Don and Wen are now pursued on their, increasingly, anarchic journey through the ancient British landscape… while poor Ben rots in Bakewall Gaol! … “Stone Hugger” – could it get any worse?
Bark Jaw-Dark contemplated the pork pie he had recently fished from the depths of the jacket pocket of his un-pressed suit and placed it whole in his mouth.
“Jaw-Dark,” spluttered Bark through the pork and pastry.
“Is this a joke?” snarled Bark’s mentor, Tom Patrick, picking up the newly positioned desk tag and scrutinising it distastefully.
Bark swallowed and gulped, “Real name’s Mark… first day at school… had a cold… never been able to shake it.”
“The cold or the name?” smiled Patrick, briefly impressed with his own wit, and then continued more seriously, “You don’t get these unless you’re important… and you’re not.”
The desk tag flew through the air and plummeted into the depths of the tall blue recycling bin with a dull thud.
“And you can drop the sir. It’s Tom. In this day and age we treat you…
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