when is a haggis not a haggis ?
"A most unusual choice of names for the twins, Sergeant"
The Chief Constable of West Grampian placed his meaty arm around Cowie's shoulder.
"My own wife wanted to call our son Bjorn, but I put the kybosh on that pdq "
"Would that be tennis Bjorn or popstar Bjorn, Sir ?" enquired Cowie of his boss.
"Tennis; I was worried that his eyes would end up too close together..... we settled on Boris instead"
"But twins are a different kettle of fish altogether, ye ken, Sir"
"Esmeralda insisted that the names should be linked together by a theme..... although I have not yet managed to find the link between Langoustine and Homard. However they sound pleasant enough and I am not going to rock the boat"
"My wife was saying only yesterday how much she liked the sound of the twins' names;
we could perhaps put out feelers to find their origin ? "
"That would be most kind Sir.... my own thought is that they are perhaps from Greek mythology; Homard certainly sounds Greek "
The Chief nodded.
"It may be a good thing for them to have unusual names: twins tend to stand out at school anyway. My own parents called me Brightwater, Cowie"
"That has a certain ring to it, Sir"
"In the last book the readers never found out your first name, Cowie...."
"Well it begins with a vowel , and it ends with a vowal.... in fact it is Avowal"
"I wondered if perhaps it is of Quaker origin ? It has that kind of Puritan sound"
"No, Sir; my parents were watching Countdown when I was conceived "
"Esmeralda insisted that the names should be linked together by a theme..... although I have not yet managed to find the link between Langoustine and Homard. However they sound pleasant enough and I am not going to rock the boat"
"My wife was saying only yesterday how much she liked the sound of the twins' names;
we could perhaps put out feelers to find their origin ? "
"That would be most kind Sir.... my own thought is that they are perhaps from Greek mythology; Homard certainly sounds Greek "
The Chief nodded.
"It may be a good thing for them to have unusual names: twins tend to stand out at school anyway. My own parents called me Brightwater, Cowie"
"That has a certain ring to it, Sir"
"In the last book the readers never found out your first name, Cowie...."
"Well it begins with a vowel , and it ends with a vowal.... in fact it is Avowal"
"I wondered if perhaps it is of Quaker origin ? It has that kind of Puritan sound"
"No, Sir; my parents were watching Countdown when I was conceived "
"Well Cowie I have news that will no doubt be welcome to you and Esmeralda;
your promotion to Rural Inspector has been approved with immediate effect:
Your first posting in this rank is as deputy Commander of CID here in Ballochbridge. Congratulations Inspector !!"
"I am deeply thrilled and honoured to be joining the CID team Sir. I look forward to serving under Chief Rural Inspector Prendergast " Cowie lied. He would rather eat a pig's afterbirth marinaded in weasel vomit than work for Grizelda Prendergast again.
"And Esmeralda is looking forward to the challenge of providing Cornish-stylee fodder to our fellow Scots " This was not entirely untrue, but Esmeralda would much rather have stayed in the South West Peninsula than uprooting to the Flintshire Riviera.
"Good man, Cowie, I knew that you would not let us down.... has Mrs Cowie considered adding Haggis to the menu ? Perhaps Haggis flavoured pasties or vice-versa ?"
"An excellent suggestion Sir..... I will put it to her this very evening !"
"That's the spirit Cowie: now; there is no time to lose; the press are breathing down my neck over this Poodle business"
your promotion to Rural Inspector has been approved with immediate effect:
Your first posting in this rank is as deputy Commander of CID here in Ballochbridge. Congratulations Inspector !!"
"I am deeply thrilled and honoured to be joining the CID team Sir. I look forward to serving under Chief Rural Inspector Prendergast " Cowie lied. He would rather eat a pig's afterbirth marinaded in weasel vomit than work for Grizelda Prendergast again.
"And Esmeralda is looking forward to the challenge of providing Cornish-stylee fodder to our fellow Scots " This was not entirely untrue, but Esmeralda would much rather have stayed in the South West Peninsula than uprooting to the Flintshire Riviera.
"Good man, Cowie, I knew that you would not let us down.... has Mrs Cowie considered adding Haggis to the menu ? Perhaps Haggis flavoured pasties or vice-versa ?"
"An excellent suggestion Sir..... I will put it to her this very evening !"
"That's the spirit Cowie: now; there is no time to lose; the press are breathing down my neck over this Poodle business"
In the last six months the normally tranquil township of Ballochbridge had been perturbed by a mysterious spate of Poodle thefts.
