Low life
Dog's life
Jeffrey Bernard
You probably missed it, right at the bottom of .a column on the back page, so I'll give it to you in full.
BIONIC LEG FOR POODLE
Ubu, a six-year-old poodle, suffered so badly after falling off a bar stool and rupturing his Achilles tendon, that it was feared he would have to be put down. Now orthopaedic surgeons at the Royal Veterinary College, in Hertfordshire, have threaded carbon fibre through Ubu's leg. However, Ubu, owned by Mr John Hurles, of Ringwood, Hants, will have to have another operation, as his repaired leg it too powerful for the other three.
Firstly, let's get one minor matter quite clear. The operation that the wretched Ubu underwent is nothing new. As a matter of fact, one of my neighbours, a steeplechaser called Sidney Carton, has had two such operations and has since won and been placed second. That is beside the point. What interests me about the poodle, Ubu, is how much he had had to drink before he fell of the bar stool and just what he had been drinking. Furthermore, if Ubu was drunk, and it sounds likely, was he allowed to drive Mr Hurles home or did Mr Hurles drive Ubu? These questions, I'm afraid, imply possible inquiries by the DPP and both he and I, I'm sure, aren't the only people asking themselves whether the incident took place in a pub or afternoon drinking club and whether or not it happened after closing time behind drawn curtains.
It smacks very much to me of an afternoon club episode. Labradors are very pubable dogs but poodles — I still can't help associating them with prostitutes — are much more likely to be seen in clubs where, like so many humans, they can look at themselves in a mirror while they talk to you. There was, in fact, I've just remembered, the sad and true story of the Welshowned dog that bears out my theory about pubs and Labradors. It seems there was a resident of Aberystwyth who was an alcoholic who used to take his Labrador on his pub crawls with him and, one day, the poor chap snuffed it. Well, the dog was quite lost. By this time, he'd become an alcoholic, since his late master had always let him have a saucer of bitter wherever they went, and the miserable thing took to pub crawling by himself. He used to stand outside pubs howling, as anyone would who hadn't got enough money on them to get served and, eventually, he was put down by the RSPCA. One good reason for thanking heaven, I think, for there not being a Royal Society for the Protection of People. The dog's master, incidentally, must have been the only Welshman who ever bought anyone else a drink. You do know, I suppose, that the Welsh are the only race that have never invented an alcoholic drink?
• Anyway, my heart goes out to Ubu in spite of his bloody stupid name and I imagine that his owner, that bad influence, Mr Hurles, must be beside himself, on another bar stool, regretting the day he first took Ubu out for a snort. On second thoughts, it's probably unfair to call Mr Hurles a bad influence. If a dog is determined to have a drink, he'll have a drink and, as I keep telling my friends' wives, you can't lead someone astray if they don't want to be led astray. Poor old dog. He must be seven anyway. That makes him 35 in human terms. I remember, quite distinctly for me, that it was at 35 that my head suddenly went, in so far as I then used to get physically drunk as opposed to simply talking rubbish. I wouldn't be surprised if Ubu isn't covered in those little scars that embroider most drunks and which come from falling upstairs, downstairs, into his basket and off the curb. What he will find now is that a lot of other dogs will unfairly accuse him of being drunk when he isn't. The stronger leg will make him limp and you know how people misinterpret a physical handicap. Then, he's bound to get a little cocky and start showing off about his drinking. I can see him walking into the local at opening time, up to the bar and saying to the barman, 'Christ, what a night. I think I'll have a hair of the dog, if I may, Nudge, nudge.' Then in time he'll be himself again and go on and on about his operation and another pub bore will have been born.
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