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Do The Funky Chicken – Rufus Thomas
I turned up at Madge’s uninvited that afternoon with a bottle of something decent that didn’t come from Mehmet’s corner shop, and a picnic basket from a posh deli that had recently opened in Dulwich Village that I’d read about in the Sunday Times colour supplement. It cost me dear, but I didn’t care. Cast your bread upon the waters was my motto that day.
‘Nick,’ she said when she answered the door. ‘What a pleasant surprise.’
‘Maybe you’d better hear what I’ve got to say before you say that.’
‘Sounds ominous.’
‘Tea and sandwiches,’ I said, handing her the basket.
We went inside, and she plonked the basket on the table and opened it. ‘What have we here?’ she said, opening the first carefully-wrapped parcel.
‘Smoked salmon, duck pate, Brie and c
