In the days of Mogey and Smush, there was no man more valuable in than the village tiler. The tiles were so shiny and clean, yet so fragile at the same time, that a tiler must have his grout and trowel close at hand all day and all night, especially in a town so rambunctious as Punchley. And there was tiler more magnificent in all the land than Mogey and Smush's tiler, Tyler the tiler.
"It's as though you're an artist with those tiles, Tyler," Smush said admiringly one day when Tyler had come by to repair a floor that had been damaged during a high-octane dumpling-eating contest.
"Aye," said Tyler.
"Is there anything you can't tile?" Mogey asked.
"Sir," Tyler replied, stopping work for a rare moment, "I can tile anything under the golden sun."
"Anything?" Smush queried. "Even if it had a lot of, er, moving parts?"
"Aye," said Tyler the tiler. And that very afternoon, the legend of Roundsnout, the Highland Tiled Pig, was born.
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