Bertie.

This blog post fulfils the assignment I love Liquorice allsorts hats at lazyblog.org. You can rate it here.

I don't understand why anyone could possibly dislike Liquorice allsorts hats - our entire economy was built upon them, just like the Scottish economy was built on artichokes. The only difference is that artichokes aren't particularly strong, and the economy fell over.

But more about that another time. Perhaps. Now is the time for talking about sweetie head gear, and the bastion of such was Bertie.

I'm sure you're all about to cry: We know of Bertie! Bertie Bassett! But you see, you don't know of Bertie, you don't know of him at all. Bertie Bassett was a fake and a charlatan - there was only the one true Bertie, and he is the reason why I love Liquorice allsorts hats.

When I were but a wee lad, I had a dog and my dog's name was Bertie. He was called Bertie because his parents had named him Albert. I shortened it because I didn't like them very much.

Bertie was a lovely dog, if a little temperamental and prone to biting things. On the whole, however I'm sure he would've rather hide in a corner than attack any intruder. He wasn't a poodle and as such was never forced to have bits of his fur shaved off and made to wear pink ribbons. Nor was he one of those silly yappy things and therefore did not wear any daft tartan coats. In short, he was a naked dog, and I'm sure he resented us for it. While we went swanning around in our flashy shoes, coats and scarves, he had to make do with what nature gave. *

One day, Bertie died. Imagine if you will one of those dramatic scenes from fillums with the hero kneeled beside the victim's lifeless body, raising his hands and screaming skywards: Why? Why God why? Why not take me instead - he was only young, whereas I have had my time on Earth. Take me!

Actually, you'd have to just imagine that, as I wasn't there when he died: I was down the pub. And frankly, he was a dog - I'm not being harsh or anything, but if the choice was between me and the mutt, well I'm sorry pooch but your time is up.

Anyway, when I came home I was told of the dear dog's demise, and I promptly went into the kitchen and got myself something to eat. The first thing I came to was a bag of liquorice allsorts.

And what, dear reader, do you think I found at the bottom of the bag? Have a guess.

Go on, really. Guess.

No? Oh, bloody hell, I'll just tell you then. At the bottom of the bag was the paw from poor Bertie.** It turned out that my parents had a rather lucrative sideline in grinding up pets to make into liquorice.*** Times had been hard of late, and they had had to resort to their own family canine.

Now, whenever I wear a liquorice allsorts hat, I think of Bertie, and that a little part of him might just be in that hat. I like to think that he is proud to have been made into an item of clothing, clothing that he was never allowed to wear during his lifetime. And that's why I love liquorice allsorts hats. Perhaps I love them a little too much, but that's another story and I'll only be made to sit in my corner after I tell you.

* What nature gave was actually quite a nice fur coat, but that's not the point.

** May not be true.****

*** Also may not be true.****

**** But then again it might.