For I'm going to fart the chorus when they play God Save the King
— J. Hepworth
Up to the Blyton bottle-o yesterday to get something special for St Pat's Night.
Little Trev MacManus was selling his own half kegs of green Guinness — with two free pint glasses.
I asked him what made it green but he was coy.
Just pointed to a couple of wormwood trees growing out the back.
How could I resist?
Brought it home and tapped it.
Tasted a bit odd but not too bad.
Into the third pint, I saw a strange little figure sitting on a rock in my garden under the gum tree I grew from weed.
He was bathed in an eerie green light, just as the sun was setting.
He didn't speak but obviously had magical powers as he made the G9 Canon go all wobbly when I tried to photograph him through the flyscreen.
One click of the shutter and he was gone like a shot off a shovel — just like Our Kylie in Moulin Rouge.
The resultant pic was all washed out but, this morning, not in my best of form I admit, I partially rescued it.
This was the best I could manage:
