped a hand across her mouth, 'Oh my God I never realised'.
Yaxley sat down at a stool next to Fiona and asked what they were on 
about. Fred winked at Yaxley and said 'I was just telling young Fiona here about the perils of eating too much pigeon. Old Shakey Bacon that used to live down Hadlode Fen had a spell when he fell on hard times and ended up shooting pigeons off his roof. He ate six one week; one day after another. The next one killed him !' Yaxley laughed and said 'You're having us on aren't you...sounds like another 'bull shaving' story to me'. Fred narrowed his eyes and continued. 'It takes twenty eight hours to digest pigeon...you have it seven days in a row and you might as well write yor will !'
about. Fred winked at Yaxley and said 'I was just telling young Fiona here about the perils of eating too much pigeon. Old Shakey Bacon that used to live down Hadlode Fen had a spell when he fell on hard times and ended up shooting pigeons off his roof. He ate six one week; one day after another. The next one killed him !' Yaxley laughed and said 'You're having us on aren't you...sounds like another 'bull shaving' story to me'. Fred narrowed his eyes and continued. 'It takes twenty eight hours to digest pigeon...you have it seven days in a row and you might as well write yor will !'
