 bucketfillinman
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32/NA/, Spain
Join Date: Mar 2008 |
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| 32 | | NA |
Spain | | 101 | | 86.76 | | Mar 24, 2008 | | Apr 19, 2008 | | 17 |
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Here is the first part of my book. It's for readers who are are not easily offended. I welcome your comments.
This member does not have any public journals.Pages: Prev | Next The alarm sounds. Ryan slides out of bed and resets it for 7:30. Finally after all this talk, it’s the big day. They must of felt like this on D-day. He laughs to himself at how stupid that comparison is. He feels excited even though he is convinced that he won’t enjoy it. He is pleased that he got a shag last night. He could tell that she didn’t really want to but she did the right thing. He takes a shower then goes into the spare room. He can’t believe his eyes; Karen has laid out his Motorhead T-shirt, the one that shrunk in the wash. The T-shirt he gave to her as a nightshirt. The one that makes him look pregnant. He creeps back into their bedroom and starts rummaging around in his rickety chest of draws.
Karen stirs.
“What are you doing? I thought I laid your clothes out in the other room?”
“YOU LAID OUT MY MOTORHEAD T-SHIRT!” snaps Ryan irritated “It doesn’t fit!”
He finds a suitable T-shirt and gets dressed.
“Make us a cup of coffee?”
“I’M IN RUSH TO GET READY! They might turn up early, I haven’t had my breakfast yet!”
“They won’t turn up early, especially if they are picking Marcus up first.”
“They might pick me up first! I’ll make your coffee if I have time” says Ryan disappearing downstairs.
He is so sweet, thinks Karen, look how agitated he is. He has a phobia about being late. If he says he will be somewhere at a certain time he always is. Unfortunately he expects everyone else to do the same. She knows that he’ll be looking out of the window soon wondering where the fuck they are.
“Where the fuck are they?” says Ryan looking out of the living room window.
“It’s only 7:15" says Karen drinking her coffee.
“We need to avoid the rush hour traffic, we’ve got a four hour drive as it is, we don’t want to get jammed up. To be honest, I would have preferred to have left earlier.”
“But leaving at half 7 should avoid the rush hour.”
“Yeah, avoid the rush hour here but when we get an hour up the road we’ll hit the rush hour there!”
“It’ll be strange having the place to myself for 3 days.”
“You still having a girlie weekend?”
“I think so, Denise and Sarah are up for it but I’ve got a feeling Julie will blow it out”
“Yeah?”
“She’s on detox and has to watch what she eats, apparently.”
“Fucking detox! She only shits herself because she can’t handle her job, the stupid bitch. Bragging, moaning, bragging, moaning. If she blows it out you’ll probably have a better time.”
“You’re probably right.”
“Where the fuck are they?” Ryan opens the front door and takes a look up and down the street. He comes back in shaking his head.
“I’ve got to get ready in a minute, I don’t want to go to work” says Karen stretching.
“I’ll have a piss first, keep an eye out the window” he rushes upstairs.
Karen notices a paint chart lying on the floor; she picks it up and considers painting the living room while Ryan is away. She flicks through the hundreds of shades of greens, blues and magnolias. Suddenly the peace is disturbed by a car horn, it sounds a second time then the driver decides to get creative and play a little tune. Eddie Reed looks out of the window and glares at the stranger in the camp. Ryan comes charging back into the room.
“They’re here!” he says frantically putting his jacket on.
“No shit! there’s your bag, have you got your phone? Charger? Wallet?”
Ryan is looking around in all directions checking his pockets. The horn is still sounding antisocially outside. Ryan suddenly stops checking his pockets and opens the door.
“KNOCK IT OFF, YOU’LL WAKE UP THE WHOLE STREET!” he hisses and goes back inside. The horn stops.
“Right, I’ve got everything. See you later” He hugs her “I don’t want to go!”
“Have a great time and ring me when you get there.”
“Will do, I love you!”
“I love you too!”
Ryan heads out the door. He can see the glow from Eddie Reid’s cigarette and hears a low rumbling voice of complaint, which he completely ignores
They are in a light blue Ford mini-bus. It has clearly seen better days. The paintwork is covered in scrapes and chips with a prominent dent on the passenger door. ‘Taylor Self drive coaches’ is written on the side in faded yellow paint. Ryan wonders how much of this damage was caused this morning. He can see Pilchard with his permanently bulging fish like eyes in the drivers seat with ‘Kiss my arse’ and some young bloke he assumes to be Crocket riding shotgun. Two blokes he doesn’t recognise are in the seats behind them. Fat Dave, Jason Lew are in the seats at the back. He can’t see Vellacott or Matt Tyler.
“I think we woke that old bloke up" says ‘Kiss my arse’ through the half open window. Eddie Reed stares back at them while leaning on his front gate, false teeth fully dislodged.
Ryan slides open the side door and steps inside. The interior is in a similar state to the outside with stained and torn seats. It is obvious that this Van has seen plenty of Vomit in its lifetime. Despite the ‘No-smoking sign’ there is a strong smell of cigarette smoke mixed in with the stench of body odour, puke and must.
“Hello boys” shouts Ryan immediately smelling booze.
All offer him a nodded or grunted greeting. Ryan waits for Phil to do the introductions. He doesn’t, Ryan prods him on the back.
“You going to introduce us or am I going to stand here like an arsehole all day?”
“Oh, sorry, this is my cousin Ryan, Ryan this is Julie’s brother Dean AKA Crocket” Ryan shakes the youths hand. He is a short and chubby with a trendy haircut and bum-fluff. His eyes are too close together. He eyes Ryan suspiciously making him feel uneasy.
“Nice to meet you” says Ryan.
“Yeah” replies Crocket with attitude.
“This is Mark and Glen from work” says Phil without indicating which is which. Both men resemble nightclub doormen and are in their early to mid thirties.
“Glen” says the fatter of the two with a shaved head but disarmingly friendly smile. He reaches an over developed arm to shake Ryan’s hand. Ryan notices the large ‘Jack’ tattoo on his forearm. Glen sees him looking at it “It’s the name of my little lad” says Glen proudly.
“Mark, alright chap?” says his companion in a northern accent, a rat-faced trendy spotty geezer that looks like he also spends way too much time lifting weights.
“Nice to meet you” says Ryan eyeing the beer bottles they are holding. It’s quarter to eight for fucks sake!
“You know everyone else" says Phil turning round “Let’s get Marcus”. Pilchard pulls away from the kerb violently causing Ryan to fall into his seat by the door.
“Dave, Jason, you boys alright? Long time no see" says Ryan looking for a seat belt. There isn’t one.
“Good to see you Ryan” Says Fat Dave “Love these early starts me! I’m tired.”
“Not as tired as you’re mum was when I got off her last night!” Screams Phil from the front of the bus.
They all erupt, especially Crocket.
“Hello Jase, Still working in the Golden Lamb restaurant?”
“No Ryan, that was 17 years ago" sighs Jason an oriental bloke with thick black glasses. That is such an old joke, but he was expecting it.
Fat Dave and Jason are old friends from school. They used to drink in the pub where Ryan met Karen but since then they only see each other at weddings. Both have aged badly. Jason used to have long flowing heavy metal hair but now is bald. Unfortunately his head is shaped like a shell. Fat Dave is now 4 stone heavier than the last time Ryan saw him and he was fat then. His ears look like they are sinking into his head.
They are weaving their way through the labyrinth of streets to Marcus’s house.
“Want a beer mate?” says Glen pointing to an open case of trendy brand lager. An unopened case is next to it. The third case is in with the bags.
“Bit early ain’t it?”
“Queer or something? Have a fucking beer" shouts Phil sounding half cut already.
“O.K” says Ryan accepting a bottle.
