“Lord Nelson! Get back here right now!” The pheasant-wielding publican chatting with Fag-stain Man and the beekeeper came out from behind the bar. Setting the dead bird down alongside the beekeeper’s pint glass, he clapped his hands together sharply to get the dog’s attention. Lord Nelson, pausing from his seduction of the chair leg, stared myopically at his owner before putting forth a few more humps for good measure. Abandoning his quest for pleasure, he waddled over to Thelonious, at which point the air quality in the pub took a distinct turn for the worse. The mangy old mutt had farted.
Lord Nelson looked up at Thelonious, his thin black lips curving into a smug grin. Thelonious glared down at the dog and growled, which had no effect. Lord Nelson moved off in his own sweet time, nearl
