[Trevor Legate]

A joke, young Patrick? No jokes here, we're British.

Indeed Mr.Wayne, sir, my Nigerian office is still open for business despite being given a new coat of whitewash and a further layer of cow-dung on the roof. Sadly it seems that your Americanian cousins are no longer receptive to my entreaties to send funds to my new project and I fear we may have to lay off the staff of 120 poor souls and slaughter all da chickens.

May I thank you Mr.WhatsaCoe for your kind and somewhat lengthy outpourings - your kind words and advice are seriously heeded. I was indeed hoping that with a road drill and a toothbrush I might dislodge all the highly valuable guano, laid down by pigeons wot done evacuated their bowels since the time of the the Viking raiders, and sell this on the open market as fertiliser for the royal gardens at the Buckingham of the Palace. Your words have done blown da gaff. Now I'll have about 300 Chinese guano pickers scrambling over my hovel and stealing my prized crap.

However my plan to build the finest of sporting repicas on these islands will continue since its been discovered that a back axle makes a fine weapon when it comes to dispatching the unsuspecting beluga whales that visit the harbour in search of cuddles and human contact. Thus we now eat well and I'm something of a hero, even though I am getting a bit fed up with blubber-burgers....

Tis interesting that you mention the now-legendary Texicanian poultry farmer that paid a fleeting visit to yon shores, since I was told the saga at me mothers knee and thought it all part of an old Norse legend. Seems the gent in question set up a factory, then closed it down, went to far shores to slaughter animals only to return and take control of the chicken-fanciers clubs, having paid them 1 groat for the privilege. He then kept the records of all the birds though many around these parts suspected he cloned many and sold duplicates of some of the prized roosters. He even began selling empty chicken eggs as 'Shell A' and the always popular but very fragile 'Shell B'. Legend says he was run out of town and he went into the west, but not before the local Lubby witch put a spell on him that ensured he lived forever. Serve him right.

and sorry about the mess on the bar, but that aint spittle.... :-0