“Here you go" says Crocket throwing him a bottle opener. He doesn’t catch it. Instead it falls between the seats and clatters across the floor. Crocket laughs snidely. Ryan bends down to retrieve it just as Pilchard slams on the brakes. Ryan is propelled out of his seat and into the aisle. Crocket kills himself laughing as if Ryan was his worst enemy. ‘I don’t like that little cunt’ thinks Ryan opening the bottle while feeling carsick.
“Is it right or left here?” calls Pilchard.
“Left” says Ryan pointing right “I mean right.”
Pilchard guns the mini-bus through the quiet suburban streets like a man with a wife in labour. He makes Vellacott’s suicidal driving seem pedestrian in comparison. This does not bode well.
“Are we picking up Matt Tyler after we get Marcus?” asks Ryan.
“He’s blown it out, his kid ain’t well or some shit like that" Snorts Phil angrily.
“Good, the bloke’s an arsehole" says Ryan feeling relieved that he doesn’t have to put up with that piece of shit.
“He sent me a text, wasn’t even man enough to ring me.”
“I don’t know why you invited him in the first place.”
“I don’t know why I invited a lot of people mate. Nice little message you left on my answer machine, Ryan?”
“You liked it did you?”
“My Dad thought it was a real message and rang me at work really panicking!”
“You’re joking?” says Ryan laughing.
“I wish I was, he’s going ‘how could you be so stupid, you’ve ruined your entire life’!"
“What message did you leave?” says Pilchard.
“He said that I should get tested as the last person he had sex with was me. Dad thought I was gay, a bit like Marcus really. I couldn’t believe Dad fell for it!” says Phil shaking his head.
“Do you reckon Vellacott will be ready?” says Pilchard.
“No chance” replies Ryan.
“Still tossing himself off?” says Fat Dave.
“Yes, probably over your mum!” shouts Phil “I don’t know why I’m even picking Marcus up. He dropped me right in the shit last night.”
“How come?”
“He sent me a text message saying that he couldn’t wait to get among the pussy and Julie saw it. She went mental; I ended up sleeping on the fucking sofa last night. Luckily I managed to patch things up with her this morning."
“That’s him all over" says Ryan remembering how Vellacott had done the same thing to him once.
They pull up outside Marcus’s house. It is in total darkness. Pilchard sounds the horn. Nothing. Phil reaches over and gives it a long neighbour irritating blast.
“I’ll knock him up" says Ryan sliding the door open. Phil honks the horn again. Ryan waves for quiet.
He walks up Vellacott’s overgrown front garden and presses the doorbell. He doesn’t expect the door to open very quickly; he takes a long swig from the beer bottle and looks up at Marcus’s bedroom window. Suddenly a light comes on followed by Vellacott’s bewildered face at the window. He’s just woken up. He staggers away from the window bumping into things and heads downstairs.
“I fucking knew you wouldn’t be ready” Gloats Ryan as Marcus opens the door wearing a stained T-shirt and unsavoury boxers: he looks completely dishevelled.
“Oh…Fuck….Just….Woke….up….Give us a minute” he slurs.
“Have you packed a bag?”
“No, I was going to do it this morning.”
“Well don’t just stand there, have a quick wash and throw some stuff into a bag!”
“Easy, easy, are you on the piss already?”
“Never mind about that, get moving!”
Ryan goes back to the mini-bus.
“He aint ready, just woken up. I knew this was going to happen.”
“He’s never got his shit together" says Pilchard.
“Pot-kettle” snaps Phil.
“I’ll go and give him a hand” Says Ryan.
“I bet you will!” yells Phil “But after he’s come, you can help him pack a bag!”
Crocket pisses himself, there’s that nasty little laugh again, notes Ryan as he closes Vellacott’s door behind him.
“RIGHT, LET’S GET OUT OF HERE AS SOON AS POSSIBLE BEFORE ‘KISS MY ARSE’ STARTS IN WITH THAT FUCKING HORN AGAIN!”
Marcus is rummaging around upstairs, Ryan runs upstairs to join him.
“Sorry mate, I overslept" says Marcus while cleaning his teeth.
“Julie’s brother seems like a right arsehole.”
“What about Matt Tyler, have you said anything to him?”
“He’s blown it out! His kid is ill, he sent Phil a text.”
“FUCKING HELL, I WISH WE HAD KNOWN EARLIER, I’VE HAD TO PUT UP WITH YOUR FUCKING MOANING ABOUT HIM FOR DAYS!”
“Just get ready, there’s a good boy!”
“There’s a rucksack in the airing cupboard, do us a favour and chuck some T-shirts in it” says Marcus running a sink full of hot water and taking his T-shirt off.
Ryan finds the rucksack and empties the contents onto Marcus’s bed.
The carpet is littered with dozens of CD’s and DVD’s that are out of their cases, most of which belong to Ryan. Marcus really knows how to treat other peoples property like shit.
“I can’t believe he’s blown it out. My pants are in that chest of draws by the window" says Marcus now completely naked, covering his cock and balls with his hand.
Ryan turns his head away in disgust and looks out of the window. Mark is standing outside the van smoking. He throws random items into the rucksack feeling tense. This weekend has already got off to a bad start.
Finally ready Marcus closes his front door and he and Ryan approach the Van.
“You don’t half fuck about Marcus" Says Phil “You’ve put us right behind schedule.”
Marcus ignores him and slides open the Van door.
“Sorry boys, I overslept” He notices Crocket’s trendy multi-coloured hair “Fuck me mate, I hope you didn’t pay for that haircut!”
Everyone laughs except Crocket who mutters something under his breath.
“This is Marcus" says Phil.
Vellacott surveys the rest of the party. There’s Fat Dave, that posh looking ugly Knobhead with no dress sense and the sexual magnetism of a stapler.
“Hello Marcus” says Fat Dave.
“We know what happened to all the pies lads!” shouts Marcus.
Fat Dave bristles upset that Marcus had to draw attention to his weight. The gloves are off.
“What happened to you Marcus?” says Fat Dave “Are you gay? Look at those limp wrists!”
“Fuck off you pot bellied pig!”
“Mate, you are so camp that I can’t take you seriously" says Fat Dave pissing himself laughing “It’s like one of the Bee Gees having a go at you!”
Ryan loves this. He hasn’t broached the subject of Vellacott’s newfound femininity but clearly other people are keen to especially when provoked. Ryan hopes that Marcus’s cowardice around women will also be examined at length.
Marcus turns to Jason Lew, “You still work in the golden Lamb?” needles Marcus.
“Yeah, I love it, wouldn’t work anywhere else” says Jason sarcastically.
“You look like a fucking missile mate!” laughs Marcus “If you can’t grow some hair over that pointy little head of yours at least wear a fucking hat!”
“Take no notice of him Jase" says Fat Dave “I think Marcus is menstruating!”
“Out of his mouth!” shouts Phil
Two meatheads sit front of them. They are obviously slaves to the gym but one is also a slave to the chip-pan.
“Alright chap, I’m Mark, this is Glen, we work with Phil” says the Gym gerbil.
“You come from Blackpool?” Marcus asks Mark.
“No I bloody don’t Chap, I’m originally from Salford”
“Bloody hell mate, you really like your Jack Daniels!” jokes Marcus noticing Glen’s ‘Jack’ tattoo.
“That’s the name of my little boy" replies Glen humourlessly.
“Oh, how old is he?” says Marcus changing tact
“He’s five, I don’t see him as much as I’d like to, I’m not with his mother no more.”
Everyone makes a mental note to avoid the subject of Glen’s kid. Marcus and Ryan throw their bags onto the pile at the back of the Van and occupy the two seats by the sliding door.
