http://www.blogigo.co.uk/Snigsby The Tough of the Track puts on his moth-eaten vest and odd running shoes - one black and one white - and gives the athletic world another run for its money. These are the thrilling lost stories of the great Alf. en KenWhitmore KenWhitmore Tue, 26 Apr 2005 16:54:15 +0200 daily 1 RUMOURS THAT the local athletics stadium was haunted by a phantom runner who raced round the track at midnight and into the early hours had been been buzzing round the big manufacturing town of Greystone for several years. The stories were not taken seriously until the stadium night watchman, old Ed Gudgeon, was rushed to hospital with chest pains after claiming to have seen the ghost one night in July. Alf Tupper, the Tough of the Track, was a pal of Ed, and as soon as he finished work at Charlie Chipping’s plumber’s shop next evening he hurried to the hospital with a bunch of purple grapes, a packet of fags and a bottle of stout for the old invalid. “What happened, Ed?” growled Alf. “Was you drunk again?” “No I was not drunk!” cried Ed. “I saw a blooming ghost. But that reminds me. Take the top off that bottle before the Matron comes.” Alf bit the top off the stout bottle and Ed took a deep swig. “Well tell us what happened,” demanded Alf. Ed licked froth off his... Tue, 26 Apr 2005 16:54:15 +0200 http://www.blogigo.co.uk/Snigsby/2.-THE-GHOST-OF-GREYSTONE-STADIUM/2/ http://www.blogigo.co.uk/Snigsby/2.-THE-GHOST-OF-GREYSTONE-STADIUM/2/ It was ten o’clock on a typical summer night in the large manufacturing town of Greystone and the rain was lashing down when Alf Tupper, the Tough of the Track, left Charlie Chipping’s plumber’s shop, where he worked as a plumber’s mate, and locked the door behind him. Alf had been working overtime on an urgent pipe welding job and now was eager to get his teeth into a big fish and chip supper. As he was folding the evening paper over his head to keep his shaggy brown hair dry he glanced up the street and saw the muffled shape of a man lurking in a shop doorway on the corner. He didn’t like the look of the shadowy figure, but was not scared, either. He was an international athlete and as fit as a butcher’s dog and he knew he could handle himself. Alf’s hobnailed boots rang on the pavement as he approached the man, then drew level. Suddenly he felt a hand plucking the sleeve of his raincoat and he automatically spun round, adopted a boxing stance and put up his fists. “Don’t hit me!... Thu, 07 Apr 2005 19:05:35 +0200 http://www.blogigo.co.uk/Snigsby/1.-ALF-GETS-STUCK-IN/1/ http://www.blogigo.co.uk/Snigsby/1.-ALF-GETS-STUCK-IN/1/