Unlike in other Hibernian pet crimes the victims were well treated and returned unharmed; unharmed that is apart from having all their fur shaved off.
The Ballochbridge CID were involved from the start.... the first victim was Prendergast's own poodle !! The poor bitch ( the pet, not the owner ) was found wandering on the links near the seventh hole by a startled golfer in September. The Poodle's collar was still attached and Sigourney was rapidly reunited with a tearful Chief Inspector Prendergast.
Since that fateful day no fewer than eight local Poodles had undergone the same ordeal.
In each case the fur seemed to have been removed by an expert; the Poodles were left bewildered and chilly but otherwise unharmed.
Fortunately none of the kidnappees had succumbed to the freezing weather during the severe winter.
The Chief vowed to support Prendergast in the hunt for the fiend whom the press were calling "Jock the Clipper"
Since that fateful day no fewer than eight local Poodles had undergone the same ordeal.
In each case the fur seemed to have been removed by an expert; the Poodles were left bewildered and chilly but otherwise unharmed.
Fortunately none of the kidnappees had succumbed to the freezing weather during the severe winter.
The Chief vowed to support Prendergast in the hunt for the fiend whom the press were calling "Jock the Clipper"
Gossip spread quickly in the small community. There were plenty of scores to settle; and no-one was surprised when the local barber Jock McFadyen was fingered by several of his customers.
The Chief was willing to overlook such behaviour ~ live & let live was his motto.
However Prendergast called in the Sweeney & McFadyen's modest flat was taken apart, and his collection of modified Barbie & Ken dolls was seized.
Although Prendergast had not been a fan of Barbie during her miserable childhood she was sure that the Procurator Fiscal would find some charges arising from McFadyen's unusual hobby; nevertheless there was nothing at all to suggest a link to the Poodles.
The upshot of McFadyen's arrest and subsequent imprisonment was that the menfolk of Ballochbridge had to travel to the next town, Fort Catherine, for their short back & sides.
Ballochbridge boasted a ladies' hairdresser, Wee Jeannie Dalgleish. She was willing to step into Jock McFadyen's shoes, metaphorically speaking, but since the incident of Big Gordie McFrost's mullet none of the men were willing to entrust their barnets to her.
Big Gordie was the long-standing caber throwing champion but had unwisely booked
WJD to do his hair for the previous Winter Games.
When the crowd caught sight of the Mullet they laughed Gordie out of the arena before he could complete his first toss.
The Chief was willing to overlook such behaviour ~ live & let live was his motto.
However Prendergast called in the Sweeney & McFadyen's modest flat was taken apart, and his collection of modified Barbie & Ken dolls was seized.
Although Prendergast had not been a fan of Barbie during her miserable childhood she was sure that the Procurator Fiscal would find some charges arising from McFadyen's unusual hobby; nevertheless there was nothing at all to suggest a link to the Poodles.
The upshot of McFadyen's arrest and subsequent imprisonment was that the menfolk of Ballochbridge had to travel to the next town, Fort Catherine, for their short back & sides.
Ballochbridge boasted a ladies' hairdresser, Wee Jeannie Dalgleish. She was willing to step into Jock McFadyen's shoes, metaphorically speaking, but since the incident of Big Gordie McFrost's mullet none of the men were willing to entrust their barnets to her.
Big Gordie was the long-standing caber throwing champion but had unwisely booked
WJD to do his hair for the previous Winter Games.
When the crowd caught sight of the Mullet they laughed Gordie out of the arena before he could complete his first toss.
A few days later Cowie sat at home musing over recent developments.
His modest grey granite house overlooked the links on the outskirts of Ballochbridge. Even at this late hour one or two hardy golfers were visible in the distance.
The granite was one of those plagioclase-rich fine grained Oligocene jobs, typical of the West Grampian Orogeny.
The twins were fast asleep in the converted mackerel box which Esmeralda had brought back from Cornwall. It was a bit whiffy but the offspring did not seem to mind.
She had also brought back an ancient disco ball which had belonged to her late father.
The tiny flecks of hornblende in the granite walls reflected the multi-colored beams of light which flickered across the room from the rotating ball.