“Right then, we’re off.” Says Pilchard starting the engine “Blackpool here we come!”
“I take it you actually know the way to Blackpool, mate?” says Phil “Have we got a map?”
“Don’t worry Phil, I’ve got it all sorted.”
“Yes but have we got a map?”
“No.”
“What if we get lost? Correct me if I’m wrong but I assume this piece of shit isn’t equipped with Satellite navigation?”
“We won’t get lost!”
“But if we did, we’re fucked? Is that what you’re telling me?”
“We won’t get lost!”
“If we get lost we’ll ask Noel Gallagher here, he’ll know the way” shouts Marcus.
“Very funny chap” replies Mark.
“Want a beer?” says glen handing Marcus a bottle.
“I suppose it’s no use saying no" says Marcus.
Marcus takes a swig from the bottle and pulls a face.
“You could have put them in the fridge mate, they’re a bit warm.”
“That’s Marcus all over" shouts Phil “You give him something for nothing and he complains, ungrateful prick!”
Everyone laughs.
“I had to sleep on the sofa last night because of you Marcus" Says Phil
“Why?” says Marcus defensively.
“That fucking text you sent me about getting in there with the pussy, Julie read it and thought I was going on the pull!”
“She shouldn’t be reading your fucking text messages mate, it serves her right. What’s she doing checking your phone? His Karen’s the bloody same. She had a go at him because of something I texted him that she read. I didn’t text her and I didn’t text Julie. If they go bloody snooping through other people’s property they deserve all they get. My conscious is clear.”
The aggressive tone in Vellacott’s voice annoys Crocket. If his sister wants to check Phil’s mobile she can. He glares at Marcus over his shoulder.
“This beer doesn’t taste too bad for this time of the morning” says Ryan changing the subject. “Although I think we are going to have to pace ourselves if we are going clubbing tonight.”
“You just can’t take the pace!” snaps Crocket nastily “I can drink all day.”
“Ah, I remember those days” Says Ryan trying to ignore Crocket’s rudeness “Then you get a bit older and it’s harder to keep on knocking it back.”
“No, it’s just that you’re a lightweight!” Says Crocket sniggering and looking at Phil for approval.
Ryan and Marcus exchange glances. Marcus can’t stand anyone having a pop at Ryan but him.
“Hey Phil” he calls “has this Chav lost his nought?”
“What?” spits Crocket suddenly losing his cockiness.
“Are you a cherry boy?” continues Marcus, his face contorted into a taunting scowl.
“NO, I’VE FUCKED LOADS OF BIRDS!” in an exasperated high pitched voice
“I’ve fucked loads of birds!” mimics Marcus “I don’t believe you, it don’t sound like your balls have dropped yet, go on sing us something Aled Jones!”
“Fuck off!”
Crocket is forced to laugh even though he can’t stand being ridiculed.
“He sounded like that bloke at school" says Phil “ What was his name? Trubshaw. He had something wrong with him, hole in the heart or something like that. It made him talk in a high-pitched voice. Marcus used to take the piss out of him. It was cruel but we were kids, we didn’t know any better. The kid used to sound that Beastie boys song ‘Sabotage’ the scream before it goes mental ‘Whoooooooooo!”
“ I used to go ‘Whooooo Trubshaw!”
“What did he say to you once?” says Ryan recalling the event through tears of laughter.
“He said ‘Fuck off Marcus you fucking cunt’ ” Says Marcus doing the impersonation.
“Whatever happened to Trubshaw?” asks Phil laughing.
“Oh” says Fat Dave awkwardly “He died.”
The van goes quiet. The sense of guilt comes over like a wave.
“I don’t believe it?” says Phil shaken by the news “Poor Trubshaw’s dead?”
“Nah, I’m bullshitting, He’s a driver for Argos!” blurts Fat Dave cracking up laughing.
His tormentors feel much relief.
“You cunt!” shouts Marcus “You had us all going then, you fat fucking arsehole!”
“Alright settle down” says Pilchard getting distracted by all the chaos going on around him “Ryan does have a point, when we get to Blackpool we are going straight out on the lash, I don’t want to have to wait around for you lot to have a little sleep first. So don’t get completely arseholed before we get there, eh?”
“You sound like a woman” says Phil although in agreement.
“My dad would approve of drinking at this hour. He has a beer with his breakfast” Says Fat Dave laughing.
“Your old man still a piss head?” asks Marcus rhetorically.
Ryan looks over at Fat Dave sympathetically, it’s a tragic story. His Dad was a fireman for decades but got implicated in a fraud that he had nothing to do with. He resigned and has hit the bottle hard ever since. Ryan can’t imagine having a father like him, his parents are far from big drinkers. In fact they have regularly accused him of being a piss artist. His mother’s favourite catchphrase is ‘I never thought I’d given birth to an alcoholic’. Despite the tragedy Fat Dave’s Dad has provided some comic moments over the years. When intoxicated he cannot stand Marcus to the point of violence. After Fat Dave told him about the BBQ incident with the incineration of the wooden table, his father made it his business to try and understand the mentality of such an act of stupidity. The next time he saw Marcus he famously asked him ‘Exactly what sort of daft arsehole are you son?’. When Marcus failed to provide an adequate response, Fat Dave’s dad repeated the question at the top of his drunken voice. Fat Dave’s dad also disgraced himself in front of his daughter-in-laws religious parents by exposing himself.
“I had a health check the other day, the nurse asked me how much I drank a week, I said that it depended on how much money I had!” Says Glen “I said I drank about 20 pints a week on average. She freaked ‘that’s too much’ she said and referred me for a blood and liver test. Thing was that I knocked 10 pints off the real figure!”
“If I had a medical examination, they would probably say I was dead what with all the drugs I take!” says Mark.
“What drugs do you take?” asks Ryan.
“You know the usual. Few pills, couple of lines every now and then.”
“I knew I was drinking a bit too much when my son’s first word was ‘Abi’” says Glen chuckling “We all couldn’t understand why he kept saying it, he didn’t come into contact with anyone called ‘Abi’. Then we noticed that he said it when he wanted a drink, ‘Abi, abi, abi’ he’d say pointing at his bottle. Then I realised that he was copying me because I came in every night and said ‘I need a beer’ and he thought all drinks are called beer or ‘Abi’ as he calls it!”
“I’ve been drinking too much as well" says Pilchard “A 24 case only lasts me a week” he pauses suddenly looking concerned “Hang on, that’s only 3 cans a night, get me a rah rah skirt!”
“Speaking of medical examinations, Marcus had one once and ended up getting fingered by the doctor" says Ryan laughing.
Vellacott winces at the memory.
“He had massive knuckles and Marcus thought his finger was all the way in but it was only up to the knuckle!”
“The cunt said to me “lean into it please” and the rest of his finger went in. Makes your eyes water I can tell you” says Marcus “Thanks for telling everyone by the way you prick!”
“Why did the doctor put his finger up your arse?” says Pilchard as he swerves the van dangerously around a corner.
“He had something in his eye!” says Phil sarcastically “Why do you think? They check the prostate, hey Marcus are you sure it was his finger?”
“You had your arse examined once didn’t you Phil?” says Pilchard
“No!” says Phil exasperated.
“Remember that time round Nan’s house? Her hallway was so narrow that you could put your back on one wall and walk up the other one. We used to see how high we could go up the wall? Remember?”
“Yeah, I do. Didn’t you….”
“One time he was right up the top and I crept up behind him and tickled his balls and he fell. The thing was that she had these large bolts on her letterbox that stuck out a long way. As he fell he caught his arse on one of these bolts and ripped it! I remember that you had to go to hospital!”
Everyone grimaces at the thought of it.
