THE NOD CORNER
THIS WEEK: NOD'S WINDFALL
Fantastic news to start this week's column. I've come up on the pools! Arf a million quid!
I've bin trying for monfs for the jackpot, fillin' in the "x"s an' parsin' on the coupon to my faithful dog Sod, 'oo scampers off wiv it to the nearest postbox. All secret from Carl, of course, 'oo frowns upon all forms of human pleasure an' rightly so. Well, so far I've 'ad little enuff joy to trangress Carl's principles but last week, a 5-5 draw between Brechin City an' East Stirling 'ad me whoopin with delight!
"Lads! I've won arf a million pounds!" I screamed.
The uvver bastards looked at one anuvver, wiv baleful eyes. "Isn't there a rule that says short people are ineligible for the jackpot?" jeered Pete.
"No, there ain't!" I retorted, tartly.
"Isn't there a rule that c**ts are ineligible for the jackpot?" jeered Paul, drawin' blood wiv 'is rapier wit.
"I'm twice the c**t you'll ever be!" I retorted, the wittier man on the day.
"Well we've got to hand it to you, Nod. Congratulations, " said Tony, quite decently admitting defeat. "Fanks!" I said but my first fought was for Sod. Every week 'e'd trudged dahn to the postbox in all weathers wiv my coupon. The least 'e deserved was 'is daily biscuit. "Sod! Oh Sod!" I trilled. An' in 'e bahnded wiv 'a friendly growl and scratched my leg affectionately. I was just abaht to pop the biscuit - which I always keep on the mantel piece each afternoon, lest I forget - in Sod's mahth, when as one, the uvvers lunged forward urgently.
"NO-OO! Don't!" screamed Tony. Eh?
"That's no dog biscuit - that's Carl's priceless scarab! A Cheops from the Fourth Dyanasty. His most treasured relic!" howled Pete. "But it looks like a dog biscuit", I said puzzled, "Look, it's got BONIO written on it".
"Exactly! The Emperor Bo Nio, Lord Of All The Chinas!" explained Paul. Cor! What an escape for me! I fanked the lads again. "Here's your actual biscuit" said Tony. I enquired abaht the Chinese writing all over it but the lads reassured me it was Winalot's new chop suey line. Cor, the fings they produce these days! I fed it to Sod, 'oo gulped it dahn an' bit my hand as well. That's 'ow 'e shows 'is loyalty. Anyone but me e'd merely give 'em an unfriendly lick.
At that moment, Carl entered the room. I was abaht to blurt out the news of my good fortune when Carl asked, "Has anybody seen my priceless scarab? It appears to be missing".
I stepped forward. "H-Here it is, C-Carl!"
To my disconsternation, Carl glowered at me. "What's the meaning of this? This is a dog biscuit. Where's my scarab?" "In Sod's stomach I'm afraid Carl," volunteered Pete. "Fed to him by Nod. That, I fear, is the value he places on your most cherished possession" I never! I-
"Ten press-ups!" shrieked Carl. "And half a million pounds compensation. Pay-up!"
My winnings wiped aht! As I got dahn an' started pumping, Sod wandered up an' sniffed my face. "It's not your fault, Sod" I croaked. But as I said that, he gulped three times ominously an' vomited in my face. The scarab (chewed beyond recognition) 'ad disagreed wiv 'im - an' , as I wiped my face, I was aware of several bits of regurgitated pools coupons clinging to my fingers. I pieced them together... this week's coupon! Oh God! Sod 'adn't posted it at all! 'E'd eaten it instead! ...