by Irvine Welsh
Dawson's eyes widened briefly with fear before petulance replaced it as
It should be borne in mind except in cases of a very small child, the offence of rape is extremely unlikely to have been committed against a woman who does not show signs of extreme violence. If a woman walks into a police station and complains of rape with no signs of violence she must be closely interrogated. Allow her to make a statement to a policewoman and then drive a horse and cart through it. It is always advisable if there is any doubt of the truthfulness of her allegations to call her an outright liar . . . watch out for the girl who is pregnant or late getting home at night; such persons are notorious for alleging rape or indecent assault. Do not give her sympathy. If she is not lying, after the interrogator has upset her by accusing her of it, then at least the truth is verified . . . the good interrogator is very rarely loved by his suspect.
But the whole thing was Lexo. . . he set it up. . . ah never even . . .
— So Roy, I was reluctant to become a suspect. Suspected of lying about being held captive, brutalised, tortured and humiliated. A suspected and a proven liar; proven in a court of law. I still get flashbacks, Roy. Two years later. These flashbacks are nothing to do with the acid you gave me. Some people have them ten years later. It never really ends, Roy. It neverreally ends.
It wis Lexo that gave ye the acid! Lexo's fault! Alex Setterington. He's done it tae lassies before, he's probably still daein it. You'll no remember, bit ah tried tae stoap it! AH WIS THE CUNT THAT TRIED TAE STOAP THUM! AH SAIS TAE UM! MIND AH SAIS!
DEEPER, PLEASE PLEASE DEEPER
Oh fuck, I can see light coming through those thin membranes that are my eyelids . . . I'm going to fuckin open them and stare her in the face . . . please no no no no no DEEPER . . . I can smell this disinfectant. . . this is the fuckin hoaspital . . .
— I was a fool, Roy. A fool to go through the process. It was worse than the rape itself. The judge. Worse than a joke; a sick joke played on me. The whole thing was a theatre. A theatre to humiliate and brutalise me all over again. What was it Judge Wild said in Cambridge in 1982: 'It's not just a question of saying no . . .
— it's a question of how she says it, how she shows it and makes it dear.
NO
—If she doesn't want it she only has to keep her legs shut and she would not get it without force and there would be marks of force being used. That was another good judge, just like our Justice Herrniston.So it was my own fault. Roy. l didn't say no the proper way . . .
NO
— . . . I should have kept my legs shut, even drugged, even with that knife at my throat, even with two men pulling my legs apart . . .
NO
NO
I can't wake now
DEEPER
DEEPER
DEEPER– – –Now I'm
away from you . . . I'm sliding down the well, past my platform, out of that tunnel of darkness into a clear blue sky above the tropical savannah of Africa, the place of my dreams, of my freedom . . . but it's going dark again and I'm back in this room with Dawson and Sandy, cornered by the Storks.
— There must be some arangement we can come to, Dawson pleaded with the dead-eyed beast, — I'm a man of not inconsiderable personal wealth. I have a family!
The large Marabou turned to its friends and squawked loudly. The air was raw with the sound of their hysterical screeches and floating feathers and dust flew, giving off a vile stench and irritating me so that I sneezed Eh fuckin moved, Vet!
Like ah sais, the laddie moved! It wis like eh sneezed or somethin ! Roy! Kin ye hear ays! Ah'm askin ye son, kin ye hear ays!
— Dinnae shout John, the laddie's ill, the laddie isnae fuckin well!
— Bit eh kin sneeze, Vet! Quick! pit the tape oan, the new tape . . . It's goat ays singin Born Free oan it son. Ma favourite film ay all time. Mind, Roy, ah showed ye the video! Like ah sais, favourite film ay aw time that yin:Baw-rn freee — as free is as the wind blows . . . mind ay that son? Matt Monro sung it! Mind! The film Roy, mind; Joy Adamson n her man, whit wis the cunt's name again? Joy Adamson's man? Based oan a true story! Elsa, the lioness cub, ken bit thit grew up tae be a big lion! Kin ye hear ays, Roy! Born Free! Mind! Vet! C'moan wi the tape! — Ah'm comin, John!
I'd like to run away from you,
But if you never found me I would die . . .