“What I don’t like about that story is the fact that you tickled his balls Pilchard" says Ryan “Did that sort of thing happen a lot? Bit of ball tickling? Mutual masturbation? Shut your eyes you wouldn’t notice the difference? That type of extension to the concept of brotherly love?”
“Kiss my arse!” shouts Phil.
There is the sound of bottles banging together as Mark distributes the beer. Pilchard holds his hand out for one.
“Fuck off, you’re driving!” snaps Phil.
“I can have ONE!” Protests Pilchard
“You ain’t, what if the law see you knocking back a bottle of beer? We’d get pulled over.”
“Yeah but I’d be under the limit, a drink is a drink. It‘s only when you have a lot that it‘s a problem. Before then it‘s just a drink that happens to have alcohol in it.”
“You ain’t having one, there’s a can of lemonade if you’re thirsty but no beer till we get there.”
“Anyone been to Blackpool before?” asks Fat Dave
“I went there once on a school trip" says Crocket
“Earlier this year was it?” snaps Marcus much to everyone’s amusement. Crocket shoots him a look that could pop a balloon.
“I’ve been there a few times" says Mark “It’s a great place to go clubbing and there are shit loads of pubs.”
“I heard that northern women are really easy to pull" says Pilchard “All you do is stand behind them and put your hand up their skirt.”
“ Is that right chap? Then you get a stiletto in your eye socket!” laughs Mark.
“Are there plenty of lap dancing clubs?” asks Glen shifting in his seat.
“What do you think?” says Mark smiling “I know of at least three descent ones with absolutely top quality birds working there.”
“We’ll definitely have to go to a lap dancing club!” says Crocket shifting in his seat.
“If we do, you’re going to have to keep your fucking mouth shut about it” says Phil firmly “If your sister finds out, I’m a dead man. You understand?”
“What happens in Blackpool stays in Blackpool, Right?” says Pilchard
“Right” replies Crocket.
Phil turns round to look at the rest of the party.
“RIGHT?” he demands.
“RIGHT” they all chime as one.
“Good” says Phil determinedly.
_______________
Meanwhile Karen Morgan is preparing to leave the house she shares with Ryan Squires. She is opening and shutting draws in a bad mood because she can’t find her mobile phone charger, she is in a bad mood because judging by the tightness of her skirt she’s put on more weight and she’s in a bad mood because she is about to play the daily “Avoid the neighbour” game. The 300-yard walk to her job with a company that import and sell table-football games is littered with time and energy draining obstacles. Their middle terrace house is located in Castle Street, a quiet road afflicted with the most Annoying neighbours she has ever known. They are sandwiched between a demanding deaf and dumb pensioner and a junk hoarding three-wheel car obsessed Santa Claus look-alike.
However, the most consistently irritating neighbour of all lives three doors down. In his early eighties with his unbuttoned brightly coloured shirts worn over a dirty vest Eddie Reed resembles a Sicilian Mafioso boss. He stands on his doorstep smoking endless roll ups keeping an eye on the street. Nothing should happen down his street without him knowing about it. His speciality is: Things that are out of the ordinary. Like a lot of pensioners, after a lifetime of being governed by the clock instead of living free he regiments his life into an even tighter regime. He goes shopping every Tuesday morning without fail. It is the only time that he uses his recent model Skoda. If people are not where they usually are at the times they usually are, then he needs to know why. His ears are trained to detect the sound of front doors and green wheelie bin lids being opened. You have only got to be out there for a few seconds before he has motored down his garden and is talking to you. His favourite day is Wednesday, Dustbin day. Every one of his neighbours has to show themselves, those who defy him get a neighbourly knock on the door to remind them to put their bin out. It can’t be good for a man his age to be standing propped in the doorway for hours on end. Like a geriatric spider sitting in his web he tries to entrap passers by into inane conversations about the weather or to ask some prying question that’s none of his business. Karen loathes him. She has a heart, she knows that he’s lonely but why doesn’t he join an old peoples club or something? When she leaves the house he’s there. When she returns, he’s there. Ryan calls him “omni-present”. Even when she is inside the house she can still hear his deep rumbling voice as he bothers some other poor sod. He can’t even get her name right. Karen closes the front door behind her quietly but doesn’t even get as far as the gate before the old dickhead starts talking to her.
“All right….Claire?” he says scratching his head through his thick black hair ““There was a load of noise this morning, you must have heard it?”
“No, didn’t hear a thing, what sort of noise?”
“Car horn it was, no, a van of blokes it was“
Karen shakes her head and turns to go.
“ I won another tenner on the lottery last night!”
Typical, she thought, that annoying old git is always boasting about winning money on the lottery. She has won jackshit. His sort always win. You always get some scummer wining the jackpot and the first thing they do is buy their house off of the council in the depressed area they live in. If she won the jackpot she wouldn’t be living in fucking Suttondale. Eddie scratches his arse.
“Looks like rain today doesn’t it?”
She resists the urge to tell him to fuck off and smiles at him.
“Yes, it does look a bit threatening” she replies looking at the sky.
“I hope you’ve got your brolly with you!” he booms chuckling like he’s said something really amusing.
She turns her head and walks away because when he laughs it dislodges his top set of false teeth. It makes her feel sick. And he doesn’t wear underpants; the equally nosey old bag they call the ’silver fox’ that lives next door to him told Karen that she never sees underpants hanging on his washing line. But his most disgusting feature is the long moist candle of snot that descends unnoticed from his bulbous nose. Once aware of its presence, probably when it extinguishes his cigarette, it is either wiped with his sleeve or retracted with a denture-dislodging sniff. To think that pensioners get a heating allowance from the government and there’s him with his front door open all day. She knows the trouble with this street; too many council tenants. Sitting on their fat arses all day getting free handouts while she’s working her guts out. Who’s the mug? Their house is the only one in the terrace that isn’t council. This is noticeable straight away as it is the only house in the terrace that doesn’t have brand new windows. This sticks in her craw. A lot.
She makes a right turn and doesn’t fucking believe it. The silver fox and Mum Mum are standing on the corner of Castle Street.
“Karen, Karen, Did you hear all that noise this morning?”
“What noise?”
“A beeping horn, whoever it was had no respect for the people who have to live down this street. Woke up the whole street it did. We’ll apart from Cynthia but only because she’s deaf. It was a blue mini-bus" says the Silver fox looking at Karen accusingly “Eddie Reed saw your Ryan getting into it, Do you anything about this?”
“Sorry, I’m late for work” says Karen irritably and continues on her way
Silver Fox looks at Mum Mum in amazement “Well?” she says mouth hanging open.
_________________
“Where do you work, if you don’t mind me asking?” says Glen politely
“COUNCIL WORKERS!” shouts Vellacott.
“We work for the council" adds Ryan “In an office not on the bins or at the dump, we don’t like getting our hands dirty.”
“What about you… Crocket?” asks Glen.
“I work in a tile shop.”
“Right” Glen says unable to think of anything to say about that under whelming fact “What about you boys?” he says turning to Fat Dave and Jason.
“I’m a stockbroker" says Jason “Bonds, trusts and securities.”
“I work in a bank, not very interesting really” says Fat Dave shrugging his shoulders.
“What about you driver? Can I call you ‘Pilchard’?”
“Don’t ask or you’ll get a fucking horror story" says Marcus bracing himself
“I work at Ledzers, the sugar factory. We have a few accidents every now and then.”
“Every now and then?” spits Phil “Every bloody week you’re telling me about some poor bastard getting crushed or decapitated. What was it last time?”
“One of the fitters went to investigate why one of the belts had stopped. He found a cardboard box had got caught in it but he didn’t isolate it. He yanked the box out and the belt started moving catching his overalls in it. Lost his right arm.”
“Bloody hell!” says Mark.
