“You wouldn’t believe what happened at the weekend, Lucifer.”
“You’re right there, Scorcher. Go on. Let’s have it.”
“I were out on the ale on Saturday night with my mate, Treacle. Well, come Sunday morning, the phone goes. It’s Treacle.
‘Here, Scorcher. I’ve had a bit of an accident.’ he says.
‘What sort of accident, Treacle?’ I say.
‘I must have had a bad pint or summat, last night,’ he says. ‘I threw my guts up when I got home last night, and you know what?’
‘What?’ I says.
‘I only went and puked my false teeth down the lavvy, didn’t I?’ he says.
“Any road, quick as a flash I say to him, ‘What time did you puke, Treacle?’
‘It were twelve thirty five, Scorcher.’ he says.
” ‘Right,’ I says, ‘Get your coat, Treacle. I’ll be there in ten.’
“I got round to Treacles house double quick, he jumped in the motor, and we were off.
“‘Where are we going, Scorcher?’ he says.
‘Sewage works, Treacle,’ I says. ‘I know a bloke who works there. I reckon we’ll be there just in time.’
“We got there just in time.
“We jumps out, and ran full tilt right across to where my mate, Coprolite was working.
” ‘Here! Coprolite! My mate lost his choppers down the bog last night!’ I says.
” ‘What time, Scorcher?’ he says.
” ‘Twelve thirty five,’ I says.
” ‘What street?’ he says.
“I told him, and he grabs a big net. ‘Quick, we’ve only got a few seconds!’ he says. We all ran to this big outlet pipe, Coprolite shoves his net under the pipe, just in time to catch my mates false gnashers as they fall out.”
“Yeah, really Lucifer. But you know what? Treacle were so chuffed, he just grabbed his teeth out of the net and shoved them straight back in his gob!”
Scorcher shook his head.
“Can’t believe some people, can you?”
“No scorcher. You can’t.”