The Reluctant Vampire. Eric Morecambe

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      ‘Er, vell, it’s more off a small family get-together than anythink else. Just the vife, Vernon, me and Valentine, if he’s any better. Ve vill propaply go and vait at the bridle path ant see if there is anythink vorth bitink.’

      Victor was trying to get away quickly. ‘Oh, gutt Lord, is that the time? I tolt the vife I vould pick her up at twelf thirty.’

      ‘Is that the time she falls down?’ Wilf asked.

      ‘Pardon me?’ said a puzzled Victor.

      ‘You said you would pick her up at twelve thirty, so I was asking you if that was the time she fell down … Twelve thirty?’

      ‘Vilf, I haff never unterstood your jokes ant I still don’t. Guttbye Vilf,’ Victor said, patting Wilf on the head and giving him a tickle under the chin. Wilf showed his approval by licking Victor’s ear.

      Victor left the tavern the same way as he had arrived – by the window. Areta went to close the window after him, thinking, ‘He’s just like all men. Never closes anything after him.’

      Grabbo started to clean the glasses and whistled a late night tune. The tune was very popular in Gotcha at the moment. It was called ‘Show me the way to my cottage and my bed’. He hoped Wilf and the other two customers might take the hint and realise how late it was. But Wilf was in a talking mood that night.

      ‘Nice man, Victor, eh Grabbo?’

      ‘Charming,’ Grabbo said, oozing sarcasm that went straight over Wilf’s head. Wilf was quiet for a few seconds and then asked:

      ‘I don’t suppose you have anybody fresh in the cold cellar have you Grabbo?’

      ‘No,’ said Grabbo truthfully while putting the forty year old away.

      ‘It’s just that I fancy somebody fresh, that’s all.’

      ‘You heard what my father said, Wilf,’ Areta said, bustling around and clearing the table of the two customers who took the hint and left without saying goodnight to anyone.

      ‘Well, have you got any crisps then?’ Wilf asked.

      ‘What flavour?’ Grabbo asked with a tired voice.

      After a moment’s thought Wilf said, ‘Human please.’

      Grabbo threw him a pack of crisps saying, ‘Smokey bacon, take it or leave it.’

      ‘I’ll take it,’ Wilf said, his lips and teeth tearing open the packet.

      ‘That will be three lukas.’

      ‘What?’ Wilf asked, spraying crisps all over the bar.

      ‘That will be three lukas. Are you going deaf, Wilf?’

      ‘I haven’t got three lukas. As a matter of fact I haven’t got any money at all.’

      ‘No money? No money at all?’ Grabbo said, looking at his daughter.

      ‘No. You see, when I’m a werewolf I haven’t any pockets so I can’t carry any money.’

      ‘All right, Wilf,’ Grabbo said in a bored and tired voice. ‘You owe me three lukas.’

      ‘Thanks Grabbo.’

      ‘That’s O.K. Now take your crisps and go.’

      ‘Yes. Well goodnight then, Grabbo, and goodnight Areta. By the way, Areta, I’m not a werewolf next week so I was wondering if you would come to the fair with me a week on Thursday?’

      ‘Goodnight Wilf,’ Areta said softly.

      ‘Goodnight Areta,’ Wilf said sadly.