“Worse one we had happened a couple of years ago. A new lad was changing a cylinder but he had the pressure all wrong. As he took the first rivet out the lid came flying at him like a bullet. Caved in his head.”
“Did he die?” asks Ryan.
“Not at first but he fell two hundred feet off the gantry. They found the lid from the Cylinder three hundred yards away!” Pilchard seems to love telling these stories and presents the information as if it was all a big hoot. Maybe it’s a coping mechanism, knowing it could easily happen to him.
“And you boys all met at school?” Says Glen not wanting to hear anymore Ledzer sugar factory tales.
“That’s right" says Ryan.
“Which one?”
“Toby Woodley.”
“Woodley wankers eh? I went to Suttondale secondary in town.” Says Glen remembering the old rivalry.
“Suttondale ain’t ‘capable’" Sings Phil “Remember that insult? The worst accusation that anyone could make at school was that you were not ‘capable’."
“Capable of what?” asks Mark.
“Capable of producing semen” Says Ryan “It was around the age of sexual maturity, about thirteen years old and blokes were managing their first wanks. You would hate it when someone said that you weren’t capable but only because you wasn’t yet!”
“You still ain’t!” Yells Phil predictably.
Pilchard guns the Van down the slip road to the motorway.
“Look at this" laughs Glen handing Mark his mobile. The sound of groaning and orgasmic sounds are heard generating much interest.
“Porno?” asks Phil.
“I prefer to call it ‘Action romance’ but yes” Says Glen handing the phone to him.
A naked blonde is giving head to a black man whose penis resembles a drainpipe.
“Bloody hell” says Phil.
“Let me see" says Pilchard.
“Keep your eyes on the fucking road will you!” snaps Phil holding the phone out of his sight.
He and Crocket crowd around the phone. The girl is deep-throating the drainpipe dick, as she takes it out of her mouth her throat makes a sickening choking noise. Her mascara is running so much from the watering eyes that she looks like Alice Cooper. She gasps for air clearly in discomfort. “ I love how that feels" She lies.
“She loves not being able to breathe apparently!” says Phil.
“Isn’t that Arizona Meadow?” Says Ryan replaying the clip.
Marcus takes a look “No, looks like her but it aint.”
“It fucking is her, you should recognise her, she’s your favourite porn star!”
“Arizona Meadow IS my favourite porn star, that’s why I know that isn’t her mate!”
“That porno I’ve got ’American cum swallowers 4’ Arizona Meadow is in that aint she? She‘s the one in the double penetration scene.”
“No, you’re thinking of one of mine, ‘Hot and horny 2’ she takes three cocks in that film, one in each hole.”
“That’s it, I always get those two films mixed up”
“Porn on mobile phones, who would have thought it?” muses Fat Dave “Kids today don’t know they’re born when it comes to porn. When we was kids the only time you would see porn was if you found a stash of mags in the woods, and they were already well thumbed.”
“Well cummmed!” corrects Phil.
“Remember some of them had a black sticker over the action that you could peel off?” says Pilchard reminiscing.
“I had to smuggle some porn back from Sweden once” Says Fat Dave “I had two porno DVD’s down the back of my trousers as we walked through customs. I was shitting myself, then this bloke I was with shouted out that I had porn in my pants, I nearly shit myself but I didn’t get stopped thank fuck!”
“Was the porn you smuggled any good?” asks Mark.
“Yeah it was but I made the mistake of lending it and I never got it back”
“Rule number one” says Ryan “NEVER lend porn, unless you’ve got the keys to the bloke’s house and you can repossess it if necessary.”
“Now you can get it on the Internet for free. No hassle at all.” Says Fat Dave wincing as Pilchard narrowly misses rear-ending a coach.
“I think that’s how broadband was invented so you can download porn faster” Says Jason “Porn is responsible for a lot of inventions, take the ‘A-B’ button on the DVD remote control. You press it to repeat five seconds of action. Why would you want to do that? I’ll tell you: Cum shots that’s why. When else would you press that button?”
“You got broadband yet, Ryan?” asks Phil.
“No.”
“Dial-up takes ages, why don’t you get Broadband?” asks Jason.
“I don’t need it, by the time I’ve locked the door, drawn the blinds and got the hand-cream out, it’s there! My computer is in my dining room, as you sit on the computer chair, the dining room window is to your left. Before we had the blinds the people in the houses overlooking our garden thought I was a midget with Parkinson’s!”
All laugh, although Pilchard doesn’t get it.
“Actually I don’t get it” he says changing lane without indicating.
“He kneels down in front of the computer and has a wank” says Phil “Get it?”
“Remember that really, really shit porno? The one where the dialogue sounds like it was translated from English to German, into Dutch then back into English?” says Marcus.
“How could I forget?” says Ryan “(In exaggerated German accent) I was alone with my friend Hans and two local girls. Hans decided that he was going to fuck her in the mouth..”
“..And then fucked her in the arse, then up the cunt” adds Marcus also doing the voice.
“What was that porno called?” asks Pilchard.
“Castle extreme” Says Ryan “You seen it?”
“No, Can’t say I have.”
“How’s my Porn collection Ryan, you looking after it?”
“Yeah it’s all in good wanking order.”
“Why has Ryan got your crud collection?” says Pilchard changing lanes and cutting up a white Van in the process.
“When I moved in with Julie she found my porno collection and threw a proper wobbler, so I told her I’d binned it but I gave it to Ryan for safe keeping.”
“BLOODY HELL!” shouts Marcus “WHERE DOES IT END? Any Woman that won’t let her bloke watch porn is making a rod for her own back because supply cannot possibly meet demand. So you’ve done what she asked you, you’ve got rid of your porn collection, but is she giving it to so much that you don’t need to wank? Or are you like Ryan and hardly ever get a fuck?”
Crocket, Ryan and Phil bristle at this accusation. Luckily Fat Dave comes to the rescue.
“That’s an interesting point Marcus but before we call other people’s sex lives into question, shouldn’t we first examine yours? Just how long has it been since you last dipped your wick?”
Marcus squirms, trying to find some way of defending his terrible record. Ryan loves this. All eyes are on Marcus.
“The last bird I saw you with looked like the singer from Knickleback and that was about four years ago” Adds Fat Dave piling on the much deserved agony.
“O.K, O.K” he says throwing his arms in the air “Five years.”
Everyone erupts into mocking cackling laughter. Marcus looks out of the window feeling pretty stupid.
“It’s a fact of life that women go off sex” Says Ryan “When you first get together you fuck constantly but after a few years it peters off.”
“I don’t have that problem" says Glen “My bird Sarah wants it all the time. We do it in the morning before work then I get texts about it at work then we do it some more at night” He looks at Ryan with a smug taunting expression on his blubbery face.
“My mate Tony has lived with his bird for years and they went to Ibiza and he fucked her twenty nine times” adds Pilchard unhelpfully.
This is typical macho bullshit bravado, thinks Ryan. Life is about creating a façade of bullshit. ‘ I AM HAPPY, I DO NOT WORRY, I CAN COPE IN ANY SITUATION, I DO NOT FEEL FEAR, I HAVE NO MONEY PROBLEMS, I AM NEVER DEPRESSED, MY LIFE IS PERFECT’. This is the person they want you to see. The front they project to keep up the bravado. They want you to be jealous of a lie.
Suddenly a cacophony of drum and bass fills the van.
