Just when you all thought it was safe............

‘May I help you Bing?’

The replying voice is muffled.

‘Wassat?’

‘I was wondering, oh hound with the hooter of renown, whether I might be of assistance.’

I hear what sounds like a ‘tup’ and see what looks like a shrug.  Moments later a head emerges from the study waste paper basket and blinks at the bright light; rather like one of those potholing types regaining the surface once again.

‘Have you found anything of interest down there?’



‘Not yet guv, not yet.’

The carpet around the ‘entrance’ is strewn with balls of paper, a cellotape box and empty polo packet.

‘Don’t worry gaffer I’ll pop ‘em back when I’m finished.’

‘I admire your wit Bing, for as yet I have never seen you ‘pop’ anything back to where you first found it.’

A frown settles on the lads forehead….is he thinking or just disappointed with my statement?

It clears and he smiles.



‘One hardly likes to be the bearer of bad news and such, but, since you spend much of your day looking for items you apparently have mislaid because they’re not where they should be, a few items actually beside the receptacle they belong in, is hardly in your area of expertise when it comes to lost without trace.’

That pause after ‘lost with out trace’ is as cutting as it could be…………………….the truth hurts. (Ouch!)

‘M’mmm.’

‘M’mmm indeed old poop.’

I attempt (attempt being a forlorn hope.) to regain some self respect, by gazing into the offending bin and sniffing a few times.

‘No scent in there guv.’

‘Really Bing?  Then why were you…….’

‘Oh it’s just a need we hounds have, that’s all. It’s hard to believe I know, but even WE can make slight miscalculations as to where a decent ‘wiff’ is coming from.’

‘Really Bing?’

Actually no guv, I’d hoped that might make you feel a little less sad at your own poor excuse for a scent seeker.’

‘Oh.’

‘Actually, I happened to be passing by when I realized there was a minty pong coming from the bin.’

‘The old Polo wrapper?’

‘Precisely old fruit.’

‘Golly I would hardly call that a minty pong Bing.’

‘Well there you are. See, to the uneducated conk it’s nothing, but to the finely tuned hooter of this ‘ere hound, it’s as if the room is full of mints!’

‘Well I’ll be jiggered.’





‘Can you smell coffee on the go guv?’

‘Well no….is there?’

‘Nope, but there could be if you got a move on and thought snacks and such.’

‘I see.’

‘Yep….but you don’t smell!’

‘Right-ho.’

But this is addressed to a wagging tail trundling off to the kitchen. And as ever when it comes to the lad….I follow in his wake.






(Yes you're right....nothing changes.  well not here anyway.)