British Pie Week featuring Patsy Popkin’s Pies

As you are probably all aware, this week is British Pie Week, you can’t open a website or flick through a supplement without coming across a recipe for a wholesome looking pie with a golden crust.  Personally you would never catch me eating a pie, or any other kind of hidden food. I think people who eat pies are trusting to the point of naivety, and don’t get me started on those who are willing to take their chances with a vol au vent.

In celebration of this particular week Gary and Harry have invited the woman who owns the Pie Shop in the High Street to display her wares in the Spar, Patsy Popkins’ Pies.

She does the usual range, chicken and mushroom, turkey and ham and the like, but for this particular week she has cooked up a novelty choice, Cheek and Leek, Eel and Squeal, Pig and Fig or even Lamb, Ham and Jam; to my way of thinking she is far too focussed on pork. Mind you, I think her time would be better spent sourcing a new tool for her pie edging, at best it looks like she’s sealing them with a broken Lego brick and at worse, her own front teeth.

Tom, who had taken his usual 11 to noon position on the stool in the Spar would normally be excited at this little event, I know he is particularly taken with a pie and also has rather a glad eye for Patsy Popkins, however this week he seems to have the world on his shoulders.
The cause of Tom’s current state is a little black and white cat that turned up one morning and snuck into the house while he was putting the bins out. Nobody was quite sure where the cat had come from but it has taken over Tom’s life.

‘The blighter won’t go, look at these scars’, he held up his arm for Catherine to examine and from what I could see they did seem rather severe.

‘Have you been manhandling it? I know what my own pussy is like if it’s being pestered’ I was pleased to see that Catherine looked a bit sheepish, she clearly realised she’d just entered the realms of a 1970’s sitcom. 

This all went above Tom’s head as he opened his mouth as if to voice an expletive or two, he seemed to remember that he was talking to Catherine and instead just started to rant. ‘Manhandling it, I should get the chance, I can’t get near it. These scars are from when I approached it after it helped itself to lunch, do you know how many goldfish I’ve lost? I mean, I know that tank wasn’t the Ritz or anything but they did have a plastic mermaid, and I’m sure it was better than inside some greedy cat’s stomach. I hope they make it sick’.

Well they do say be careful what you wish for and the next day Tom did in fact report to Gary that the cat had been sick in the porch, just shy of Toms shoes, he was getting desperate.

‘It’s been three days, I dread to think where it’s been doing its business, why won’t it go? I can’t sleep, it hides under the bed and purrs, when I eat it watches my every mouthful. Then every so often it just stares into another room, as if someone else is in the house, I’m terrified. It hisses and spits if I try to go near it, it’s like having a dictator in the house, it’s like, like...Pussolini.

Whilst Gary hid a smile, Tom hung his head, he was clearly at the end of his tether. At that moment Patsy Popkins turned up with her latest delivery and seemed disappointed not to get the usual flirty attitude from Tom.

‘I’ve bought some cow and sow today Gary, they’ve been a big hit in the High Street.’

Tom glanced up, ‘Can you do anything with a cat?’ Patsy looked confused. ‘In a pie I mean, if you catch it you can have it, I’ll even pay for the pastry’.

Clearly an animal lover Patsy left the Spar before she could hear any more. Tom also got up to leave but not before Gary gave him a free tin of cat food, suggesting the need for a truce.

Later that day Reg turned up at the Spar with a piece of paper in a plastic wallet, according to Gary he looked like he had been crying and was very emotional when he asked if he could put a poster in the window. Seeing the word ‘LOST’ across the top of the page and a picture of a black and white cat, Gary obviously forgot it was Reg he was talking to when he offered the following information, ‘Blimey, is that the cat that’s been terrorising Tom ? He was offering it as ingredients for a pie earlier – Pussolini pie’.

Needless to say Reg did not see any humour in this comment and hot footed it to Tom’s house. I could see the door barely open before his pudgy fingers were around Tom’s neck, thank goodness at that point the black and white cat appeared from the kitchen, another goldfish hanging from its mouth. Reg dropped Tom and spread out his arms, ‘Snooky, come to daddy’.

I could see Tom with an incredulous look on his face quickly closing the door behind Reg, who was smothering Snooky with kisses.