— That's you singing Shirley fuckin Bassey again Vet, no me wi Born Free. Pit me singin Born Free oan!
I'm going to wake up if I don't go fucking deeper. . . DEEPER
— Bit it's a new Shirley Bassey John, a different Shirley Bassey . . .
— Aye, bit ah wis talkin tae the laddie aboot Born Free. Eh must mind ay that video. Joy Adamson. Eh watched it enough.
— Naw, bit ah dinnae agree wi that, John. The laddie grew up hearin me singing like Shirley Bassey so that's whit we should be playin firum . . .
— Like ah sais, Born Free . . . n thirs a bit ay me singin Tom Jones oan it n aw . . . Thunderball . . . that wis a James Bond theme tune, like ah sais, Thunderball. Aye. Thunderball.
I'd rather face the Stork than listen tae these cunts . . .
DEEPER
DEEPER
I can't get fuckin deeper . . .
— Here we go!
He always runs while the others walk,
He acts while the other men just talk . . .
— That's the one, Vet! Me singin Tom Jones . . . likesay Thunderball n that. Like ah sais, Thunderball.
— Aye . . .
He looks at the world and he wants it all,
So he strikes like Thuuuunder-ball . . .
— One ay ma favourite Bond theme tunes ay aw time, this yin. Some chanter Tom Jones, eh Vet?
— Aye . . .
FUCK OFF FUCK OFF FUCK OFF FUCK OFF FUCK OFF FUCK OFF
— A great number, like ah sais, a great number.
— Ah dinnae really like that yin but John, ah like Tom Jones's other stuff . . . last night ah went tae sleep in Detroit City.
— Listen but Vet . . .
Any woman he wants he'll get . . .
NO
NO
He'll break any heart without regret
His days of asking are all gone . . .
His fight goes on and on and on . . .
DEEPER PLEASE DEEPER
— Ah widnae really class masel as a belter bit, Vet. Ah'm mair ay a crooner, ken? Mair yin fir the soulful ballads like.
— Mibbe git ma tape on now though, John.
— Soulful ballads, like ah sais.
— Ma tape, John.
— Aye, soulful ballads.
PLEASE GO
— Change the tapes now, John.
— Eh . . . aye, bit we huv tae be gaun now, Vet. Likesay need tae be makin a move. Cheerio Roy!
Ma's cheap perfume reeks as she bends over to kiss me.
— Cheerio sweetheart.
Thank you and goodbye.
GOODBYE.
19 MissX's
Confessions
I feel my senses returning. This is beyond perception. I know she's in the room before she speaks; observing me, toying with me. I'm at her mercy in the same way she was at ours. How will she exercise her power? Will she show compassion or is she just the same as us? Is she what we made her? I know who you arc, Miss X. I know who you are, Kirsty.
Kirsty Chalmers. Miss X.
But I didn't . . . it was Lexo. I didn't mean to hurt you.
IT WISNAE MA FUCKIN FAULT
The wey you carried oan asked fir it wi wir aw pished
I want to go.
You only live twice
Or so it seems
One life for yourself
And one for your dreams . . .
— Your taste in music is strange, Roy Strang. It's fuckin weird, just like the rest of you. ITS NO MA FUCKIN TASTE, IT'S THESE CUNTS
You drift through the years
And life seems tame.
Till one dream appears
&n
bsp; And love is its name . . .
— The funny thing is Roy, Roy Strang, that I actually fancied you. Honest. Crazy eh? I genuinely thought that you were a bit different. Thought you were a nice-looking felly. I know that you were shy aboot your ears, anybody could see that but I liked them. He looks like Shane in the Pogues, I used to say. I thought that you were tasty. Different, quiet, not full of yourself like the others. Thoughtful. Deep. Ha ha . . . I thought you were deep. Deep in a fucking coma.
DEEPER
And love is a stranger
Who'll beckon you on . . .
DEEPER
Don't think of the danger.
Or the stranger is gone . . .
DEEPER
—I was scared to talk to you though. You didn't show any interest in me, no like the others. You didn't drool. The only reason I hung around with these morons was to get closer to you. How crazy is that then, eh?
This dream is for you
So pay the price
Make one dream come true
You only live twice . . .
