Unexpectedly the Lovelots impasse was broken by dull crashing from somewhere in the building. The sound of raised voices drifted down from above them.

'Never mind. I think they've found him upstairs. Come with us Lovelots. Killerman put those clippers away,' ordered a relieved Pawser heading for the front door.

As they walked into the garden the front door of the next house flew open with a crash and three men staggered out. Despite his hands being handcuffed behind his back, the bald, heavily built, barrel chested, donkey jacketed Freddy had decided that coming quietly was not an option. The two S5 men struggled to keep him under control as the three of them crashed into the fence and fell over into the garden.

Seeing Freddy up close Pawser was glad he'd not encountered him in the house. Freddy probably wouldn't have succumbed to his poodling plan however adeptly it was applied.

Pawser looked at Killerman, then at Lovelots and turned to read the little plaque on the wall on the house they had just left. 'Lovelots Poodle Parlour' it read.

'Shit Killerman. We've got the wrong bloody house!'

'Bollocks!' said Killerman turning angrily to Lovelots,' You! Why didn't you say anything?'

'You were shooting at me .You didn't give me a chance. It's the extension. It's 2A. I let it out to Freddy,' blurted Lovelots alarmed that his ear might be in for further retribution.

Killerman thought for a moment, weighed up Lovelots arguments and then rolled his eyes in tactic acceptance of Lovelots excuses.

Lovelots looked at Mr Pooky. Mr Pooky looked at Lovelots. They both looked relieved.

Returning from their grand tour of the garden the two S5 men managed to grapple Freddy to his knees and pushed him against the fence.

Face forced up against the low garden fence Freddy stared at them, 'Oh hello Derrick how's it going?' Then catching Killerman's eye,' Oh Mr Killerman long time no see. I thought you'd left the service?'

'No. Still around Freddy. How's tricks?' engaged Killerman.

'Hold on', said Freddy and with an enormous effort lifted himself off the fence, the detectives with him and for a few moments they staggered around the garden before they wrestled him back to the fence.

Having arrived back, Freddy, his face, one again, crushed up against the fence, grunted. 'What happened to Mr Pooky Derrick?'

'He shot him,' whinged Derrick nodding in Killerman's direction.

'He does that. It's nothing personal is it Mr Killerman. How's Detective Sergeant Insole?'

'He took early retirement Freddy, his wife was poorly.'

'Crickey, you didn't shoot her as well did you?'

Killerman put his hands in his pockets and said nothing.

'Well much as I hate to break up this old girls school reunion,' one of the S5 men jibed, whilst attempting to subdue Freddy. 'I must say it's bad luck boys. Looks like you've entered the wrong house. I hope you've got a warrant,' he winked. 'You should see our place. Stacked with printing gear, wads of cash, vouchers. More goodies than King Minas ever had. Too bad you've missed out.'

'Midas you moron,' corrected Pawser absentmindedly.

'Whatever.'

Pawser couldn't believe his luck. First Dirk, having identified this gold mine had, in a rare moment of fallibility passed them the wrong address. Then Killerman in typical gung ho style had gone off on a wild poodle shoot leaving Pawser with the possibility of having to explain to Jocko, his boss, exactly what had happened before no doubt receiving his dismissal in return. Worse still this had left two dozy kids from Special Branch with more booty than a thirty piece all girl Rhythm and Blues band.

'Look chaps,' Pawser began with his best reconciliatory tone,' a few cock ups here and there and we all know we're all a little light on paperwork. I have a proposal. We'll leave you with Derrick and Mr Pooky here and you guys can get the retrospective warrants sorted out -it's your speciality after all. Killerman and I will be on our way. You get to keep the spoils of war as you put it. Let's pretend we were never here and you can take all the credit. Look I'll even call a wagon and some backup. How's that for you?'

Killerman looked taken aback at this startling proposal and began to protest.

Pawser glared him down.

The Special Branch officers had a quick impromptu consultation before cheerfully nodding in agreement with Pawser's unexpected offer. Even Freddy seemed prepared to go with the flow.

Pawser walked to the car and got onto the radio. When he returned from the car a small crowd of youngsters had arrived on their mountain bikes and a small chubby kid moved amongst them selling cigarettes at 20p a pop. Well insulated in flash jackets and designer boots they had gathered to watch the spectacle. Despite it being close to zero an ice cream van drew up and began to playing Camp Town Races in an attempt to swell the crowd even further.

Shortly after a couple of shifty looking heavy's joined the crowd for a few moments, their short peroxide hair and long leather coats reminiscent of two Russian grandmothers out on an early evening stroll in a Baltic sea resort. After a few moments staring impassively over the fence at Freddy they nodded to each other and then strode off purposefully down the road.