“Shit, that’s my mobile" says Mark rooting around in his pocket “S’cuse me boys. Y’ello? Oh hi babe, you O.K?………..What’s the matter?……Calm down, I can’t understand you………….Hang on, WHAT? Coming to Blackpool? Did you say you’re coming to Blackpool? Why? Hey, don’t get me wrong, I’d love to see you but it’s a Boys weekend, babe. A stag do, I wouldn’t have much time to see you babe .. How would you be getting to Blackpool then?… by train? How much is that going to cost you?…….I don’t know the name of the hotel….I don’t……Hang on” Mark puts his hand over the phone very flustered “Sorry boys, what’s the name of the hotel we’re staying in?”
“New Roses” replies Pilchard.
“It’s called New Roses babe.”
“HANG ON” Snaps Phil “WHY IS YOUR BIRD COMING TO BLACKPOOL?”
“She’s in a state, she’s getting a train to Blackpool.”
“Mate, I aint being funny but it’s my stag do, I don’t really want any Yoko Ono’s along for the ride, talk her out of it” says Phil assertively.
“Babe, It really isn’t cool for you to come along, I really thing you should….Hang on, have you run out of gear?…are you out of pills, is that why you want to see me?.…. Hello? She’s hung up on me the stupid bitch!”
“Sorry mate” says Phil “It’s my last weekend of freedom, I just don’t want it spoilt by birds turning up and wanting to go shopping.”
“Do you think she’ll get on a train to Blackpool?” asks Ryan.
“No, she’s just out of her head on pills. She’ll ring me back later when she’s calmed down a bit. Trouble is that I think she’s in love with me but to me she’s just a bit of fun. She’s turning into a bunny boiler to be honest. Getting too clingy for my liking, I think I’ll have to ankle her soon.”
“Ankle her?” asks Marcus.
“Yeah, Get rid of her, tell her where to go, dump her. I don’t want her to boil my bunny mate.”
“And this is the bird you’re taking to my wedding? I don’t want her causing a scene" says Phil imagining what Julie will say.
“I’m not taking her, I’m taking Lisa my regular bird.”
“Who’s this other bird then?”
“My bit on the side, the bunny boiling pill queen.”
“So you think she’s obsessed with you and can’t bear to be apart from you for a two days?” Says Glen sarcastically.
“I hope not, I’m hoping that its just pills she wants but I’m probably wrong.”
“Wait a minute, if it’s pills she wants and she wants to meet up with you, that means you must have some on you, Is that right?” says Phil eyes blazing.
“No mate, I’m clean” Says Mark unconvincingly.
“SWEAR ON YOUR MOTHERS LIFE!” Shouts Phil.
“O.k. I admit it, I have got a small stash with me” Says Mark shrugging his shoulders as if he was talking about sherbet lemons.
“What if we get pulled over?”
“We won’t get pulled over" says Pilchard confidently.
“NO? Is that right? You’ve been breaking the speed limit since we left and we’re pretty conspicuous in this fucked up van, Jesus, I’m not happy about this.”
“I’m a good driver, I’ve only got three points on my licence and that was a stitch up, I was only doing 25 miles per hour!?”
Phil rolls his eyes “You love telling that hard luck story, ‘I was only doing 25 miles an hour’ but it doesn’t matter how slow you’re going when you jump the lights, mate.”
“What pills have you got?” asks Crocket.
“Clauserdrine” replies Mark.
“How much do you want for one?”
“No charge, Chap, be my guest”
“OI, YOU AINT FUCKING TAKING ANY DRUGS, IF ANYTHING HAPPENS, IT WILL BE MY FAULT! ” screams Phil.
“I’ll do what I want!” snaps Crocket “I’ve had pills before, many times.”
“Have you? Does your sister know?”
“Don’t care if she does” says Crocket defiantly “Drugs aint that much different from booze anyway.”
“Bollocks!” says Phil “You know where you are with drink, if you drink too much, you puke, but drugs? You don’t know what’s in those pills. You could take one and die, simple as. What the fuck is this Clauserdrine stuff anyway, Elephant tranquiliser?”
“Something like that” Says Mark softly.
“Pot is pretty safe” says Pilchard nearly ramming a breaking Lexus “It chills people out. They don‘t want to fight like they do when they‘re drunk.”
“Yeah but long term, you don’t know what it’s going to do to you” argues Phil “At the end of the day there’s a reason why drugs are illegal and drink aint.”
“Me and Marcus have never touched drugs but it does seem that we’re in the minority” says Ryan “I think I’m going it a bit if I smoke a cigarette when I’m drunk!”
“That’s because you’re a pussy” says Crocket tauntingly.
Here we go again, thinks Ryan. Crocket gets a dig in at every opportunity. “Hey Mark, If your bit on side does come to Blackpool, I don’t know where she’ll stay?” says Pilchard “We’re already five to a room as it is!”
Phil glares at him, he hopes against hope that no one heard him say it.
“Five to a room?” says Ryan “No one told me we were five to a room! What’s going on?”
“Well, I had entrusted the hotel booking to my brother and best man and to cut a long story short, he didn’t do it. Julie rang round loads of hotels but there is a big ballroom dancing competition on at the moment and every room is full. So she could only find us two rooms in a guest house a little out of town.”
“How far is a ‘little’ out of town?” says Glen suspiciously.
“Short cab ride, not far at all.”
“So each room has got five single beds in it?” asks Fat Dave.
“Not exactly, each room has a sofa bed, bunk beds and a double bed”
“That means two of us will have to share a double bed!” asks Marcus nervously.
“That should be a treat for you and Ryan!” says Pilchard.
“And for Phil and Pilchard, they can tickle each others balls all night” shouts Ryan.
“Look on the bright side” Says Pilchard “It’s going to save us a packet. It would have cost a fortune to have a room each!”
“What if someone gets lucky?” says Glen.
“You’ll have to fuck her in the van” says Phil.
“Hey, I’ve just thought of something" says Jason “If his bit on the side does turn up, she can sleep where Matt Tyler would have.”
“Mate, We don’t want any birds on this trip!” Says Phil wearily “Tell you what, if she does turn up, we’ll give her and Mark the double bed and we can all lay awake listening to them fuck, like the sound out that?” he adds sarcastically.
“I do!” says Mark
“However, the fact that Matt Tyler hasn’t turned up does mean that only two of us have to sleep in a double bed, we can thank him for that” Says Phil.
Ryan pulls out his phone, a look of disbelief registering on his face “My fucking phone has been ringing my pocket again! How much credit has been spunked this time?”
“Why don’t you lock it?” says Fat Dave in a bored condescending manner.
“I DO fucking lock it! But the lock comes off so fucking easily, I did twenty quid in the other day when the fucking thing decided to ring my home number and leave a twenty minute message consisting of nothing but the rustling of my trouser pocket!”
“Get yourself a better phone mate” sniffs Glen stating the obvious.
Phil turns to the others with a look of guilt “Do you ever check your phone when you’re saying something dodgy about someone in case you‘ve accidentally ringing them at the same time?“
This question is answered by a burst of agreement by all.
“I do it all the fucking time!” says Mark “I start slagging someone off or saying something that could get me in trouble and the next thing I’m checking me phone before I say anything else!”
“WHO FARTED?” Shouts Marcus screwing his face up “IT SMELLS DISCUSTING!”
“I can’t smell anything" says Fat Dave sniffing the air “Oh wait, now I can, FUCKING HELL!”
Ryan busts up laughing, satisfied with his handiwork.
_______________
The heaters have packed up again and the mouldy demountable is freezing. Karen looks at the large pile of invoices in her in-tray and bores holes in the empty chair of Samantha Michaels. She’s off sick again. You can get away with murder when you’re the boss’s niece. She would so love to tell them that their beloved Sam is a druggy. In a small town like this everyone knows everyone’s business. Karen’s hairdresser told her that Sam was a chronic pillhead with an escalating cocaine problem. This is a small firm with only four office staff, how can they tolerate such absenteeism? When Sam pulled a sickie in effect it left Karen with all the work. Sure, there are two other office girls Barbara and Mary but they hardly pulled their weight. Instead they acted like best mates then slagged each other off behind each other’s backs. Both in their mid fifties all they talked about was their pets, their gardens and their health problems.