DEEPER
I can't get away, I can't get deeper. . . this is fuckin. . . if ah don't watch out ah'm gaunny wake up, gaunny end up right back in thair fuckin world where ah huv tae face aw this . . . and why is she sayin this aboot me, Dumbo Strang . . . why is she tellin these lies, tryin tae fuck ma heid up . . .
— I've decided to get them all, Roy. Your mate Dempsey was just the first. lt was so easy. I just waited until he was coming home from the pub, he'd been there a lot lately, and I drove at him at high speed. He was all over the road. Held on for a couple of days as a cabbage, like yourself. I was sad when he kicked it; it would have been nice to have had you all lying before me like the produce on display at a fruit market; the vegetable stall. Then I could inspect the vegetables at ma whim.
DEEPER
— It would be great if you could hear this Roy, although I suppose that's just wishful thinking on my part. Mind you, Dr Goss did say that you were showing greater signs of awareness than ever before and he is hopeful that you'll come out of this one day. I wouldn't count on that though.
I WANT AWAY
— I' II tell you Roy, if you can hear me, you still won't have gathered how much I hate and detest you. I could never really tell you how much. You probably have no idea how you changed my life, how you could have ruined it, if I'd let you. I'll never be the same again Roy Sex and men . . . it doesnae work for me anymair. I've found something in it all though, Roy. I've found me. I hate you for what you did to me. I understand that hate. What I'd really love is for you to be able to explain how you hated me so much to do what you did. What happened to you? What was your fucking problem, you sad, sad cabbage, you sick, brutalised, fucked-up bastard? Why did you hate me so much, Roy?
I didnae hate ye . . . I wanted you . . . I wanted us to . . .
THERE IS NO EXCUSE
NO NO NO NO
IT WIS LEXO. . .LEXO. . . IT WIS FUCKIN LEXO THAT INSTIGATED THE WHOLE THING AH NIVIR EVEN REALLY TOUCHED YE NOWT TAE FUCKIN DAE WI ME AH WIS FEART, FEART AY LEXO THE CUNT'S A FUCKIN KILLER
Make one dream come true
You only live twice . . .
DEEPER
DEEPER
DEEPER – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – and it's happening now . . . and Dawson's jumping on the spot and throwing a tantrum about how he doesn't want to die and because of this we go crashing through the rotten floorboards and run through a cavernous set of tunnels. — Wait for me, Dawson wheezes, as we hear the Storks squawking in pursuit.
I run and run until I can see nothing around me or ahead of me. Then it's like my lungs collapse and I black out. I have a pleasant image of the two of us, me and Dorie, at a club, dancing together, really high, I feel the music in me, feel the rushes, the uninhibited euphoria . . . I awaken and Sandy's kind face pulls into focus in front of me. Dust kicked up by a swirling wind stings my eyes and my throat. Sandy's got a shooter. It's a pump-action double-barrelled shotgun. — We have to go, Roy, he says. I get up easily and I see the Lodge in the distance. We run towards it.
— Let's get that fucking Stork, Sandy, we're so close, so close to solving the whole fuckin problem coming up so close to the surface – – – – – – – –A total breakdown, Roy. l blamed myself. For a whole year l was no better than you. a fucking waking corpse.
WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE THIS IS JUST SUPPOSED TAE BE ME AND SANDY
SANDY
Sandy
Diamonds are forever . . .
They are all I need to please me,
They can stimulate and tease me,
Sandy
They won't leave in the night,
I've no fear that they might desert me . . .
JAMIESON
Diamonds are forever . . .
Hold one up and then caress it,
Touch it, stroke it and undress it,
I can see every part,
Nothing hides in the heart to hurt me . . .
WHAIR THE FUCK UR YE, JAMIESON!
20 Self-Deliverance With A Plastic Bag
I couldn't run away from it in Manchester. The nightmares; oddly enough the Marabou Stork nightmares were the worst. Why should that have been? Who knows. Who the fuck knows. The Marabou Storks. I saw them at the Kruger Park in South Africa, the only place in the Republic where you can view them. When that one killed the flamingo, it was fucking horrible. It made me feel queasy. It was the way it held up the flamingo's head, severed at the neck. The flamingo is not a beautiful bird. It is a stupid, ugly-looking creature which happens to have beautiful plumage. Gaze at the flamingo's face, and what do you see?