'Hey fatty,' the cigarette kid called over the fence.

They all looked up to see who chubby was talking to.

'Yeah you, the Jolly Green Giant,' the kid grinned at having caught Pawser's attention, 'why don't you go round and sit on the bastard to stop him running round like his just caught his chicken niblets in a can opener.'

Freddy looked distinctly displeased at the mention of his niblets in such a public place.

'You going to nick the little poncy, irritating one as well, lard arse?' the kid quickly followed up realising from Freddy's look his own niblets might be at serious risk of sustaining permanent damage sometime in the near future.

'I'm not poncy just artistic,' Derrick snapped back.

'I was talking about your dog mate. Every time I walk past he's at the gate yapping at me. Yap, yap, yap. It really pisses me off.'

Lard Arse! The bloody cheek of it, coming from a kid who looked like he'd spent his life stuffing down battered burgers and deep fried mars bars. Pawser was sure he'd heard Freddy snigger. It was alright for Freddy, he probably spent half his life been chased through the streets of London by young fit police officers. The other half was spent being pursued down prison corridors by heavily tattooed muscle-bound, gymslip wearing, fetishes with an insatiable desire to take Freddy back to their cells, slip on a gimp mask and spend long afternoons having him apply liberal quantities of extra virgin olive oil to their buffed torsos. Freddy was bound to be fit.

Conscious that the crowd was getting a little restless and chubby was on the verge of launching anther one of his fattest missiles from the extensive arsenal he'd collected for himself in the school playground over the years, Pawser decided to go on the offensive.

'Ought you kids to be off doing something useful,' Pawser addressed them over the fence. 'Like nicking cars or something.'

The chubby kid who could have could have only been about ten by Pawser's reckoning leaned over the gate, causally lit a cigarette and said, 'Naw mate, it's the closed season for car nick'n. Too cold. Don't you know nuffin.'

'So it just hanging around, pissing off the neighbours?'

'You've got to be joking mister, we're right in the middle of the shop lifting season. It's the glorious 25th next week. Didn't you know or are you too old?' This raised a laugh from a couple of the other kids.

'Even I know that Christmas is the 25th.' admitted Pawser, 'I suppose your looking forward to what Santa's going to bring you eh?' he added optimistically.

'Don't believe in no Santa mister. Where have you been? Everyone round here knows the glorious 25th is the start of the burglary season? Don't want to be out nicking last year's crap do we?'

'We'll it's good to know that the Christmas spirit is still alive and well.' reflected Pawser.

The chubby kid nodded, took a quick drag of his cigarette, looked around for any further customers and finding none turned to the S5 man who had knocked on Pawser's window. 'Want to sell your watch mister? I'll give you five quid.'

'You cheeky sod. It's a Breitling.'

'You sure mate .It doesn't look like one to me. I've got a few Rolexes at home, with certificates. £50 each. I could get them now if you'd like.'

'Bugger off!' replied a distinctly hacked off looking S5 man.

'I'll have a look.' piped up Killerman

'No you won't Killerman. We've got to go.' Pawser looked at his watch and then at the S5 men. 'Must go chaps, the van will be along soon I should imagine.' He turned to Derrick, 'Hope Mr Pooky feels better soon Derrick, no hard feelings eh?'

Pawser grabbed a rather agitated Killerman by the arm, pushed him through the kids, crossed the road and climbed into the car.

'Why did you let those tossers get away with it?' said an exasperated Killerman.

'I didn't. When I came back here to the radio I called Rollo and Ralfe,' said Pawser as he started the car. 'They just been in round the back and filled their boots. Didn't you see them staggering back up the road with those holdalls?'

'Those surveillance chaps are going to be pissed at us.' laughed Killerman.

'Not as pissed as when they find out I haven't called the meat wagon.' said Pawser. They watched as Freddy and the two Special Branch men pirouetted across the lawn and crash into some wheelie bins.

'Well Killerman. We must be on our way,' said Pawser starting the car, 'If you drop me off home you can have the Land Rover this evening to go badger wassocking or whatever it is you country folk think passes for entertainment on long winter's night. And then tomorrow we'll get together with Rollo and Ralfe to share the spoils of war.'

'Right Oh, Pawser.' smiled Killerman settling back in his seat and taking a large bite out of his choc ice. 'Right Oh!' And he waved cheerily at the two detectives as they drove off.

They drove in silence for a few minutes, Pawser deep in thought. Killerman nosily consuming his ice cream before Pawser unexpectedly pulled over.

'Not that I'm bothered Killerman, but do you think this coat makes me look fat?'