Stratford and such like......

The Olympics - a sort of explanation!

'So what's all this and that about Stratford Guv?'

Having spent 10 minutes attempting to chase Master B around the garden, I was just taking my ease and enjoying some much needed sunshine when this poser was thrown at me.

‘Now by Stratford Bingo, do you mean the home of old Will Shakespeare the Bard or, Stratford, home of the 2012 Olympics?’

‘Blimey guvnor, is there more than one Stratford?’

‘Lummy yes young B, they’re all over the blinking World….mainly to commemorate Bill the Bard.’

‘Was he good runner or something then?’

‘Well, history has not enlightened us as to his particular sporting prowess - I guess he might have been pretty fit in his youth. He mentions  Tennis balls (non-squeaking) somewhere in Henry V, but he spent most of his life in the Theatre writing and acting within a wooden ‘O’ as they were want to call it!’

‘I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about….cor you don’t ‘alf trouble a young lads brain with your words!’

‘Ah yes well it’s all part of a young chaps education…….let’s forget about that for the moment and concentrate on Stratford in East London….and the Olympics eh?’

‘Right, so what’s all the fuss about?’

‘Well, every four years, an event takes place, when all the best runners, jumpers, throwers, swimmers….not to mention rowers and….. oh I don’t know, you name it, and who ever is good at it, will be there…..’

‘Squeaky ball chasers?’

‘Um….er….well I’m not sure…..’

‘Do you mean to say there’s no Squeaky ball chasing or retrieving of any kind?’

‘Um….er….well I’m not sure……I don’t think so…….er…’

‘M’mmmm it seems to me we dogs are being discriminated against!’

I had to think fast as the lad had got quite a point.

‘I think that dogs have rather cornered the market when it comes to chasing and retrieving….’

‘Ah I see, yes well I can see the logic in that….it is something that we are past masters at……in fact we pass our masters most of the time eh? Ha-ha WOOF!’

‘As ever bingo you have hit the nail on the head.’

He immediately looked at the recently applied elastoplast on my thumb.

‘Whereas you seem to be good at hitting your thumb rather than the nail…eh?..ha! ha!’

I looked at the plaster ruefully.

‘Sorry old huff ‘n’ puffer, I shouldn’t make a joke…..but cor lummy, you didn’t half hop about the other day when you did it!’

The picture of that moment came to mind.  Frankly, I thought a brief moment of hopping whilst hugging the afflicted left thumb under my right arm pit, better than the usual oaths and expletives that Shakespeare would most certainly have understood…..but - not a young impressionable hound like Bingo!




(So - that was the Olympics it seems.)