Dave Trellis and the Allotments of Doom Read Online Free Page A

arm in arm. They
started high kicking like a chorus line and burst into song.
    ‘One hundred
and one tonnes of fun, that’s my little Honey Bun’.
    ‘Bollocks,’
said Dave, ‘bloody show tunes again. Forgive them lad, they are a
little giddy right now, what with bragging rights and all.’
    ‘What?’ said
Fergus, struggling to get a grip on the moment.
    ‘They just saw
an X9 or thereabouts and we’ll never hear the last of it.
    ‘X9, sorry I
don’t follow,’ said Fergus.
    ‘Ah, let me
explain. The letter designates how alien the life form, the number
how dangerous. X is rare, as you would never frequent such an alien
environment and 9 the realistic maximum, as being in visual range
of anything that dangerous is usually fatal.’
    ‘Erm… Ok’ Said
Fergus and rubbed his forehead with his fingers.
    ‘Put it this
way,’ continued Dave, ‘If they were Train-spotters, they couldn’t
be happier if the Flying Scotsman pulled up outside thei r bed-sit,
signed their spotting books and took them on a time-travel journey
of landmark trains throughout history. They’ll be giddy as a maiden
aunt on her second bottle of Gin. And if it’s a new species, they
get to name it.’
    Enoch pulled
away from the chorus line and lurched towards Dave.
    ‘Bonkah, Davey
boy. We name this creature – Honey Bun.’ Enoch had a huge grin on
his face.
    ‘Duly noted,’
said Dave.
    ‘Grand,’ said
Enoch.
    ‘Bugger off and
don’t take the piss. You’ve a ways to go before you get a Yorkshire
passport,’ said Dave.
    ‘Where are
doggies? Enoch looked around and shouted. ‘Doggy, dog, dog, come
play little doggies.’
    Twelve dogs
trotted across the lawn in perfect formation; they stopped halfway
and sat. Enoch saw them and laughed. The lead dog carried what
looked like a rugby ball with handles. It dropped the ball on the
ground and fixed Enoch with a stare, barked once and grinned.
    ‘Ready to play
little doggies? Want a re-match?’
    ‘Oi!’ shouted
Dave, ‘No rugby, not after last time.’
    ‘What gonna do
Davey boy?’ said Enoch grinning.
    ‘Oh alright
then,’ said Dave, ‘But allotment rules and no gravity belts. I
don’t want the bloody RSPCA round again.’
    Enoch nodded,
turned around, and yelled ‘Rugby’. The Palaver exploded in joy like
a bunch of girl guides at a pop concert.
    ‘Allotment
rules?’ asked Fergus
    ‘No biting of
testicles,’ said Dave.
    ‘Well in that
case I’m joining in. I really feel like jumping, running around and
shouting like a madman; I feel as giddy as that lot,’ said Fergus
pointing at the Palaver.
    ‘No bloody way,
you stay put.’
    ‘What you gonna
do Davey boy?’ said Fergus
    Dave looked at
Fergus and hunched his shoulders.
    ‘If you can
talk the talk boy, off you go. I am going to sit here and drink
superb Irish whiskey, smoke a cigar and enjoy the fact that someone
out there likes my book. I shall await your return, assuming of
course, that it only requires a stretcher and not a full-blown trip
to A&E. Good luck lad, you are going to need it.’
    Fergus trotted
over to the Palaver, who started sniggering and pointing at him.
When they started laughing out loud, Fergus trotted over to the
dogs with his head down, muttering obscenities. They seemed
under-whelmed, but one of them took Fergus’s hand in its mouth and
led him over to the left wing.
    Dave beckoned
to Enoch, who trotted over to the pavilion.
    ‘Look, that lad
is green as a cucumber. He doesn’t know his elbow from a punch in
the kidneys, you can’t let him play with you and the dogs,’ said
Dave.
    ‘Is he
warrior?’ asked Enoch. ‘Does mother dress him?
    ‘Don’t give me
that old crap; you know how innocent he is.’
    ‘He want play –
let play. Just rugby, no swords.’
    ‘Enoch, he’s
human, not palaver, not dog. He can’t play with you – he’ll be
wrecked.’
    ‘Dave, we be
gentle. Let him be man.’
    ‘Only if you
accept responsibility Enoch, you break him, you fix