Esmeralda insisted that it was her last remaining link to her pater, a notorious lothario who had vanished shortly before her tenth birthday. It was widely assumed by the locals that he had overstepped the mark with the pretty young wife of Kevin "Two Trawlers" Penhaligon... at all events his body was found weeks later washed up on Arrow Beach by some surfers. It was not possible to determine the cause of death and Kevin was never arrested.
Esmeralda was not at all upset when Kevin was blown to pieces whilst trying to sabotage "Claws 28", the lobster boat of his rival Dave "The Lobster" Polkinghorne.
Opinion was divided as to whether the explosives detonated accidentally or whether Dave had tampered with them whilst they lay hidden in Kevin's binnacle.
The tragic chain of events had culminated recently with Dave's disappearance; this is dealt with thoroughly in the companion book to this; "The Pasty is Another Country".
Esmeralda hoped that moving so far from Cornwall would enable her to put the past behind her and start afresh with Cowie and the twins.
Whenever someone brought Dave up again it left a bad taste in Esmeralda's mouth.
His modest grey granite house overlooked the links on the outskirts of Ballochbridge. Even at this late hour one or two hardy golfers were visible in the distance.
The granite was one of those plagioclase-rich fine grained Oligocene jobs, typical of the West Grampian Orogeny.
The twins were fast asleep in the converted mackerel box which Esmeralda had brought back from Cornwall. It was a bit whiffy but the offspring did not seem to mind.
She had also brought back an ancient disco ball which had belonged to her late father.
The tiny flecks of hornblende in the granite walls reflected the multi-colored beams of light which flickered across the room from the rotating ball.
Esmeralda insisted that it was her last remaining link to her pater, a notorious lothario who had vanished shortly before her tenth birthday. It was widely assumed by the locals that he had overstepped the mark with the pretty young wife of Kevin "Two Trawlers" Penhaligon... at all events his body was found weeks later washed up on Arrow Beach by some surfers. It was not possible to determine the cause of death and Kevin was never arrested.
Esmeralda was not at all upset when Kevin was blown to pieces whilst trying to sabotage "Claws 28", the lobster boat of his rival Dave "The Lobster" Polkinghorne.
Opinion was divided as to whether the explosives detonated accidentally or whether Dave had tampered with them whilst they lay hidden in Kevin's binnacle.
The tragic chain of events had culminated recently with Dave's disappearance; this is dealt with thoroughly in the companion book to this; "The Pasty is Another Country".
Esmeralda hoped that moving so far from Cornwall would enable her to put the past behind her and start afresh with Cowie and the twins.
Whenever someone brought Dave up again it left a bad taste in Esmeralda's mouth.
Esmeralda slipped quietly into the romper room without attracting her husband's attention.
She watched fascinated as the gaudy beams of disco light illuminated Cowie's bald patch in a succession of vermilion, orange, violet and citron spangles.
Her attempts to persuade him to visit a wigmaker in Edinbugh had failed; a violent incident involving a crazed wig-toting gunwoman, ( or was it a gun-toting wigwoman ? ) had put him off syrups for life...see "The Pasty is Another Country" for a full account.
Now she ( Esmeralda, not the gunwoman ) was seriously considering hair transplants. It was all the rage with follically challenged soccerball men, crooners and TV presenters.
As luck would have it a clinic specialising in this treatment for slapheads had opened the previous Autumn in Fort Catherine, a mere 20 minutes' drive away.
The owner and chief transplanter, Dr Ironside, had relocated from Harley Street where he had restored the bonces of many well-known celebrities.
He claimed that the move from London to the picturesque Flintshire coast was to "return to his roots" as he was fond of saying to his new pals at the golf club.
The members were happy to accept his explanation at face value; he was very generous with the drinks at the 19th hole, and had already restored several of the committee members' thinning locks to their youthful abundance, at a substantial discount moreover.
The eminent tonsorialist and his wife soon became an integral part of the local golf club and its associated Masonic Lodge. There they rubbed shoulders with many of the local police big- and medium-wigs, including Cowie and the Chief.
Mrs Ironside was able to develop a flourishing mobile dog-grooming business with the help of Morwenna Prendergast, the teenage daughter of Cowie's new superior.
Their distinctive converted Post Office van became a familiar sight along the Flintshire Riviera, picking up scruffy pooches and returning them transformed into well-groomed paragons of doggy loveliness an hour later to their delighted owners.
Morwenna was largely hidden from view of the customers; Mrs Ironside felt that her ( Morwenna's ) extensive body art would not be good for business. Partly because of the very extensive nature of her tattoos and piercings but mainly because they had been performed by her boyfriend Gaz using materials pilfered from his job at Staples.
