Fiddler on the Make by Peter Kerr

By Peter Kerr

Lighthearted comedy set in Scotland

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Squeaked Tabetha. ’ ‘Not if they’re happy, free-range ones,’ said Jigger, smiling reassuringly. ‘My cock is at it all day long,’ he continued, with but the slightest arching of a suggestive eyebrow. ’ Tabetha blushed again, violently this time, then fumbled the bottom button right off her cardigan. Jigger was enjoying himself. While he placed eggs into a cosily-traditional papier-mâché tray for the visibly trembling Tabetha Spriggs, he reflected on just what a nice little earner this free-range, brown egg caper had grown into.

Ree-ee-lee? Giblets? ’ Jigger’s frantic foot finally found the cassette machine. ’ He gave the offending apparatus a surreptitious boot, and was relieved to hear normal service being resumed over the Tannoy. ’ A look of transparent wonderment spread over Tabetha’s face. Somewhere in there an idea was trying hard to form, Jigger suspected. ‘That sound,’ she ventured timidly, ‘that funny crowing sound sounded a bit like a snarled up tape re –’ ‘That sound,’ Jigger dominatingly declared, while leaning over the counter and fixing the 34 cowering Tabetha in a Connery-eyebrowed stare, ‘that funny crowing sound, sounded just like cockadoodliosis.

Because you’re a married woman. But…’ ‘Yes? ’ she whispered. ’ Tabetha’s breath was coming in short pants now, like a procession of 1970s marathon runners, Jigger mused. ’ He didn’t wait for the overwhelmed Tabetha to answer. ‘Because Mrs Tabetha Spriggs, when I cast my eyes upon you…’ He paused, allowing his eyebrows to raise themselves into a ceremonial arch and his mouth to arrange itself into a full-blown, bottom-lip-only 007 pout. ’ Cringe-makingly corny as Jigger’s patter had been, Tabetha dissolved into coy flutterings of excitement.

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