This is one of those stories told in many a small town around our great land. The story, wherever told, will be “God’s truth, mate,” because the bloke who tells you will know someone whose father knew someone who was involved in the event.
A commercial traveller used to arrive in town once a month, walking up the hill from the afternoon train and getting to the pub pretty well in time for tea. He was a regular overnight guest, but very private. He never really spoke to anyone.
Old Frank, the publican, and Tom, the barman, decided to ‘set up’ the guest. A chamber pot was taken into the kitchen and scrubbed spotless. The two men placed a cooked sausage in the pot, then tipped in a pint of flat beer. Once done, they took it upstairs and placed it under the side of the bed in the guest’s room.
Frank gave the guest the room key and upstairs he went. About 10 minutes later, he came back downstairs. “Excuse me,” he said, “I don’t think the room was cleaned properly this morning.” He took Frank upstairs to show him. Tom, seeing it happen, and twigging to what was going on, tipped the wink to his offsider and followed.
The three men entered the room, where the guest produced the chamber pot and showed its contents to the other two. Old Frank reached in, took the sausage and bit the end off, chewing it before swallowing. “No worries, mate,” said he, with a grin, “it’s only a sausage in flat beer!”
Horrified, the guest replied, “Ummm, no… You see, I needed a pee before I went down to get you”.