Dick In The - Butty

"Bakery’s closed," Dick lied effortlessly. "Power’s out. Only thing left in the village is what’s already between two slices of bread. And that butty looks like it could feed a small crew."

Barnaby sighed. He knew Dick wouldn't leave until he had secured a portion of the prize. With the resigned air of a man paying a tax he didn't owe, Barnaby pulled the sandwich apart. He tore a generous corner off the left side and handed it over. dick in the butty

Barnaby was the kind of man who took his lunch seriously. Every day at precisely noon, he would retreat to a quiet corner of the village green with a heavy-duty cooler and a flask of tea. Barnaby was a traditionalist, and in his part of the world, there was no meal more sacred than the butty. "Bakery’s closed," Dick lied effortlessly

A butty, for the uninitiated, was not just a sandwich. It was a structural engineering project. It required thick, buttered slices of white bread and a filling substantial enough to survive a North Sea gale. On this particular Tuesday, Barnaby had prepared a masterpiece: a thick-cut bacon butty with a dollop of brown sauce. And that butty looks like it could feed a small crew

"Right then, Barnaby," Dick boomed, hovering over the bench. "That’s a fine-looking specimen you’ve got there."

Barnaby gripped his sandwich tighter. "It’s my lunch, Dick. Go get your own from the bakery."

: A cheeky local legend with a knack for being in the right place at lunchtime.