Devil of a job for a crafty butcher

THe joke about a butcher holding down the scale with his finger to increase the weight of a chicken (Peterborough) reminded me of working in a butcher’s in the Fifties. one Christmas eve, a woman came in looking flustered and asked if we had any turkeys left. Mick, the guv’nor, went into the fridge and brought out the only turkey we still had. He put it on the scales and it weighed 12lb. the customer said she wanted one that weighed a stone. Mick said he’d get another and, on the way to the fridge, picked up a 2lb weight without the customer seeing. He inserted it, with some difficulty, into the bird. He came out all smiles, put it on the scales and said: ‘Just 14lb!’ ‘I’ll have it,’ said the customer. ‘oK,’ said Mick. ‘Come back in ten minutes and we’ll have it cleaned and trussed.’ ‘no need, I’ll do that myself,’ said the woman. Mick’s jaw dropped and for a minute he was lost for words. then he said: ‘well, let us take off the feet and pull the leg sinews.’ He went back into the fridge and frantically fought to get the weight out. though he was in a really cold fridge, he broke out in a terrible sweat. then he had to find a way of pulling the sinews without the special hook we had in the shop. He somehow twisted the legs round the door hinge and pulled the sinews, before finally re-emerging. ‘My, that took a time, I didn’t realise how hard that job was. I’m glad I didn’t try that on my own,’ said the lady. she paid her bill and put a pound in the tips box. Poor Mick was shattered; we were too — from laughing — and he was never allowed to forget that story. David Britton, Flyford Flavell, worcs.