Wizki Tales

Wizki’s Mobile Disco

Wizki’s Mobile Disco grew out of Wizki’s deep-felt love of dancing. The pup is quite a mover. He studied tap at an early age and people predicted big things when he took up ballet. Tragically Wizki never became tall enough to take his place at the ‘Saddler’s Wells Puppy Ballet Troup’. It was not surprising, when Wizki is a Scottie dog. Still, his Pas de Deux was acknowledged to be breath-taking for a creature with such stubby legs.

When Wizki discovered Pop Music and had taken a spin through the genres as a Punky Pup, a Northern Soul Pup, a New Romantic Pup and a Skinhead Pup, he realised the genre for him was Disco. But where to hear it? He was too far ahead of the times to benefit from the 70’s retro movement, yet too young to swing at Studio 54 till the early hours. Instead Wizki played music in his bedroom each night on the Dancette that Fiona had passed down to him. He would dance in front of the mirror and dream of opening up the general public to a genre that he felt was much maligned.

Wizki longed to take the disco sound out onto the streets. He knew he could make the people dance if only they could hear the sounds he heard. Then it struck him: a mobile disco! If he strapped a trailer onto the back of his tricycle and could pedal the whole thing wherever he wanted to go. It was not Wizki’s first stroke of genius but, though he said so himself, it was another fine example of the Power of the Pup.

His first gig was at the Darby and Joan club in Streatham where the audience were friendly but, being in their Seventies they had mistaken Wizki’s 70’s Disco for something that might apply to them. They weren’t really the type to appreciate Wizki’s ‘Dance Yourself Dizzy’ philosophy. However, they thought Wizki was a very polite Puppy, especially when he turned the music off and treated them to a Sing-along of camping songs he picked up while a mascot for the Cubs. At the end of the night, they gave him chocolate cake to take away, a reward for which Wizki was very grateful, though he forgot to thank them as usual.

Wizki’s next gig was even less successful. It was 400 hundred miles North in Scotland. The police picked up the Pup just below Oxford on the M40, pedalling like crazy up the hard shoulder looking frantically at his watch because the show was due to start in Glasgow in 25 minutes and he was still 350 miles away. Wizki had seriously under-budgeted the time he required to get there. He demanded that the police drop him off at his gig. The police instead were kind enough to take Wizki back home, where Fiona was waiting somewhat concerned because Wizki hadn’t left a note to explain where he was going or what time he would be back. She had figured he was up to something mischievous because he had made himself fifteen peanut butter sandwiches using up all the bread and peanut butter and had left a massive mess in the kitchen, but still, a person likes to know where their tiny puppy is and that the mite is safe and sound.

So Wizki’s career as a Mobile Disc Jockey progressed, sometimes with a triumphal show that had everyone singing ‘Last Night a Puppy Saved My Life’ as the Disco came to a close and other times ending in disaster, like the night of Wizki’s open air disco in the park where he called a group of young ruffians ‘morons’ for not dancing, for which they threw him into the pond, Dancette and all. But Wizki’s greatest gig, the one he knew would go down in the annals of music history as the Greatest Disco of All Time, officially recognised by the whole wide world including himself, the BBC and the Guinness Book of Records, was Wizki’s Royal Command Performance Disco at Buckingham Palace, where Wizki spent the night entertaining the Queen and all her footmen.

Wizki is not really a Royalist. He describes himself more a Republican/Socialist with Doggyist tendencies. He naturally rebels against all forms of Authority (just ask Fiona what he’s like when she puts him to go to bed during Changing Rooms) and he hates the idea of being a Subject and not a Citizen. But he knew this was the ideal showcase for him to put forward the political cause most dear to his heart, The Vote for Puppies.

It is somewhat in doubt that Wizki was actually booked for the gig. If he was, why would he have sneaked into Buckingham Palace inside a bearskin he stole from a sleepy Guardsman, and why would he have set up his disco in a corridor and not in a proper room? It wasn’t like the Queen was going to stand in a corridor all night to listen to a tiny puppy’s disco! Whatever, Wizki waited till the entourage was passing through the corridor and hit them with the sure-fire dance floor filler, ‘I Feel Like I’m In Love’ by Kelly Marie. The Queen, at first surprised to see a small Scottish Terrier in her house and even more surprised to see the Scottish Terrier had on a pair of headphones and a jumpsuit with ‘Wizki Roolz’ embroidered on the back, found herself tapping her foot to the beat and stopping the Ladies in Waiting from arresting Wizki and throwing him out of the Palace. She asked Wizki to set up properly in the Ballroom, which Wizki duly did, pedalling his disco through the opulence, imagining himself as King Wizki ruling the country with a rod of iron terrorising squirrels of all persuasions. He set up his light show - two torches he waved in people’s faces - and had the sound pumped right up to 6: any louder and his tiny little ears hurt.

The Queen is a little old for Disco Dancing. Wizki resorted to the Campfire songs and soon the whole Royal Household joined in. He even had them sing, ‘A Nation Once Again’, which Wizki thought was somewhat subversive being sung at the home of the British Empire. At the end of the night Wizki broached the subject of Votes for Puppies and the Queen, after a moment of consultation with Tony Blair, who had popped in for a night cap after hearing what a great time everyone was having at Wizki’s disco, agreed that Puppies could indeed have the right to vote on the day that they turned 18.

Wizki pedalled home with glee through the dark London night, and woke Fiona up to tell her of his success and about his new plans to go into politics, whereby he would take his message around shopping malls using his disco to break the ice. Fiona, though it broke her heart to do it, pointed out that Puppies generally don’t live to 18. Most of them pass away at 12 or even younger: very few puppies would make it to the ballot box and the ones who were still alive would be too frail to vote.

It was a slap in the face for the small one. He thought he’d done so well but it seemed the Queen had simply been mocking him. He vowed there and then to join the Anarchist Society and to Fight the Monarchy with all his might. It was hard enough trying to be a real Puppy without the Queen making a monkey out of him. Why, he’d show those Smart Alec House of Windsor Clever Clogs!

But by morning he’d forgotten all about it and was planning his new career as a footballer.

He’s a Silly Little Puppy, and with such a short memory.

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