FAREWELL DICKIE
By Rattus rattus

(THE CAUSE OF THE DROPPINGS IN OUR CITY’S HERITAGE)

It is with a certain amount of sadness that I find myself putting quill to parchment. Whilst travelling on my daily rat run, I was informed by a fellow traveller that Derby Heritage Centre is to close down. What a loss to Derby! Barnaby, the brown rat, whose area of responsibility covers the Council House and River Gardens for the removal of chips, kebabs and chicken nuggets tearfully announced he had heard talk of it in the Council chamber, and then acquired a copy of the local paper concerning it.

As a side issue, Barnaby said, “There is much unease at the moment amongst our kind, because of the demolition of the bus station. Many of our number do not have hard hats, but, looking at the positives, we are now putting our names down for the luxury apartments that are to be built there. There are concerns though, amongst our older generation the long tales. They are worried because of the many planned food outlets. Will our youngsters become obese?”

Returning to Dickie, in reading Barnaby’s newspaper, (oh, and by the way, what a lovely photograph!), Dickie looks like the cat that’s got the cream, with his Cheshire Cat smile (Richard looks most upset). I would like to take issue with Dickie when he says “it was rather a dangerous thing to do.” My little cousins say he does not know what danger is. They all say, “if Dickie caught you in the Heritage Centre he would have the brass out of your pocket before you could say cheese.” That’s danger!

I apologise to Richard if the actions of my little cousins have in any way affected (infected?) the patronage of the tearooms. They unanimousely insist that they only sat opposite the customer, watching them scoffing their cream scones and never went onto their plates until they had finished eating. Just for the record, I feel mixed emotions at the loss of Richard, to Derby’s heritage. I cannot forget the unhappiness that he caused to my great great grandfather Rattus norvegicus and his extended family.

Old Dickie accused my great great grandfather of being incontinent in one of his barns, and causing damage to property in his care, the result being a great bonfire. Rattus norvegicus always refuted these allegations and claimed that he was being fitted up by Dickie. Dear Rattus norvegicus could not live with this shame, local youngsters calling after him, “you pee yourself, you pee yourself”, and one summer’s evening in a nearby cornfield, he threw himself into the blades of an oncoming combined harvester.

So with mixed emotions Dickie, having had many a meal at the Heritage Centre, with a wipe of my whiskers and a shake of my long, thin tail, I bid you farewell, and may the spirits go with you!