When I was told I had a terminal illness, I bought a lottery ticket. It was a winner. I kept quiet about this. In the enclosed envelope are the winnings, plus interest and other small amounts divided four ways.
Towards the end, I valued the friendship of a small boy.
The Colonel opened the small envelope and took out a cheque. It was made out to him for two million, two hundred, sixty thousand pounds and twenty pence. Jock and Lenny looked at their cheques. They were for the same amount.
The Colonel read the last paragraph of the letter, “No more villainy. Use wisely and have a trouble-free future.” The Colonel took his handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his eyes. Jock uttered, “My good God!” Lenny stared at the cheque.
Angela sobbed as she was handed an immediate amount of £50,000 and learnt that a trust was set up to hold the remainder with annual amounts paid out.
The conditions of the bequest were read out to the other three: they would receive an immediate £50,000. When their prison sentences had expired, they would receive the remainder in full.
An hour later, they banked the cheques for £50K and suffered the attention of an exuberant bank manager trying to sell everything from life insurance, ISA and share ownership. He failed on all efforts, as the Colonel said to the manager, “We’ve got money. We intend to keep it.” Later, in the Talbot, they agreed to keep their good fortune quiet.
It was only then that the three ex-cons discovered of Reg’s soft side. Angela told them he had paid for her son to have medical help in America, where she was told he didn’t have autism, but Pandas Syndrome, a neuropsychiatric condition that, over time, could be controlled and hopefully, her son could lead a near normal life. James had taken to calling him Grandpa. She burst out crying and quickly left the pub.
Jock was the first to say anything, “Let’s remember that at the end, he became a caring, old duffer. Let’s raise our glasses to him.”
The Colonel quietly said, “We’ve got to live here until the suspended sentence is spent, then we get our money. Silence and good behaviour are the orders of the day.”
Minnie jumped from the oak tree onto balcony through the small, open widow and waited for the Colonel’s attention and food.
Six weeks later, five men, aged between fifty and sixty, dressed in gorilla suits, stood at the bar of the hotel. They had been using the function room to rehearse the revival of Guy and the Gorillas. The Tartanettes also used the facilities. This was their first, full-dress rehearsal.
“What a great idea, Guy, now that the sixty sounds are making a comeback. How did you get our costumes back? They were nicked, some years ago, from our van.”
"Ah, now there lies a tale. They turned up in a second-hand music shop and one of gangs of old-style bank robbers bought them. Each had our names on labels in the collars. Police later interviewed the owner and discovered our old instruments.
The owner has been charged with receiving stolen goods. The amusing part is that he’d bought them from the thieves soon after they were stolen. Not a good receiving stolen goods scam."
Reginald Watkins, a retired top-banker, suddenly broke in to the conversation.
“OK, lads, that’s the signal for us to get ready to be back on stage and practise. Put your heads back on.”
As the group, Guy and the Gorillas revisited and enjoyed their break, a stirring Burlesque number from the 1920s was filling the air. On stage, The Tartanettes strutted their stuff to the sound of a jaunty backing from a piper in the wings. After ten minutes of doing their stuff, the troupe high stepped off-stage, followed by Jock and a stirring highland march.
A week later at their first live gig in many years, the five-man band stood in their places behind the curtains. The audience clapped and cheered when the girls exited sideways, kicking their legs out as they left the stage. The clapping and cheering had hardly died down when Guy and the Gorillas appeared when the curtains rose, and part of the stage slid to the front. Guy stood, with microphone in hand, as the band began their take of ‘Rock around the Clock’.
With a rousing mix of music from 1930s jazz to the swinging sixties came to an end, the audience erupted into cheers and clapping. The Tartanettes high stepped on stage, followed by Jock playing his ‘pipes’. They took three curtain calls.
Later, the band joined members of the Tartanettes in the little bar at the back of the theatre. Lenny and Jock were there along with the Colonel as a special guest. They joined Glynis, Sylvia, Hillary and the other members of the troupe, all former Burlesque girls from the nineteen sixties and seventies. They were then joined by members of the band.
Judge Sir Guy Carrington-Worth – Vocalist. He joined his wife, Amanda.
John Watson – retired merchant banker and drummer. He joined his wife, Jane.
Prof Reginald Stafford Grimes – Guitarist, who joined his long-time partner, Gloria.
Doctor Leonard Fowler – retired GP electric keyboard. He was joined by his wife, Stella. And,
Sir George Carter – retired cabinet minister, double bass and his wife, Claire.
Jock was getting his second, large whisky when Martha entered the room, smiled at him through the crowded room, blew him a kiss and waggled her fingers. Jock headed for the loo, discovering another door leading to the exit.
Martha spotted him through a side window, heading for the exit and the street. Bemused motorists and pedestrians stopped when they saw a man in Highland regalia, carrying a set of bagpipes, running down the sea front, being pursued by an elderly lady dressed as a Burlesque dancer, with her feather head gear still in place, carrying a pair of black, high-heeled shoes, shouting, “Jock, stop. Jock, stop. I love you.”
Appendix: Glossary of Slang
THROUGHOUT this book you will find words that are not in everyday use and tend to be used by those older villains involved in the heist industry. The English language can be quirky, with different words meaning the same thing. The trio still used slang dating back to the 1950s, 1960s and the 1970s. Many of these words have survived the decades, others have fallen into disuse.
This Glossary of Slang, words used by those in the heist industry, will help the readers understand the meaning of words of the period still used by The Colonel, his gang, and other villains.
It is also hoped this glossary will help those for whom English is not their mother tongue.
A con
A confidence trickster or the act of a confidence trick. Also, a convict.
Dogsbody
A person given any menial task.
Banged-up
Serving a prison term.
Blag
To rob (see heist)
Blagging
A robbery
Blagger
A person who robs
Bluebottles
Police.
Brief
Solicitor or Barrister in the English legal system. An Advocate in Scotland and the Channel Islands
Buggins turn
A fictional person chosen for promotion by rotation rather than merit
Case, case
To carry out a survey. Robbers plan on a raid.
Dogsbody
An individual assigned any menial task
’erk
Lowest rank in the Royal Air Force. A title usually given to the Squadron idiot. A person in a subordinate position – usually a young person. Originally a British expression. Believe to have been adopted from berk or jerk.
Fuzz
Police
Grass
A police informer, also cannabis
‘guest’ of the prison service.
A prisoner
Heist
A robbery
Laff
Laugh
Nick (noun,
Police station.
Nick (verb)
Steal.
Nutter
A mad person. An idiot.
The Old Bill
Police.
Plod
A policeman.
Porridge
Serving a jail sentence.
Pratt
Idiot. An individual prone to stupid actions.
Rumbled
Caught out.
Sawn-off
A shotgun with its barrel and stock shortened.
Shooter
Gun.
Slammer
Prison
Smackers
Slang term for monetary payment. (10 smackers = ten pounds – ten £’s).
Snout
A police informer.
Tea leave
A thief.
Tooled-up
Going equipped to steal whilst carrying firearms or implements to force entry.
Totty
Young girl.
Tom
A prostitute.
Wimmin
Women.
The Final Heist Page 15