by Ian Todd
10.00 PM
“Danny, c’mere,” Charlie Hastie growled, calling Danny Murphy across tae the door. “Go and get Peter The Plant and nip up tae that greasy basturt’s flat and get him doon here, fucking pronto. Whit a fucking embarrassment. Big Pat’s came aw the way fae Spain, at great risk, and that grease-ball Atalian cunt, who’s jist roond the corner, cannae manage five fucking minutes ae his time?”
“Aye, nae bother, Charlie. Whit if he refuses?”
“Eh?”
“Whit if the greasy basturt tells me he’s no coming?”
“If that oily faced basturt refuses tae come roond here tae thank Pat and Bob personally fur springing that spastic, mute-faced, retarded haufwit ae a psychopathic mutant mate ae his fae Saughton, then shoot the basturt where he’s staunin.”
“Seriously?”
“Dae Ah look as if Ah’m fucking kidding?” he snarled.
10.05 PM
The dark van’s heidlights suddenly blinked oot as it slowly edged roond the corner intae the tree lined street. A witness, shutting his curtains o’er, later telt the polis that the driver seemed tae hesitate at the tap end ae the avenue, before slowly moving forward, searching fur the number he wis looking fur, before it stoapped ootside the flat.
“Right, listen up, everybody. No matter who the fuck confronts ye, take the basturts oot,” Phil McGregor, Papa McGregor’s younger brother, growled at the men in the balaclavas, sitting hunched-up in the back. “We’re efter The Mankys, so don’t fuck aboot. Kill the basturts. This is aboot a come-back, tae show everywan that jist because Papa isnae here, we’re no doon and oot. If we fail the night, then The Big Man and that Wan-bob Broon will walk aw o’er us and take whit is oors, so they will. Ah’m no gonnae allow that tae happen. Ur youse aw ready?” he growled o’er the rattling sound ae cocking guns.
Chapter Forty Eight
Even wae the silencing ae the noisy, honking car horns fae earlier in the day, there wis still that steady thrum fae the traffic, rumbling across the frost covered slated rooftaps ae the city in the distance that Monday night. The only intermittent interruption fur people lying in their beds sleeping wis the night song ae some auld mongrel barking somewhere aff in the distance, in wan ae the neighbouring streets or alleyways. Glesga, when it’s sleeping, sounds a bit like a beehive settling doon fur the night. It’s a sound that practically none ae its inhabitants living in the toon ever hear or take notice ae, unless they’ve been away fur an indefinite period in the Sahara or locked up in some dank dark prison cell, somewhere oot in the sticks. Everywan who spoke aboot the day that the Kingston Bridge came tae a standstill, aw agreed, withoot fear ae contradiction, that it hid been pretty bonkers fur the polis, fire brigade and ambulance crews. Nowan, if they wur honest wae themsels, hid experienced anything like it since the war. Fur some, the calamity hid meant opportunity, lost hope and a mixture ae grief in equal measure.
Rose Bain’s family hid walked aw the way hame tae Ibrox fae The High Court and resumed their crying where they’d left aff the night before, their hopes fur justice squashed like a crushed tomato at the side ae the pavement, that hid been left lying efter the fruit market hid shut up early due tae the absence ae any delivery lorries.
Nine people hid died in the back ae ambulances that black Monday. In the letters pages ae The Glesga Echo o’er the next few weeks, ermchair experts argued amongst themsels, debating whether four ae the deceased could’ve been saved if they’d made it tae a hospital in time.
It hid eventually taken the polis three days and two nights tae clear the streets roond aboot the toon centre ae abandoned cars and vans.
Joshua and Abraham, The St John’s Ambulance stretcher bearers did indeed ‘Tread Where Nowan Else Did’ that cauld and frosty Monday, before ending up in ward ten ae The Royal, wae PC Rose in the bed between them, keeping them company. Alang wae dozens ae other St John’s Ambulance Volunteer heroes, Joshua and Abraham wur awarded a specially minted Kingston Bridge Medal by a grateful Corporation, in recognition ae their brave endeavors, efter saving countless lives ae citizens who’d suffered serious, life threatening conditions throughoot the day.
Miracles abounded as newborn babies survived, efter being delivered oot there oan the noisy streets. Wan, oan the tap deck ae a bus oan Shettleston Road, wan oan wan ae the underground trains across in Ibrox, two in the back seats ae gridlocked cars and two oan the shoap flairs ae big department stores in the toon centre.
