During the long dark winter nights in the Rhondda valley, long term married men and those who are otherwise bored gather in small groups to put the world to rights. They often congregate around snooker tables or dart boards pints in hand with opinions on every subject known to man. Inevitably when a band of brothers meet regularly there is a tendency to see themselves as a unique entity apart from the general rush of society. In such a climate it is often the case that secret societies are formed. In the wider world we see exemplar organisations such as the Masons or the Buffs. In small villages lesser known societies exist. Some time ago a group of local men decided that, as they were all members of the local darts team, allotment holders and pigeon fanciers, there were grounds to form their own arcane association. For reasons that defy explanation they called themselves The Order of Whippets. Their aim was to provide a sanctuary for fellow thinkers and a collective means of support for themselves and their families.As with all such associations the means of entry was by invitation only and shrouded in mystery. Taking the Masons as their guide but without their resources our trusty crew managed to book a room above a public bar in which to perform their initiation ceremonies. From time to time the locals at The Marquis of Bute public house were treated to a strange cacophony of bumps and thumps on the ceiling above their heads. This was regarded as a minor annoyance by landlord Sam Owens as the amount of beer consumed during these ceremonies more than offset the irritation of an hour or so of shenanigans.And so it was in late January of 1972 that the monthly meeting took place. Two new members were to be initiated. Messrs Charlie Ellis and Evan John had been given the all clear by the Grand Whippet Iestyn Morris for inclusion into the hallowed ranks. They arrived at the pub at seven sharp and to the bemusement of the great unwashed were blindfolded and led upstairs. It wasnt long before the thumps and bumps started.Meanwhile downstairs the bar had started to fill up. Included in the ranks of the local sumpers were Mrs Phyllis Pugh, Mrs Evan John and Mrs Stella Ellis. Mrs Pugh was a staunch no nonsense woman who had single handedly brought up six children. She was listening incredulously to the two other women waxing eloquently about the status their husbands would achieve in the village after they had received the rank of Initiate Whippet. What are they doing up there? said Pugh. Having caught her attention the other two proceeded to regale her with details of the ceremony that was taking place upstairs. I must swear you to secrecy said Mrs John Evan told me its a very dignified affair that involves oaths and .. she was interrupted by a loud thump from upstairs . oaths and signatures. THUMP! Really? Mrs Pughs eyebrows were fully arched. THUMP! Yes replied Mrs Ellis They have to put their Sunday best on . THUMP! .. and recite some beautiful poetry .. THUMP! Theres money in it . Before she could complete her sentence there was an almighty crash behind them. They turned around to see a man dressed in a duck costume laying flat out on the pool table surrounded by debris. Above him was a hole in the ceiling he had created and peering down through it was what appeared to be a chicken, a panda and a dog. The duck let out a strangled cry STELLAAAAA STELLAAAAAH. Stella Ellis could only get a quick Christ Almighty out before the duck said GET AN AMBULANCE.AAARGH! MY LEG.By now the entire bar was looking on trying to make sense of the sight before them. The landlords jaw was nearing the floor and refused to lift. When it did recover he looked up to the ceiling and howled IESTYN. Im going to bloody well murder you. Get down here and bring those tossers with you.After giving The Grand Whippet a dressing down that incorporated every swear word in the English language, Sam Owens managed to glean that the initiation ceremony involved the men dressing up in costumes and leaping from table top to table top whilst consuming a pint of beer at every stop. Ellis had lost his footing and missed a table after drinking six pints and had hurtled at the speed of sound through a weak spot in the ceiling.When word got around the village, The Order of The Whippets ceased to be. The members just couldnt maintain an air of mystery when everyone was laughing at them and so they joined the local bowls club instead. It was a safer bet in the long run.Sometime in the late seventies there was an attempt to revive The Order of Whippets but it was short lived. Charlie Ellis had been appointed Grand Whippet and had devised an initiation ceremony that involved walking along a six inch wide protecting rail that ran the length of a bridge. For some reason he failed to take into account the thirty foot drop to the river below and when the inevitable happened the police made it quite clear that anymore nonsense of this kind would lead to arrests for all manner of legal infringements. That unfortunately put paid to The Order of Whippets once and for all. We shall never see their likes again. More's the pity.