Black Boy (Winchester)

Garfield (Garfield the Movie)

Jesus Christ, what a town. When I moved over from Brooklyn, New Yoik, I never expected it to be like this.

I mean I know there’s a recession on, but normal practice in normal joints is for stores to offer a discount on kitty litter – or 6 for 4 on tins of Pedigree Chum. But check this out out.
A quarter off the cost of cutting my nuts off at the local vet store?

Un-freaking-believable!

As soon as I heard about this discounted butchery, I was straight on the phone to my main man Digby; that’s Digby the biggest Dog in the World, not Digby Jones, former head honcho at the CBI and lord of the freaking realm.

See, the canine Digby lives close by in Hampshire and, like my owner Jon, his people have a vested interest in taking advantage of the 25%-off obscenity.

In my case, Jon’s been threatening to “take a chopper to the gonads” for years. It’s on account of the fact that he has to deal with the aftermath of my nights on the tiles, scoring with every pussy from Basingstoke to Southampton. I reckons it’s part of the deal with a sharp looking Tom cat, but Jon won’t get with the programme.

But Digby’s situation is different. He certainly ain’t no ladies’ man (not with all that facial hair). But think about it for a moment. Ordinarily you’d need a mortgage to get a vet to take a scalpel to his gigantic knackers. 25% off, well that’s one major incentive.

Hence the reason we’re both lying low. Or at least as low as it’s possible to lie for a film-star cat and a dog that’s the size of a ten-story block.

We’ve come to the Black Boy, a little out of the centre of town; not that we’d get into the main bar. It’s all low ceilings and wooden beams. Very nice for re-arming the old claws, but my shaggy pal wouldn't get his dripping nose past the front door. Let alone his gargantuan frame.

Nah, we’re sitting out back - in the corner of the garden, where it’s nice and dark, with enough space for the big fella to feel inconspicuous.

It’s decked-out like a medieval joust, albeit staffed by 17th century celeb look-a-likes. That's on accounts of the fact that the landlord has taken to dressing like Guy Fawkes (complete with facial hair).

That’s no criticism, by the ways. This joint is a rarity in this God-damn town of dives. To find a pub with character in Winchester, you gotta head for the outskirts It’s the only place you’ll find any humanity.

Humanity? Medieval? Yeah, well there’s a juxtaposition of words that sums up yous monkeys approach to life. Truth be told you're still in the middle ages. Instead of burning cats you're cutting their knackers off.

Discounted today, by 25%!

Mind you * sniggers a little * before I left this evening, I did a bad thing. I left a copy of the flyer with Jon, just in case he decides to give Odie the old ‘here today, gone tomorrow’ treatment.

It'd serve him right. The dirty little f*cker's always licking his privates when I’m trying to watch Animals do the Funniest Things.

Garfield’s rating for the Black Boy – 9 / 10

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