One for the road

Last night after concluding my little bit of business, I decided to drop into The Bull for a quick half.
It was fairly busy for a Wednesday night and almost straight away I bumped into Hilly who actually offered to stand me a pint so he was either drunk or had just managed to hood-wink some old duffer out of her life savings. To be fair to Hilly, he is one of the better characters in the world of pensions and investments. Unlike the vast majority in that field, at least Hilly is polite and will have a laugh with you as he dips his podgey little digits into your worldly wealth. I must say though, last night he did look awfully fat. When I pointed this out to him, he simply replied that it was due to spending the last two weeks at home with his wife, to which I replied he should shag her, not eat her...

I was just about to leave at the sound of last orders when I heard someone call my name and I saw that the Bishop had appeared from the gents toilets. He came across and was muttering something about the Adnams Broadside being off, to which I replied that I have never known a pint of Adnams to be 'on'. It truly is the most foul old shyte known to man and can give you an arse like a firestorm in Dresden.
Anyway, he then asked me if I knew who the girl was that had just moved into one of the stable blocks that we converted last year into apartments. I can't remember her name in all honesty, although I should as she signed the lease but to be fair I don't really see that much of her as she works in London, so I don't know that much about her except I know they call her 'Dylan' as I have heard some of her friends call her that when they picked her up one night. When I asked him why he wanted to know, he became reluctant to say and came out with some old cobblers about wanting to invite her to evensong.
I reckon the dirty old sod has other things in mind for her and if he gets his way, she'll be spreading more than the word of God...

Anyway, it was late before I managed to get back up to the hall and as I came along the drive, I saw that the light in the study was on and I'm sure I turned it off. I went round the back and let myself in and I could smell cigar smoke combined with a whiff of silage and knew who it was at once. I opened the door of the study and there sat Tony Lumpkin, an old friend from college. "I've been expecting you" he said to which I replied that I was not surprised as it was my house so it hardly makes him Inspector George Gently. I also noticed that he had managed to drink half the contents of my bottle of Taylor's 92' Port. He very kindly poured me a glass of my own drink (!) and began to tell me some rather interesting gossip...