Able Firemen Ricky Beard and Jack ‘JJ’ Johnston, did indeed eventually receive The Queen’s Fire Service Medal fur bravery, as recommended by the city’s Fire Brigade Commander.
Three banks, two post offices and wan ae the last surviving engineering companies that still operated up in Dobbie’s Loan in the Toonheid hid aw been held up, a record amount ae armed robberies fur any wan day in a city where armed holdups wur two a penny. It hid taken the Serious Crime Squad over two hours tae reach the first bank robbery call-oot in Maryhill that morning. The Glesga Echo wis glad tae report that nowan hid been physically hurt in any ae the armed robberies. The other robbery response times wid end up getting buried, due tae the embarrassing failures, blamed oan the city’s antiquated traffic management system.
There wur other records broken that day that didnae attract the same publicity as the armed hold-ups. Blind Bill Campbell’s wee street urchin purse and pocket thieves made a killing and Blind Bill even richer than he awready wis.
Shoplifting in the toon centre reached biblical proportions, as hauf the wee tea-leaves in the city exited the school classrooms in their hundreds, fae Easterhoose tae Drumchapel, as the wee toe-rags swarmed intae the toon centre, hell-bent oan their wance in a lifetime blagging opportunity.
Elsewhere, oan the law and order front, some bizzies wur promoted whilst others wur toppled, wae mair tae come in the weeks and months tae follow, as a result ae internal and external polis investigations.
Superintendent John Bower, heid ae the polis traffic division in the city wis the first tae be sacked, only a few days efter returning tae duty following his accusation ae being The Silver Arrow. His crime wis putting the lives ae thousands ae motorists at risk by overriding the decision ae the Glesga Fire Service and allowing a contra–flow ae west bound traffic oan the Charing Cross underpass oan tae the bridge.
Also, within a few days ae the bridge fiasco, Wilma Thain wis promoted tae chief inspector and put in charge ae the south’s murder squad, tae oversee the enquiry intae Papa McGregor and Victor Ruth’s assassination. In her ain time, ootside working hours, Wilma also managed tae track doon Collette James’s brother, her only surviving relative, and wae a wee bit ae help fae Jean and some erm twisting, managed tae get a fair few ae Collette James’s female WPC colleagues tae turn up tae the Linn Crematorium across in Castlemilk. Pricilla Presley and aw the other ex WPCs, including Susan McFarlane, wur also in attendance, alang wae Elvis Presley, who sang ‘Long Black Cadillac,’ before that wee cross-eyed Boys Brigade bugler cousin ae his, Jimmy Beaver, played oot ‘The Last Post,’ as the curtain closed o’er the coffin and it slowly descended doon oot ae sight. Wilma’s ex-man, Ronnie, despite no being anywhere near a divorce court, announced his engagement tae Chantel by placing an advert in The Evening Times that Monday night. By aw accounts, Wilma Thain didnae gie a shit. She’d been asked oot oan a second date by a big handsome smooth-talking man wae a French surname, Depardieu, wan ae the senior undertakers fae the Clydesdale Co-op Funeral Society across in Tradeston, who wis intae his Elvis records big time. She’d also found hersel a cracker ae a wee baby sitter, who didnae charge the earth and proved tae be reliable.
Her detective sergeant, Jean Moffat, also rose up the ranks tae become an inspector, bit still didnae get a uniform tae show aff her new, flashy braid and badges. Due tae her promotion tae inspector and her earlier involvement in the investigation intae Peter Paterson and Snappy Johnston’s murders, Jean Moffat wis put in charge ae investigating the fatal shootings that took place the night ae Tony’s Guc
ci’s birthday party.
Jist before Teddy Bare’s murder trial started, Donna The Prima Donna hid been her usual busy self. She’d persuaded Barbara Allen, The Purple Dove, tae go and hiv a wee word in Wilma Thain and Glenda Metcalfe’s ears, using persuasive incentives like threatening tae withdraw financial support fur her future political campaigns. Efter agreeing no tae charge the cooncillor in exchange fur her turning Queen’s Evidence, The Purple Dove explained tae the two law enforcement officers how Lesley Bare hid passed oan Rose Bain’s file tae her the day before she wis murdered, doon in the city chambers, efter removing the file fae The Cove doon in Pitt Street Polis Office. She claimed that she’d then handed the file o’er tae Cleopatra, in exchange fur The Tear Drap Café tae be reopened, thus enhancing her ‘Wummin Ae The People’ tag, efter spending substantial amounts ae Donna The Prima Donna’s hard earned money promoting her image…efter aw, it wisnae cheap being a successful politician in a place like Glesga.
