|"Mornin' Fred," Jake said as he joined his friend on the river bank. "Anything doin'?"
"Not a sausage." Fred had set up in a sheltered spot with a mud bank behind him, close to the road. He reached into his tackle box and pulled out a bottle of water. "Had a skinful last night."
"Nothin' new then." Jake unfolded his stool and sat down. "Social Club?"
"No, Dog and Duck. They got a new barmaid." Fred retrieved his rod, reeled in, and put fresh bait on the hook. "Somethin's had a nibble." He stood up and cast out into the reed bed.
"What ya usin'?" Jake asked as he set up his rod.
"Sweetcorn for groundbait, bread on the hook. Might change to maggot." Fred took a handful of corn and his sling shot, aimed for the reed bed.
Meanwhile, half a mile away, farmer Caine was loading up his favourite pig, Henry. "Sorry old boy, I know you've won all them ribbons, but it's time." Henry may be a pig but he knew what the farmer was saying. He gulped. Slaughter house beckoned.
"D'you know, I think it's time I gave up drinking. I'm not as young as I was and these hangovers are gettin' worse," Fred said.
Jake looked over at his long time friend. "Ye, an' pigs might fly. I tell ya' if I see a flying pig I'll give up the drink as well.
Henry didn't want to die. He kicked the side of the horsebox. It wobbled a bit but carried on its journey.
"Is that a bet?" Fred asked, holding out his hand.
"Sure is." Jake took the hand and shook.
Henry made another attempt at escape, ramming the tailgate. This coincided with a sharp bend. The momentum caused the towing Landrover to veer. It ran into a steep mud bank and the tailgate flew open. Henry was thrown clear, high over the bank, over the heads of the anglers and into the river.
"What the ..." Jake was splashed by the landing pig. As it struggled to get to the bank Fred attempted a rescue with his holding net. Farmer Cain came rushing over.
"If Henry survives this I'll take him home to live out his life on the farm."
Result: one happy pig and two teetotallers.