You see a beautiful bi
You see
The flamingo's blood, her blood. The blood of her on me.
No. There was no blood.
Only my blood. My blood when he did that to me in the city of gol den words he will pour in your ear,
But his lies can't disguise what you fear,
For a golden girl knows when he's kissed her,
It's the kiss of death from mis-tah
Gold-fing-ah.
Pretty girl, beware of his heart of gold,
This heart is cold.
I'M NEARLY FUCKIN AWAKE HERE, I COULD OPEN MY EYES . . .
No.
No way. This is my home. My refuge. Like Manchester.
Manchester was my refuge. I stayed in my flat in Ancoats, keeping away from everyone, except to go to my work. I watched videos and started reading again. Not just books to do with my work, like information technology and software design; books on politics n that, and no nature books, no ornithology. Apart from that it was everything really; loads on Africa, imperialism and apartheid. I wanted to go back, no as it is now but as I imagined it was or as it could be. Once those fuckin white cunts had been kicked out. That's all I did in Manchester, I read, and I kept masel tae masel.
Then she came along.
I had seen her at work, even knew her name. She worked in the Pensions Section. Her name was Dorothy. She always had a smile for everyone, a smile that just made you smile back. It wisnae a bland, stupid indiscriminate smile though. It was a real engaging, searching smile; the smile of someone looking for the good they know is in everybody and invariably finding it.
It happened when I was coerced along to an office leaving do. Coerced along by a bossy, domineering middle-aged cow who liked to organise every cunt's life. There always seemed to be loads of them in the type of places I worked in. One of those people who thinks of themselves and is thought of by others as friendly, but who is anything but, who is another fuckin control freak. As I was new, or relatively new by that time, this person insisted that I came along. I would get to know people better. The last thing I wanted to do was to get to know any cunt. I don't know why, but I went. It was probably because I was so depressed I didn't have the willpower to say no, or to contemplate the excuses I'd have to make on Monday. Roy Strang. Top boy. Ha ha ha.
The whole thing was just another load of shite to get through. I took my Becks and sat making small-talk, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. People seemed to be comfortable talking to me for an obligatory couple of minutes, before deciding to find better company. It was as if I was wearing a baseball cap with flashing lights that spelt: FUCKED UP.
Then Dorothy came over and sat beside me. She smiled and I felt myself smiling back. I felt some tightness in my chest unlock. — It's about time I introduced myself. I've seen you around. I'm Dorothy from Pensions. Oh bloody hell, that makes me sound ancient. It's Dorothy from Warrington really. I hate it when people say what do you do, and people talk about their sodding jobs all the time. What do you do? I eat, sleep, shit, pee, make love, get out of it, go to clubs, that's what I flamin well do. Sorry, I'm rabbiting ere. What's your name?
— Eh, Roy.
Dorothy was pretty. She had a nice face and shortish blonde hair. Pretty enough to be thought of as plump rather than fat. Not from Fathell, Lancashire. She seemed not to be drunk, but somehow euphoric.
— Look Roy, I'm sorry about this, but I'm E'd out of my face. If I'm in a club an there's good sounds on, I don't bother nobody, I just dance. If I'm in this sort of environment though, I just want to talk to everyone. Life's too short to be all quiet n grumpy, init?
Life's too short. Her enthusiasm was infectious. In spite of myself I was enjoying talking to her. — What dae these things dae for ye?
— Ain't you done any E before? I thought you were all big ravers up in Scotland.
— Naw, ah like the indie stuff mair, ken? No really intae dance n that.
I was a freak. Legs too short. Gimpy, thanks tae fuckin Winston Two. Rest in peace you canine cunt. I'd always wanted tae dance, I mean really dance, tae really go for it, but naw. I never bothered, eh.
— This gear's brilliant. I never drink now, can't stand the stuff and I've never had such a good time in my life, she smiled. She was certainly having a better time than me. I'd had just two Becks, the rest of the night I'd been on cokes. I didn't want to get drunk and lose control. I was looking at the others; their morose, belligerent beery faces. They didn't seem to be having a good time either.