Sharon Campbell and the rest ae the Springburn wummin fae The Original Jeely Piece Sandwich Company wurnae implicated in blagging the file fae The Cove doon in Pitt Street as they expanded the business by employing an extra twenty five wummin in their new sandwich making premises oan Balmore Estate up in Lambhill.
Sergeant Marybell Raminsky managed tae haud oan tae her job, before replacing Christopher ‘Crisscross’ Cross doon in the lost property section ae Central, efter he goat caught trying tae reset a big fancy Ferguson TV tae wan ae Cleopatra’s skulks who’d been working undercover.
Edward ‘Carcrash’ Wilson eventually goat whit he wis efter three months later, when he wis promoted oot tae The Scottish Office, under Alan Small, heid ae The Crown’s Criminal Division in Edinburgh, where he hid easy access tae a lot ae interesting information that might come in handy someday if that pension ae his ever needed topped up. He’s also taken great pleasure in driving back tae his fancy office in Edinburgh in his big fancy Jaguar 4.2 litre Sovereign car, efter terminating his existing long-standing arrangement wae The Big Man, as mutually agreed between them the week efter Wan-bob Broon and Charlie Hastie goat arrested back in October 1975.
Inspector Swein McTavish and the rest ae Cleopatra’s skulks wur eventually repatriated back up tae the Highlands, apart fae wan ae the sergeants, who’d goat charged wae perverting the course ae justice, efter admitting that he destroyed Susan McFarlane’s letters, as instructed by his boss, Superintendent Murdina Munro. He later agreed tae turn Queen’s Evidence against her tae ensure he received a lesser prison sentence than whit he wid’ve received if he’d stood by her.
Possil’s caped crusader, Inspector Gardenia McPhail, stayed in the toon a further nine months, hoping tae see oot her two-year enhanced payment stint. She’d only jist started planning her wedding when she discovered Superintendent Bob Mackerel in bed, shagging another younger poliswummin. It’s wis certainly true…at least in her case, whit everywan hid been whispering behind her back that leopards never change their spots.
Gardenia eventually heided back up the road tae Buckie tae sort oot aw the wasters that hid moved in, five minutes efter she’d been posted doon tae Glesga. She eventually moved back in wae her ex husband, Mr McPhail, Pearl’s auld boss, the editor ae The Morayshire Scot and apparently lived happy ever efter.
Paddy McPhee, The Stalker, went hame fae The High Court a broken man. He went oan tae wander up and doon Argyle Street wearing a colourful sandwich board strapped o’er his shoulders. The board oan his front proclaimed ‘Jesus Christ. The Same Yesterday and Today and The Morra,’ while the wan oan his back declared ‘Come unto Me and Ah Will Gie Ye Rest.’
Sergeant Dave McGovern never donned a polis uniform in the city again, bit insteid swapped it fur a South African wan. He wis shot deid nine months later at a road block oan the ootskirts ae the toonship ae Soweto in Johannesburg, South Africa, by members ae Umkhonto we Sizwe, the armed wing ae the ANC.
The murder ae the other hauf ae The Gruesome Twosome, Shane Priestly, up in the hospital wing ae the Bar-L, wis never solved.
Glesga’s finest never did discover the where-aboots ae auld William Tell’s body, which hid gone missing between the undertakers’ rest room and his family lair up in Lambhill Cemetery back in January 1973. His distraught wife tried tae sue The Corporation fur negligence and lack ae due care ae his remains, bit unfortunately the claim fell at the first hurdle, efter her brief, Silas Abraham, hid tae break the bad news tae her that, due tae cut-backs tae the Legal Aid budget that hid been spiraling oot ae control, she noo widnae qualify.
The Organized Crime Task Force wur soon stood doon quietly, withoot any fanfare, due tae even fewer successes than the previous wan that hid disappeared a few years earlier. Apart fae being responsible fur arresting Superintendent Murdina Munro and Chief Inspector John Henderson, which hid gied it some semblance ae credibility, at least tae some who didnae know any better, that hid been that.
John ‘The Haun’ McClure suddenly disappeared three days efter Wan-bob Broon and Charlie Hastie’s trial collapsed. There wis a lot ae speculation aboot whit hid become ae him. Some ae the know-it-aw bar-flies up in the pubs in Possil and Maryhill claimed, wae authority, that he’d retired tae a wee village oot near Ben Lomond, wae the proceeds ae the criminal injuries compensation money he’d been awarded fur his terrible injuries…that wis, until a wheelchair, identical tae his wan, wis unearthed oot ae a cooncil landfill site, oot near Blantyre, three months later.
