Tony and his dog, Tony, walked the streets of Old Sodbury. From time to time, they ventured into Old Minchinhampton (the town of mini chins).

It was a sunny day and the sun was out in all of its glory. Tony was in a hell of a mood and Tony could tell. Why did his team always lose the football? I couldn’t fucking tell you, but Tony could, and he did.

“You can’t say anything nowadays.”

Tony agreed.

But, being Tony, he would show them. He was re-writing the bible. It was going to be a lot more concise (he’d write out all the women), and a lot more saucy.

He looked out across a field and the sun struck his left ear. It made him look like a leg of Serrano ham. Lighting is funny like that. Perhaps that was why he never married. Bad lighting making him hammy. But he’d show them. He’d show them with his saucy bible. And if that didn’t work, he’d simply poison the water supply of Old Sodbury and claim insanity.