The dogs did not seem to mind Morwenna's bizarre appearance and business did not suffer as long as Morwenna remained in the back of the van.
The grooming fees depended on the size and type of dog; however Poodle owners were always given a special discount.
She watched fascinated as the gaudy beams of disco light illuminated Cowie's bald patch in a succession of vermilion, orange, violet and citron spangles.
Her attempts to persuade him to visit a wigmaker in Edinbugh had failed; a violent incident involving a crazed wig-toting gunwoman, ( or was it a gun-toting wigwoman ? ) had put him off syrups for life...see "The Pasty is Another Country" for a full account.
Now she ( Esmeralda, not the gunwoman ) was seriously considering hair transplants. It was all the rage with follically challenged soccerball men, crooners and TV presenters.
As luck would have it a clinic specialising in this treatment for slapheads had opened the previous Autumn in Fort Catherine, a mere 20 minutes' drive away.
The owner and chief transplanter, Dr Ironside, had relocated from Harley Street where he had restored the bonces of many well-known celebrities.
He claimed that the move from London to the picturesque Flintshire coast was to "return to his roots" as he was fond of saying to his new pals at the golf club.
The members were happy to accept his explanation at face value; he was very generous with the drinks at the 19th hole, and had already restored several of the committee members' thinning locks to their youthful abundance, at a substantial discount moreover.
The eminent tonsorialist and his wife soon became an integral part of the local golf club and its associated Masonic Lodge. There they rubbed shoulders with many of the local police big- and medium-wigs, including Cowie and the Chief.
Mrs Ironside was able to develop a flourishing mobile dog-grooming business with the help of Morwenna Prendergast, the teenage daughter of Cowie's new superior.
Their distinctive converted Post Office van became a familiar sight along the Flintshire Riviera, picking up scruffy pooches and returning them transformed into well-groomed paragons of doggy loveliness an hour later to their delighted owners.
Morwenna was largely hidden from view of the customers; Mrs Ironside felt that her ( Morwenna's ) extensive body art would not be good for business. Partly because of the very extensive nature of her tattoos and piercings but mainly because they had been performed by her boyfriend Gaz using materials pilfered from his job at Staples.
The dogs did not seem to mind Morwenna's bizarre appearance and business did not suffer as long as Morwenna remained in the back of the van.
The grooming fees depended on the size and type of dog; however Poodle owners were always given a special discount.
Esmeralda's business was also flourishing. Cowie had convinced her that Ballochbridge was remarkably similar to the Cornish fishing village she had left recently....
i) a similar geological structure to the underlying rocks; also similar elevated levels of alpha radiation typical of massive granite intrusions
ii) an inward-looking population with a restricted gene pool
iii) a barely understandable local dialect
iv) a great enthusiasm for carbohydrate-based snacks, albeit cooked in the deep-fried mode, which Esmeralda was only just beginning to master
Esmeralda had decided to call her new restaurant "Gurneys" which offered her customers "food to die for"; her advertising flyers claimed "You will be shocked by our low prices" and suggested that "You Must be Off Your Trolley to eat elsewhere"
Cowie thought that the capital punishment theme was in poor taste but the locals loved it, and Esmeralda installed a genuine electric chair for her customers to sit in while they waited to be served.
i) a similar geological structure to the underlying rocks; also similar elevated levels of alpha radiation typical of massive granite intrusions
ii) an inward-looking population with a restricted gene pool
iii) a barely understandable local dialect
iv) a great enthusiasm for carbohydrate-based snacks, albeit cooked in the deep-fried mode, which Esmeralda was only just beginning to master
Esmeralda had decided to call her new restaurant "Gurneys" which offered her customers "food to die for"; her advertising flyers claimed "You will be shocked by our low prices" and suggested that "You Must be Off Your Trolley to eat elsewhere"
Cowie thought that the capital punishment theme was in poor taste but the locals loved it, and Esmeralda installed a genuine electric chair for her customers to sit in while they waited to be served.
Morwenna and Gaz were amongst her best customers.
There was also a strong Cornish theme; on Thursday and Sunday customers could "Eat like a Trawlerman" for £10.
The most successful item on the menu was the Paggis... a genuine Pasty case filled with Haggis meat produced to Esmeralda's secret recipe.
Some customers preferred them deep fried, but most found that this destroyed the unusual tang in the meat filling.
