Davey Brown was pushing his eight month old baby, Davey Junior, down the hill to town in his pushchair one day when he was approached from his blind side by a stranger.
'Excuse me,' said the stranger, 'are you aware that there's no baby in your pushchair?'
'No baby?' enquired Davey Brown, bending over to have a look.
'No,' replied the man, 'it's completely empty I'm afraid.'
'Hmmm, how curious,' said Davey, stroking his chin thoughtfully, 'he was there a moment ago. He was sharing his thoughts on the benefits of a private education with me.'
'Well don't worry, we'll find him,' said the stranger. 'The best thing we can do now is go down to the Crowded House and have a few drinks while we think things over.' Davey wholeheartedly agreed with this course of action, and the two men set off for the pub.
On their way, they encountered a group of four old ladies stood on a corner discussing reasons why the past was vastly superior to the present. Each had a dog of varying size.
'I don't suppose you've seen a little baby around have you?' asked the stranger cheerfully. 'This gentleman appears to have misplaced his.'
The old ladies looked the stranger up and down and then all four started barking ferociously at the two men. Their dogs rolled their eyes at each other and shook their heads in embarrassment. This was evidently a common occurrence. The two men merely shrugged and continued on their way. They had weightier matters to consider than a gang of barking old women, and besides, they were very thirsty.
Upon arriving at the pub, they ordered a pint each and went to sit in the corner to discuss Davey's predicament. However, a couple of pints later, they had moved on to other subjects, such as football statistics, venereal disease and sixteenth century monarchs. During a debate about Mary I's short but murderous reign, they were approached by the portly, red-headed farmer Jackie Scott, his cheeks as red as those of a Victorian whore.
'Ah, it's you two,' he slurred. 'How are you getting on? I've had four pints of lager, two pints of stout and three whisky chasers. I'm mangled I am, and it's not even five o'clock yet! Stitch that!'
'We're not playing that game today Jackie Scott,' said Davey Brown. 'I've lost my baby and we're cooking up a plan to find him.'
'Davey Junior?' asked Jackie Scott. 'Why I've just come from him; he's drinking over the road in the Aztec Camera. He was the one who got me the stouts fair play to him, although I don't much care for his views on education. Anyway, you should be aware that he's very, very drunk. They reckon he went in the Post Office and called Mrs Stamp 'a cracked old nipple' because she caught him stealing some envelopes. Then he apparently pissed all over the counter before they threw him out.'
'Oh dear!' laughed Davey Brown, 'I'm afraid his tolerance of alcohol isn't great what with him being so small. Well, I suppose I'd better go and fetch him home. He'll sleep tonight that's for sure!' And off he went, leaving the helpful stranger to join Jackie Scott in a round of 'the-one-who-drinks-the-most-wins'.
It later transpired that Davey Junior had become an alcoholic because Davey Brown had mistakenly been giving him brandy to drink instead of apple juice. The two bottles were kept side-by-side in the kitchen, so in all honesty it was something that could have happened to anyone.
Happily, after a period of rehabilitation, Davey Junior, who has since celebrated his first birthday, now totally abstains, although he does enjoy the odd cigarette 'just to take the edge off'. He has also revised his views on education, and now looks set to attend the local mainstream primary school when the time comes.
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