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DUCK When I ordered the duck I wasn’t aware that my friend Atkins Down The Road couldn’t abide other people eating duck when he wasn’t eating it. Not that it would have stopped me ordering it as I like to wind him up occasionally, just as he likes to wind me up.     There were eight of us at the meal to celebrate Ted Burrows' birthday; The Trouble and I, the aforementioned Atkins and his wife Meg, The Parsley-Hays and Ted Burrows and his wife Caroline. The waiter had handed out menus five minutes earlier and since then Atkins had asked everyone except me what they were having. Each of their answers had elicited a relieved smile from Atkins. Now he asked me.     "Duck," I said.     "Fuck!" said Atkins.     “Sacre bleu" said Caroline Burrows, who is learning French and tries it out at every opportunity.     "I'll have to have it now," Atkins sulked.     "Have what?" said Ted Burrows.     "Duck," said Atkins. “I was going to have braised beef and savoury suet dumplings but now I'm going to have to have duck.”     “He just can't bear to see anyone eating duck when he's not having it," Mrs Atkins explained to the rest of the party. "He can do without duck. He can cast duck completely from his mind. It would be as though ducks had never made it onto Noah’s Ark; but only if someone else isn't having it.”     "I was really looking forward to having braised beef and savoury suet dumplings as well," moaned Atkins, giving me a malevolent look.     The Trouble appealed to me. "Can't you have something else?"     "Well I could," I said, "but I'm in a duck mood."     "They have bouef bourguignon," coaxed The Trouble, "You like that."     "No, I'll stick with the duck if it's all the same to you."     "The guinea fowl in whisky sauce is excellent," offered Robert Parsley-Hay. "Jill and I had it the other week. Very like duck in fact.”     "In that case I might as well have duck."     "It wasn't all that much like duck,” said Jill Parsley-Hay."     "No good for me then, I said, "I want something that definitely tastes of duck. Preferably duck."     “I thought you were supposed to be my friend!” accused Atkins. Atkins is a member of the local amateur operatic society and can get a bit dramatic sometimes.     “Friend, not wet nurse,” I said, sticking to my guns and my duck.     "I really had the taste for braised beef and savoury suet dumplings," complained Atkins. “But now it’s got to be duck."     "So why are you complaining then?" I said, "You like duck."     Atkins fumed. "I'm complaining because I fancied bloody braised beef and sodding savoury suet dumpling.”     "Calme toi, Monsieur Atkins, calme toi," said Caroline, demonstrating her command of the French language but not necessarily when to use it.     "Bollocks," said Atkins, demonstrating his command of the English language and exactly when to use it.     I decided to rack up a few brownie points to be cashed in at a later date. "Oh all right then. Anything for a quiet life. I'll have the bouef bourguignon."     Atkins was overjoyed. "Really?"     “I wouldn’t have ordered duck in the first place if I’d known,” I lied.     "Thank Terry," said Meg Atkins."     "Thank you Razza," said Atkins.     The food arrived in due course. Atkins was the first to be served, with his steak and suet dumplings, and quite mouth-watering it looked too, in fact I wished I'd ordered it myself. The waiter served the rest of us. Last to be served was Ted Burrows. The waiter placed a plate before him. Sitting on it, invitingly, was half an extremely succulent-looking crispy-skinned duck smothered in a rich orange sauce.     "I ordered the pork in cider," said Ted.     "Sorry sir," said the waiter, making to remove the plate.     "No, it's all right," said Ted, "I quite fancy the duck now I’ve seen it, it looks quite mouth-watering."     "Fucking hell fire!" shouted Atkins, and got to his feet and stormed out.     We shared his steak and suet pudding between us. Well I had most of it. It was as good as it looked.