Footrot Flats The Dogs Tale Page #2

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He's placed the ball for the kick.

But I'm wondering, Cliff.

Did you notice, did Footrot land on his head?

He seemed to be intended to kick the ball away from the post.

I know, it's easy to criticize from up here, but...

He's running in.

He's kicked.

It's sailing up and away from the post.

But wait! It's bending!

My God!

It's been caught against the wind.

And it's veering back towards the post.

It's over! What a beauty!

What a perfect demonstration of a nascent ability to read the weather.

Superb!

But I fear now, that Footrot will be a marked man.

I don't wanna say this, Cliff.

But that looked a bit over-vigorous from the Lions.

Just a trifle physical from the dirty swine, don't you think?

However, there it is.

What do you expect from a frog referee who probably thinks a rug is a large stone.

Still, back to the game.

Looks like the Lions have scored a lucky try.

I don't want to appear one-eyed, Cliff.

But it pisses you off, doesn't it?

Well, there's just time for the conversion.

This will give them a draw.

And now say to that, they are almost as good as us...

Makes you wanna go and shoot a bloody referee, doesn't it.

But wait on!

It's Wallace Footrot!

He's back!

Brave lad!

That'll show them the sort of stuff we're made off. My word!

But I fear it's too late.

What can even a whizzer do with just time for the kick to be taken.

And in comes the boringly consistent pom kicker to convert the try.

He kicks.

It's straight, of course. The pale little pom poofter.

But, wait.

Unbelievable!

What a save!

Wallace Footrot has swung up on the cross-bar and kicked the ball away!

It's a charge down and we're still the world champions!

And the hero of the day: Whizzer Wal Footrot!

An All Blacks selector...

What do you reckon, Dog?

Should I give it a go?

I'll start training immediately.

Starting tomorrow...

Cripes, be like kinda licking a watermelon into shape.

Man needs a good breakfast to train on.

Hmm.

Into it.

And away we go!

Hells bells.

He's old enough to know that all you go to bed with the night before a game is, is a cup of warm cocoa.

Is this "Whizzer Wal Footrot", the panther of the footy paddock?

All you should be wearing is a dedicated smell, mate!

Ye, gods!

Sex scent?

Ooh, that smarts.

Don't go into town, Wal.

Raupo's Sodom and Gomorrha on Friday nights.

Ah. Tonight's the night, Cheeky.

The fool.

He's gonna see that blonde, tantrous Cheeky Hobson.

What a dork!

How can you do this to me, Wal.

Tonight of all nights.

You get a guy to pick fitness...

And he allows himself to be destroyed by the pleasures of the flesh.

Wallie, don't go!

You coming, Dog?

G'day, Wal.

You ready for the big match, mate?

No worries, mate.

'Evening, ladies.

Ah, g'day, Cheeky.

I, uhm..

Gives us five minutes, Wallie.

OK, Cheeky.

I've got just the place lined up for tonight.

I'll book us a table and then after that the night is young.

How about the pictures?

Oh, Wallace.

You mad, rash boy.

Here's looking at you, kid.

Takes us back to the dear old kitchen, Wal.

A nice cuppa tea and a gingernut to dunk.

Shouldn't you oughta be in bed?

Wallie, come home!

Dim lights. The best feed in town.

Oh, Wal. You devil.

Come home, or I'll break your leg!

Get out of it, Dog. Get out of it.

Leave a man alone.

Sorry about that, Cheeky.

Alas, poor Wallace.

I knew him well.

Oh, Wal, you shouldn't have.

I haven't.

Best kai on the coast.

Forget the expense, Cheeky, you can have chips with everything tonight.

Ah, gaston!

The young lady and meself wish to partake of a decent feed before going to the flicks.

What does the chef recommend, ce soir?

"Mr Pawai" to you Footrot and none of your cheek, mate.

Now, oysters and steak and sausages are off.

Baked beans, eggs, chips and savs.

There you are. Take your choice.

The lot, eh, Cheeky? What do you reckon?

Yeah, we'll have the lot. And don't spare the bread and butter.

Oh, and two teas.

Durk's teas. Yes, I understand it was a very good year in Salaam.

I can see him now ballsing up all our training in some seedy den of vice.

What foul schemes lurk in that woman's tortured mind.

Excuse me, my Dear.

Nature caller.

I've gotta dash into the dunny for a quick slash.

Is that the one?

Ja.

Have you got ze poison.

Right here, man-friend.

Of course, poison!

This looks like a risk job for the gray ghost.

Voila, voila.

Here's your tucker. Bon appetite, you fellas.

Great stuff.

In you go, Cheeky.

Can't wait...

Don't use sugar, Wallie, makes you fat.

Have some of my saccharine tablets.

Oh, come on, Cheeky.

I'm a growing lad.

I need the real thing to keep me energy up.

The old poison-in-the-cup-of-tea trick.

You can thank your lucky stars, Wallace Footrot...

...that the gray ghost wasn't taken in by this brazen hussy.

Very funny.

Of course, the old pills-in-the-baked-beans roost.

Can this be it?

Nope.

Not that one either.

Where are you little pills?

Come here, little pills.

I'm coming to get you, little pills.

Damn you, little pills.

Oh...

You are not poison, are you, little pills.

You want any pud, or what?

Pudding then, Cheeky?

Wallace Footrot!

I don't ever want to see you again.

Never, ever.

What about the footy tomorrow?

Just the one dessert then, is it, ah, Wal?

Come on.

You can sit here and dream up lots more brilliant ways of ruining me life.

I tried to save his career and this is what I get:

Guard the walnuts.

You think you can break my spirit, do you, Wal Footrot?

Well, you're not dealing with rubbish here, mate!

The blood of the gray ghost flows in these veins.

I got one thing to say to you, Wal Footrot.

I'm sorry.

Who is there?

Don't answer that!

Ye, gods!

Me old ancestors were wolves, you know.

Killers.

Moose slayers.

Rat lovers?

Rats?

Meet Horse.

The gray ghost does not surrender.

The gray ghost does not retreat.

The gray ghost...

...does not want to catch his death of cold.

Time for a hottie and a cup of cocoa.

What are you gonna do for a face, Hunk?

When the monkey wants its bum back?

Yes, Spit. What am I gonna?

Perfect.

Oh rain, you beauty.

Let's hear your thunder!

Oh, tonight's the night, alright!

- Push your face in!

- You gollies. Push now a fly's fat.

What did you do that for?

Hey, Spit, I can't eat this now.

I got no flaming sugar.

Cut it out!

We've got work to do.

- Now?

- Yep.

We're going after Cooch Windgrass's stag.

But it's dark outside.

Yes, it often is at night.

It's a bit stormy.

Ah, shut up. Of course, it's bloody stormy. That's the bloody point.

Windgrass won't see or hear a bloody thing, will he? Not in this weather.

And when Windgrass wakes up tomorrow, we'll have his prime stag.

Gee, dad. I've never been to a stag party.

No, son. That's because you're nearly all behind.

Better get some tucker in for the old dears.

Come on, dear.

Here's your tucker.

Where are you, old fella?

Where's my stag?

You and the Dog go and get those stragglers.

Hey, Wal.

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