I went for a pint last night for the first time in a while.

I got chatting to Mick who is one of the barmen. He pulls great pints and is an affable sort of bloke.

“I haven’t seen yourself and Ron in here lately.” says he. “I heard you shot him?”

“Yeah. It was an accident. But he doesn’t see it that way”

“Ah! Some people are like that. They take things personally. Have you seen him since?”

“No. He sent me a letter bomb a few weeks ago, which was messy. It blew up a builder.”

“There’s no call for that,” says Mick “it’s hard when people bear a grudge.”

“Then a few days later he took a shot at me outside the coffee shop.”

“So that’s who shot Sargent Murphy? We wondered who that was.”

“Yup, it was Ron. I feel sorry for Murphy, but they say he can still have children if he tries hard.”

“You haven’t seen Ron since then?”

“Not since last week, when he dropped a concrete block onto me from a bridge on the M50”

“Nasty. Did he get you?”

“Nah! I saw him in time and swerved. He got one of those Smart cars that was behind me.”

“God, but they’re ugly yokes, those Smart cars. Did he do much damage?”

“Let’s just say that the designers thought that they were smart, but they weren’t smart enough to design their car to take a nine inch concrete block dropped from a bridge.”

“Ouch! Messy?”

“Messy is not the word. Give us another pint will ya?”

I’ll miss Ron. He was such a placid bloke.