There was also a strong Cornish theme; on Thursday and Sunday customers could "Eat like a Trawlerman" for £10.
The most successful item on the menu was the Paggis... a genuine Pasty case filled with Haggis meat produced to Esmeralda's secret recipe.
Some customers preferred them deep fried, but most found that this destroyed the unusual tang in the meat filling.
Cowie was pleased when Esmeralda announced that she was planning a trip to Cornwall with the twins, to coincide with his first hair-transplant session which she had arranged as an Anniversary present.
He had seen the results on several of his colleagues & was very impressed by Dr Ironside's skill.
The CID team were easily able to cope with his absence; the Poodle case was progressing very slowly.
Esmeralda hired a refrigerated van for the trip to Cornwall, explaining to her husband that she was running low on ingredients which were unobtainable locally.
He had seen the results on several of his colleagues & was very impressed by Dr Ironside's skill.
The CID team were easily able to cope with his absence; the Poodle case was progressing very slowly.
Esmeralda hired a refrigerated van for the trip to Cornwall, explaining to her husband that she was running low on ingredients which were unobtainable locally.
When Esmeralda returned a week later she was delighted with the results of the transplant operation; it had been worth every penny of the £5000 she had blackmailed from her ex-fiance Roger Horniman.
Cowie glanced up affectionately from the Ballochbridge Argus. Esmeralda gently patted his dense mat of black curls, then carefully patted his head.
"Does the name Luke Penhaligon ring a bell, sweetest thing ?" asked Cowie, waving the paper in her direction.
"That sounds like a Cornish name... is he a golfer ?" replied Esmeralda nonchalantly.
"Yes and no darling.... this young man has disappeared from your village in the last week; in fact whilst you were there. Indeed I met him when I presented the prizes at your sports day".
"Of course cupcake, you mean Spooky Lukie; we never called him Luke in the village. It is very sad that yet another of our menfolk has disappeared under mysterious circumstances...his mother must be devastated"
"It says in the paper that the local CID have carried out extensive searches of the harbour and beaches as well as combing the bleak but not unwelcoming moorland above the village.
"Luke went missing after spending the afternoon at the home of his art teacher, Miss Gotobed. She had been posing for some sketches. Apparently Luke was a promising artist and Miss Gotobed was keen to encourage his talent.
"It says that several artworks have been seized as evidence" Cowie finished his summary of the newspaper report and turned his attention to the tray of dinner which Esmeralda had lain in front of him... the centrepiece was a steaming Paggis.
"Well I'm sure that the CID have plenty to get their teeth into" Esmeralda replied over her shoulder as she headed off in the direction of the restaurant. There was so much to do in the cold room.
Cowie glanced up affectionately from the Ballochbridge Argus. Esmeralda gently patted his dense mat of black curls, then carefully patted his head.
"Does the name Luke Penhaligon ring a bell, sweetest thing ?" asked Cowie, waving the paper in her direction.
"That sounds like a Cornish name... is he a golfer ?" replied Esmeralda nonchalantly.
"Yes and no darling.... this young man has disappeared from your village in the last week; in fact whilst you were there. Indeed I met him when I presented the prizes at your sports day".
"Of course cupcake, you mean Spooky Lukie; we never called him Luke in the village. It is very sad that yet another of our menfolk has disappeared under mysterious circumstances...his mother must be devastated"
"It says in the paper that the local CID have carried out extensive searches of the harbour and beaches as well as combing the bleak but not unwelcoming moorland above the village.
"Luke went missing after spending the afternoon at the home of his art teacher, Miss Gotobed. She had been posing for some sketches. Apparently Luke was a promising artist and Miss Gotobed was keen to encourage his talent.
"It says that several artworks have been seized as evidence" Cowie finished his summary of the newspaper report and turned his attention to the tray of dinner which Esmeralda had lain in front of him... the centrepiece was a steaming Paggis.
"Well I'm sure that the CID have plenty to get their teeth into" Esmeralda replied over her shoulder as she headed off in the direction of the restaurant. There was so much to do in the cold room.
Cowie accepted her absence; that was the price of being married to a successful businesswoman.
He would have to take up a hobby, perhaps golf. He casually ran his fingers through the thickening glossy black locks which Dr Ironside had installed on his cranium.
Maybe a dog would be a better idea.... perhaps a Poodle ?
THE END
PS see http://thepastyisanothercountry.blogspot.com for the first volume