They both are afflicted with terrible laughs. Barb’s is a fake laugh that manifests itself in a loud explosion as if she has said the most amusing thing in the history of comedy. Whereas Mary has a nervous laugh that is characterised by a slow wavering sound like a challenged person impersonating a ghost.
Karen liked them as people but as colleagues, they left a lot to be desired producing sloppy, lazy and plodding work that ignored the ever-present deadlines. Sam worked hard when she was there but that wasn’t very often. She irritated Karen with her mood swings, either friendly and chatty or silently morose. She clearly takes drugs at work, she returns from the toilet in a drastically improved mood and talks erratically with wide staring eyes. She also smokes pot before work some days because she arrives with eyes like bee stings. The hairdresser said that Sam has been on drugs ever since she started seeing Mark, a local small time drug dealer. The directors of the company Rick and Linda Michaels feel sorry for Sam and her back problems after she fell from a horse as a teenager. Sam’s mum suspects that she is on something, it would explain the rows, but doesn’t want to believe it. Ryan met Sam once when he and Karen bumped into her in the supermarket. After hearing about her nightmare colleague for so long he was bowled over by the exotic creature with the porn star body. He immediately had a new ‘four tissue fantasy’ as Vellacot would say.
Linda Michaels runs the show, Rick plays at being a company director, often cutting his working day short to cycle to the Half Moon pub which is by the river to drink with his cronies. A tall thin 42 year old with his digital watch, haircut and clothes he is stylistically stuck in the 1980’s. Linda has an attractive face but the next thing you notice is the size of her arse. It’s huge, like a horse. She is moody and very blunt. A control freak that works excessive hours and has to personally oversee the operation. If she does take a holiday she telephones 10 times a day checking that things are being done properly, from Florida. Although it would seem that foreign holidays are a thing of the past now that they have recently purchased two huge Alsatians called Drax and Thor. The two oversized drooling demolition experts are regularly brought into the office where they make a general nuisance of themselves. So far they have crapped in the warehouse, terrified the postman and eaten Barb’s gloves.
________________
“One time I was working in South London, helping a mate out” Says Glen making sure he’s got everyone’s attention “We went into this snooker hall for a beer. We were about to put our money in the table when this cocky little geezer comes over and tells us they operate a ‘winner stays on policy’. My mate tells him that their policy doesn’t apply to him and if he knew what was good for him, he wouldn’t say anymore about it. Well, this fucking geezer only goes and pushes my mate, which a stupid thing to do to a bloke with a short fuse and a snooker cue in his hand. Next thing I know the geezer is laying on the snooker table holding his head. My mate has hit him with the cue, not too hard, just enough to stun him. Well, suddenly all these other blokes appear, about five of them, and they start running over. Luckily there are a couple of bouncers there to intervene, one bouncer grabs this gobby cunt with ginger hair in an arm-lock and the other bouncer blocks their path. Well, the cunt with the ginger hair is threatening all sorts, he‘s going to kill us and all that bullshit. As we head for the door I give this ginger prick in the arm-lock one in the nose. Blood everywhere there was. He weren’t expecting that. We make it outside and the bouncers block the doors so the others can’t get after us. There we are running down the street to the motor and we look behind us and the door to the snooker hall is nearly being knocked off it’s hinges as the mob are trying to get out. Suddenly the bouncers can’t hold them back any longer and they all spill into the street. We’ve made it to the car but it’s a real old banger and it won’t fucking start. All these geezers are bearing down on us and my mate is pumping the clutch and turning the key like mad. Anyway just in the knick of time, it starts and he slams it into reverse nearly running these cunts over and we speed off. A real close one, I tell you!”
Everyone seems to have enjoyed this story, especially Crocket and Pilchard who howl will excited laughter. Phil looks at the monotonous motorway landscape rush by and begins to wonder if inviting Glen was such a good idea. Glen has many entertaining stories like this but there is a massive difference between hearing tales like these and being involved in them. Who knows what trouble Glen could land them in? Pilchard and Crocket don’t need much encouragement to kick off at the best of times, what sort of bad influence will Glen have on them? His concerns are immediately confirmed.
“We had a bit of bother the other day” Says Crocket proudly “We were outside at club at the end of the night and this lairy bird comes up and starts on my mate Lee. She’s right off her face, accusing him of all sorts and threatening to have him done over. Lee is protesting his innocence but she’s having none of it. Next thing we know, my mate Gav has smacked her one in the face. It was pretty funny to see her suddenly realise she wasn’t going to get away with giving us lot grief!”
“That’s bang out of order, you shouldn’t brag about doing shit like that” Says Glen looking at the others disapprovingly.
Crocket stops sniggering and sulks for a while. However, the scorn generated by Crocket’s inappropriate story has not had the desired effect on everyone. Pilchard swerves violently around a green Honda making everyone hold on for dear life “One day at the sugar factory..” he says laughing to himself seemingly oblivious of how bad his driving is.
“Oh for fucks sake! Not another bloody Ledzer story!” snaps Marcus rolling his eyes,
“At least we know he’s still awake” chortles Fat Dave
“Fuck off you lot, One day at the sugar factory I see this bloke Harris wearing my high-vis jacket, I knew it was my jacket because what was written on the back”
“Cunt?” Interrupts Phil
“Bollocks! Anyway it had ’The Duke’ written on the back of the jacket, so I knew it was mine”
Everyone erupts into a fit of howling laughter.
“What?” says Pilchard looking hurt “That’s what everyone calls me!”
Phil looks at him exasperated “Why exactly?”
“You know, because of the John Wayne connection.”
People are laughing so hard that they are choking. Pilchard is not happy “Fuck off I’m not going to tell you now.”
“Good” manages Marcus giving Ryan a stinging high five “We don’t want to hear another fucking accident story you bug eyes cunt! No one calls you ’The Duke’ you are called and will ALWAYS be called PILCHARD!”
A sickening slamming on the brakes settles everyone down. Marcus howls in pain as his knee connects with the seat in front. Pilchard angrily swerves around a silver Volvo estate.
“Motherfucker!” he yells giving the bewildered driver the finger.
“Alright, tell your story, we’re all sorry for taking the piss out of you” placates Phil “We just didn‘t know that they called you that at work, now carry on with your story about that bloke who put your high visibility jacket on, what was his name?”
Pilchard ignores him at first then like an arsey kid he mumbles “Harris”.
He looks in the rear view mirror and sees that all eyes are silently on him again.
“Harris had my jacket on and he was up the roof of the beater house. I shouted up to give it back but he wouldn’t so I climbed up onto the roof of the beater house and said ‘If you don’t give me my jacket back Harris, I’ll throw you off the roof’. He starts mouthing off so I grabs him by the collar and drag him over to the edge of the roof. He soon gave me my jacket back, I can tell you!”
Phil turns to his brother with a look of contempt on his face “Hang on a second, If you had thrown him off the roof he would have been killed right?”
“Yeah, the beater house is third tallest roof at the factory.”
Phil can‘t believe his ears “So what you’re saying is that you were prepared to kill a man just because he was wearing your fucking jacket?”
Pilchard looks sheepish but then regains his cocky persona “Yeah, I would of said that it was an accident.”
“But even if you had got away with it, YOU would have always known that you killed someone over nothing, I can’t believe that you were prepared to do that, you need fucking help, I’m serious, you need, what do they call it? Anger management, that‘s what you need!”
Pilchard starts rummaging under his seat “I need a fucking sandwich, that’s for sure”.
