Have They Twigged..?

Gordon Badger is a nice enough chap. For many years, he had been the owner of a very orderly home, which he had managed well with due prudence. But when his best friend moved on to pastures new, he left Gordon his sett and implored him to maintain it the best he could, lest it may fall into ruin if further abused. Gordon had been well respected and the owner of a stain-free reputation. But upon finding himself lumbered with a neglected sett that demanded all of his expertise to salvage, he was forced to risk it all. Poor Mr Badger owed it to his friend to make the best he could of a bad situation and so instigated a rebuilding program that he hoped would save the condemned sett. But he ran into a few unexpected difficulties.

Mr Badger had three sons. They used to be very happy together, living in Gordon’s sett made of money at number one Economy Drive (the R of Drive has been missing for a few months, but the street can still be found by taking the first left after Shit Creek). But since they left their old home behind, that too crumbled and collapsed. It has become an international laughing stock. The kids daren’t show their faces at school.

One day the three lads; Peter, Alastair and David, turned up at their father’s ramshackle sett in a blazing mood. They weren’t talking to each other.

Peter Badger banged on the door until Gordon answered.

“Hello, boys,” smiled Mr Badger, looking his three fine sons up and down with his one good eye.
“Whatever’s the matter?”

“We’re fed up, dad,” grumbled Alastair. “All the other kids at school have been taking the piss; saying that it’s because I fluffed the books that our house fell down.”

“Yeah,” said David, the youngest and most ridiculous-looking of the three, “I’ve been trying really hard in Modern Languages, but the other kids say that our house fell down because I’m crap at Polish and couldn’t control the builders.”

“And what’s wrong with you, Peter?” asked Gordon in a crestfallen tone.

“I think you’re doing a shit job running the show and that I should take over. I’m well fit, after all.”

“Yes, Peter, fit you are, but I have experience. I have been around for a long time.”

“Listen, dad,” snapped Peter,” I don’t mean to be funny, but if you’re talking about that ten-year stint as a glove-puppet, it hardly amounts to the same thing now, does it?”

“But don’t you see, Peter,” Gordon pleaded with his eldest. “It isn’t just me. We are a team. Truth be told, we’ve all been a bit shite, but we can turn it around if we stick together. Look, I’ll prove it to you.”

Willing to give the old man another go, Peter, Alastair and David obeyed their father’s orders to go into the woods and fetch as many twigs as they could. They returned an hour later having done a shoddy job.

“Now, boys, I want each of you to take a twig and break it across your knee.” The boys did this with success.

“Very good… Now, Alastair, hand me that twine.” Mr Badger set about tying all the twigs together with the twine until he had a faggot that was as thick as Tolstoy. “Now do the same with this faggot,” he said. All three tried and failed. “You see, boys: united we stand, divided we fall.” They kissed wetly.


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