My Friend Andrew Dixon

My Friend Andrew Dixon ©

By Michael Casey

So you know you are sure you know what you are talking about? Andrew tapped his nose knowingly. What does it say on my donkey jacket? Andrew Dixon. Andrew smiled knowingly, and adjusted his horn rimmed glasses on his nose.

We were going to a huge car boot sale, Andrew assured me we’d make a killing, and his fee, he always called it a “fee”, he was posh like that, his fee was as much ale as he could hold down the Trader in Old Forge and Singing Anvil. So we tramped around a muddy field, in Old Forge and Singing Anvil, Big Sid the butcher was there doing a pig roast. This was a posh car boot sale after all.

So what do you think its worth? Andrew took his specs off and put them on again, before pausing for a moment, it was a pregnant pause, until he let out a large rasping fart. Andrew always hung out with Guiseppe from the Pizza Palour, and pepperoni was his favourite free pizza, need I say more, Andrew had his own central heating, permanently.  Give him 5, we can make 10 when we sell it on. So I gave him a handshake and gave him 3, I wasn’t made of money after all.

Andrew was full of advice, and wind, in a proportion of 5 to 2, 2 parts advice and 5 parts wind.  We always got a discount just to make us move on and not pollute the objet d’arts. So we plodded around the muddy field, stopping to get some pork from Big Sid, our Tesco plastic carrier got fuller and fuller.

How much do you think we’ll get for all this? Maybe 80 if you take it to that blind art dealer on Hope Street, or a bit more if you use adjectives. He just loves to hear adjectives. Sounds like a good idea, it’s started to rain now, let’s get to the pub, the Trader.

That donkey jacket is good, you don’t seem to be getting wet at all, and it has your name on too. Tell the truth it’s not my name at all. There was this skip outside the BBC full of them, so I grabbed this one. We could have made more money if we just stole from the skip. There was one donkey jacket with David Attenborough on the back, but it was covered in bird pooh, a really good design I think. Not unless it really was bird pooh.

So if you are not Andrew Dixon, who are you really? Sergeant Dixon is my real name, my parents had a sense of humour.  So it’s one thing hiding another, like having one Mona Lisa on top of another. Sounds like some  saucy late night film on Channel 4.