He produces a sandwich in a plastic packet and devotes all of attention on the task of opening it.
“I wouldn’t eat that after touching that manky steering wheel” Says Jason cringing at the thought.
“Eh?”
“There’s more germs on a steering wheel than on a toilet seat.”
“Still got the hygiene phobia?” Says Ryan “He used to wash his hands a hundred times a day at school.”
“After each wank” Sneers Marcus.
“It’s not a phobia, it’s a fact. We pick up a huge amount of germs from communal items like door handles, banisters and steering wheels” adds Jason eager to make his point “Unless you wash your hands before eating you transfer those germs straight into your mouth. This van is a real old clapped out piece of shit. You think of all those filthy hands that have been all over that steering wheel. ”
Pilchard turns to face him and takes a massive taunting bite out the sandwich.
Jason shudders “Well, don’t blame me when you’re on the toilet all day tomorrow.”
Pilchard is still looking over his shoulder taunting Jason. Suddenly all his passengers start screaming. Pilchard turns round to see that the traffic has come to a halt in front of them. He slams on the breaks, the van lurching violently from side to side. Phil thinks that this is it. The back of the van starts to slide out and for a second it looks like it’s going to tip over. Bottles and bags fly in all directions. After a terrifying few seconds they come to halt a foot away from a Vectra.
They look at each other in shocked silence. Glen is the first to speak.
“Now, it should be obvious to you now Pilchard that you really should keep your fucking eyes on the road can you make sure you do that eh?”
“You could of killed us you idiot!” spits Phil “I’m getting bloody married next week. We could have all been dead!”
“Look at the fucking long black tyre marks the road!” says Fat Dave looking out of the back window chuckling nervously.
Pilchard is shaking with adrenalin, he looks the others in disbelief “I’ve dropped me fucking sandwich!"
“Serves you right chap” says Mark “I feel like I‘ve been on the fucking hearts and diamonds!”
There is a few minutes of silence as everyone comes to terms with their near death experience. The traffic slowly starts moving again. Crocket is fiddling with the radio. It’s fucked. All he can get is the sound of white noise and snippets of distorted music.
“Could you pull the aerial up mate?” he asks Pilchard.
Pilchard winds the window down and tries to find it. His fingers find sharp jagged metal where the aerial used to be.
“Fuck!” he yells “Forget it, it’s gone.”
“There’s a cassette player. Anyone got any tapes?” asks Crocket turning the radio off.
“I’ve got some CD’s with me” shouts Jason
“Well they aint much good mate” snaps Phil “We aint got a CD player”
“You can use those CD’s as a mirror, to look at your pointed little head” says Marcus.
“Hey, there’s a tape in the glove box!” says Phil as if he had found a bar of gold “It doesn’t say what’s on it.”
“Put it on then!” shouts Marcus exasperated.
Phil slams it in the player and turns up the volume. The sound of eastern European folk music comes at them through the bass heavy sound system.
Fat Dave starts doing an exaggerated dance. Everyone copies him. They piss themselves laughing.
“Hey we should have brought the Bastard Squad tape with us!” says Ryan
“Yeah! We should have!” moans Phil genuinely upset at this oversight
“We don’t need it, turn that shit off, we can have Bastard squad karaoke" Says Ryan rising to his feet, he begins to sing in a tuneless high pitched voice” WE….ARE….THE…BASTARD SQUAD!”
Marcus, Phil and Pilchard sing along lustily.
“WE….ARE….THE…BASTARD SQUAD,
WE’LL KICK YOU IN THE CODS,
WE ARE THE BASTARD SQUAD,
WE’RE HERE TO STAY,
WE ARE THE BASTARD SQUAD,
AAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRR!!”
“What the fuck is the Bastard squad?” asks Crocket.
“The best band in THE FUCKING WORLD!” screams Phil.
“That’s not strictly true" laughs Pilchard “It was Phil, Ryan and Marcus’s band at college, they were shit!”
“Kiss my arse!”
“Whatever bitch, Listen guys, We’ll stop at this service station to fill up" says Pilchard.
“Shall we have a whip round for petrol money?” says Phil red in the face from booze “How much each? Fiver? Tenner?”
“Fiver each should do it" says Pilchard.
Everyone starts rummaging around for money.
“You’ll have to put in for me” Says Marcus to Ryan “I aint got any money on me.”
Fucking typical, thinks Ryan, Marcus is like a fucking woman.
“I don’t know about of any of you but I’m glad we’re stopping I need a piss?” Says Glen yawning.
All are in agreement. The petrol money is handed to Phil, who proceeds to count it suspiciously.
“He doesn’t trust us!” laughs Mark.
“Bloody right I don’t!” shouts Phil.
They fly up the motorway off ramp. Pilchard doesn’t attempt to slow down gently. Instead he slams on the brakes again sending dozens of empty beer bottles crashing everywhere. Everyone hangs on for dear life. They come to a halt in front of a convoluted sign directing traffic to the shop/toilets and petrol station. Pilchard floors it around the corner.
“You’ve missed the turn off for the toilets, you tosser!” Shouts Marcus.
“I haven’t!” Protests Pilchard.
“Yes you have, that was the entrance to the restaurant and toilets, We’re going straight to the petrol station after that it’s just the exit back to the motorway you chump!”
“Fucking hell, they don’t make it very clear do they?” says Pilchard angrily “Can we get back to the toilets?”
“No, we’ll have to walk over from the petrol station" says Ryan.
They pull up on the forecourt and join the queue for the pumps.
“Check out the bird in the blue Mondeo.” says Glen.
“Where?” says Ryan standing up and looking in all directions, subtle as a brick as usual.
“Over there, at pump 3. Tall brunette.”
“Sit down, she’ll see us you cunt” barks Marcus.
“Oh yeah, I see her, LOOK AT THAT FUCKING ARSE!”
The girl sees the occupants of the mini-bus checking her out. She looks away displeased.
“She’s giving us the cold shoulder!” says Fat Dave
Mark squints at her “I suspect she’s just playing hard to get!"
“I think I got a little smile then!” says Glen.
“She was looking at me!” snaps Mark.
“What do you think it takes?” asks Pilchard.
“Eh?” replies Phil.
“Do you think it takes unleaded, or leaded or diesel for that matter?”
“You don’t know, FUCKING HELL! Another thing you’ve neglected to find out!”
“I reckon it’s unleaded” Says Fat Dave.
“Wait, wait, wait we can’t take a chance!” Spits Phil “If we put the wrong juice in, it will fuck the engine up!”
“Maybe there’s a manual in the glove box?” says Jason.
Phil checks, there isn’t.
They pull up next to the pumps.
“Ask them in the kiosk” says Ryan.
“I’ll look a cunt” pleads Pilchard.
“If you put the wrong fuel in you’ll be the biggest cunt who ever drew breath, I’ll ask them!” says Phil clearly pissed off “If you want something done, you’ve got to do it yourself” he opens the door and storms off towards the kiosk.
Pilchard gets out and unlocks the petrol cap. He is relieved to see a faded green unleaded sticker next to it.
“HEY PHIL! IT’S O.K IT SAYS HERE IT’S UNLEADED” From inside the van it is noted how comically Phil is walking. He has this lopsided gait as if he was trying out a false leg. He stops walking towards the kiosk says something to Pilchard and then walks back towards the van.
“It’s a long way over to the toilet, I can’t be arsed walking over there” says Marcus sliding the door open.
Everyone gets out unsteadily. Their legs are stiff from inactivity. The walk to the nearest toilet is indeed 100 yards away that is if you can survive crossing the busy and very dangerous roads. Ryan looks for any bushes but it’s a tree-less wasteland.
“Hey, we can piss behind that wall over the |