Nowan wis ever convicted fur the murder ae the other two black butchers, Streaky John McGinnis and Willie Commotion, whose body probably still lies buried in an unmarked grave oot near Alexandra somewhere, waiting fur some passer-by, oot walking his dug, tae discover him.
It took a further two months fur Shaun Murphy tae get his undeserved Christian burial, wae very few people in attendance, which jist went tae prove wance and fur aw that nowan really liked the evil, two-faced basturt.
Jumping Jake Flasher walked hame efter his show finished at 10 am the day the Kingston Bridge shut fur the day. He lay in his bed aw day, trying tae come up wae a theme fur his daily competition the next morning. He finally fell asleep efter he came up wae his best wan so far, aptly titled ‘Name The Wean,’ in response tae the number ae weans hivving been born in the traffic jams. The top prize wis a pet shampoo kit that he’d picked up fae alang at The Briggait fur 25 pence. It wis the maist popular morning quiz in the history ae the show and the station itsel. The eventual winning name fur a boy wis unsurprisingly Kingston. Porsche took it hame fur the lassies. Other names like Penelope Pitstoap and Jesus Effing Christ, though seriously considered, wur rejected due tae copyright infringement and no wanting tae upset The Christian Brigade, whose leader, Pastor Jack Glass, wis calling oan those responsible fur the chaos oan the bridge tae be publicly flogged, efter him and his supporters discovered that the devil hid been at work that day. Two days later, Kingston Broon wis shown aff in aw his bawling glory, tae a delighted population, in the bottom hauf ae the Green Fingers Section ae The Glesga Echo. Nowan ever found oot if a wee lassie called Porsche cropped up in The Rottenrow Maternity Hospital.
Donald Dingle finally managed tae get himsel hame, exhausted, and intae his bed by hauf past eight that night and slept fur a full two days. By public demand and supported by aw the city newspapers, he wis sacked fae his job oan his return. Efter aw, it wis Glesga and people needed somewan tae blame fur the chaos. Some colleagues at the radio station speculated whether things might’ve turned oot differently fur him, if he’d only been born wae a better sense ae humor.
Pearl Campbell’s first expose in The Glesga Echo, jist before the start ae Teddy Bare’s trial fur murdering his wife, Lesley, which hid brought tae light the incredible suffering ae young poliswummin at the hauns ae The Irish Brigade o’er the years, hid sent sales ae the newspaper through the roof. However, it wis her second exclusive oan the Saturday morning, the day efter Teddy Bare wis sentenced tae life, that broke Mary Marigold’s previous record fur the maist sales in
the wan day, following her ‘Tales Ae A Winged Dove,’ the trials and tribulations ae Glesga housewife, Helen Taylor, trying tae get elected as a cooncillor in Springburn back in 1972. Pearl’s exclusive revealed that Superintendent Daddy Jackson, Inspector Mickey Sherlock, Inspector Teddy Bare, Inspector Jings Johnston, Inspector Billy Liar, Inspector Bobby Mack and Sergeants Sally and Willie Burke hid aw been charged wae perverting the course ae justice, conspiring and committing serious assaults, rape and the intimidation ae ten current and ex serving poliswummin, dating back tae the early 1960s. The article, free fae the constraints ae Teddy Bare’s impending trial, whilst taking cognizance ae the upcoming polis trial, gied an in-depth expose tae an astonished readership ae whit hid been happening fur so long in a city whose polis force wis awready viewed as being corrupt by the majority ae its honest citizens.
And as fur the Mankys and whit happened tae that wee bunch ae ballroom dancers? Well, it’s late and that’s a longer story that needs tae be telt in the cauld light ae day, doon here oan the cracked pavements ae the Mankiest City ae The Empire.
You can keep up to date with The Mankys and Johnboy Taylor on The Glasgow Chronicles’ website and Ian Todd’s Facebook page for The Glasgow Chronicles:
www.theglasgowchronicles.com
www.facebook.com/theglasgowchronicles
Parly Road is the first book in The Glasgow Chronicles series by Ian Todd and is also available on Amazon:
It is the summer of 1965 and things are looking up for ten-year-old Johnboy Taylor in the Townhead district of Glasgow. Not only has he made two new pals, who have recently come to his school after being expelled from one of the local Catholic schools, but their dream of owning their own pigeon loft or ‘dookit’ and competing with the city’s grown-up ‘doo-men’ in the sport they love, could soon become a reality. The only problem is that The Mankys don’t have the dosh to pay for this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.