Slight pause, then, ‘Well, the first way is when they’re looking for what makes you giggle. And the other way is when they’re looking for what makes you itch.’
‘Okay, but if you don’t let them find out what’s making you itch, I’ll put the word out and you will never giggle again!’
‘You wouldn’t!’
‘I would!’
‘Okay then, I’ll go, but if there’s any monkey business I’m outta there!’
We were first in line when the clinic opened. Dickie insisted I came with him, for moral support, though I did think that was taking our friendship too far!
As it turned out, the nurse had seen it all before. ‘Entering the unknown without an overcoat…a man of your age should know better!’
‘But it was high summer. Who needs an overcoat?’
‘Yes? Well, who needs what you’ve got?’ She was a reallife Hannibal Lector and I did not like the way she stared at his red red puddings!
‘I haven’t come here for a lecture. I’ve come here to cure my itch!’
‘Don’t you get sarky with me, young man! If anybody should be sarky, it’s me. I should be settling down with my morning cuppa, and here I am, feeling some twerp’s spotty nether regions.’
‘My nether regions are NOT spotty!’
‘Oh, I see! Telling me my job now are you? I’ll have you know, you’ve got the makings of a serious case of gonorrhoea.’
‘You’re not supposed to talk to me like that.’ He was well insulted, ‘You’re a nurse, and I’m a patient, and I will not have you rubbishing me, like I was some kind of idiot who never wears an “overcoat”.’
‘Well, if the cap fits…’
As Dickie turned away, she saw the rash on the back of his neck. ‘What’s this?’ She grabbed him by the arm.
‘Get off me!’
‘Show me your back.’
‘No!’
‘Right then.’ Before you could say ‘taters’ she had him in an arm lock. Dickie screamed for me to help, but I had no intention of going three rounds with her.
‘You got yourself into this mess, get yourself out!’ I was hiding behind the door.
After a fight and a tussle she called the doctor, who made a short examination and the verdict was in.
‘Have you considered cosmetic surgery?’ He asked.
Dickie gave him one of his glares, ‘How dare you! I ought to sue the pants off you!’
‘You can sue me all you like,’ the doctor told him. ‘I’m just saying we have some good stretching facilities here.’
He felt and pushed and shook and pulled, until Dickie was yelping in pain. ‘Right! Stop that screaming and get dressed!’ He was a real manly sort.
It turns out that Dickie did not have the dreaded lurgy at all. After a few questions, it emerged that the itching had been caused because Dickie Manse brains-in-his-pants had washed his underwear in the stuff I got to flush out the drains.
‘You’ve wasted our time!’ The doctor was not happy, ‘So is there anything else you’d like me to examine?’
‘No thanks!’ Dickie ran out the door like his ass was on fire.
The doctor looked at me, ‘On the couch please—I’ll take a look at you now.’
I overtook Dickie down the corridor.
The following morning, Antonio from the chippie called us in. ‘My wife said I havva to speaka with you both.’ He looked dead serious.
Poor Dickie was still sore from lack of sleep, on account of the fact that he’d been awake half the night, scrubbing his nether regions with soap, after being man-handled by the nurse. ‘Leave us alone…I’m not well,’ he groaned.
‘I donta care!’ He really meant trouble. ‘You listen to me!’ he snarled. ‘My wife says I musta find out.’
‘Find out what?’ I was curious.
‘You anda thisa one,’ he pointed to Dickie Manse brains-in-his-pants, ‘…didda you havva the women last night?’ His bushy eyebrows went up.
‘Huh!’ Dickie Manse was in a mood. ‘Chance would be a fine thing, only my tackle isn’t working properly.’
I told him straight. ‘We did not havvathe women last night.’
‘So why havva you beena banging all the night?’
‘Oh, that was just the knob against the wall, but you see…’ I paused discreetly, to lower my voice. ‘It was Dickie’s fault.’ I gave him what I thought was a knowing look. ‘You see…he had a little itch.’
‘Haha!’ Winking at me, Antonio then rolled his eyes at Dickie. ‘You lucky man to havva the woman, eh?’ His eyebrows were going up and down like two hairy worms. ‘Dickie getta the itch, and the woman make itta better, eh?’
When Dickie was about to launch into a full explanation, I drew him away. ‘Let Antonio have his little delusions,’ I said. ‘He doesn’t get much else.’
In fact it made Antonio’s day. As we went away, he was smiling and winking and giving Dickie a knowing smile. Then his wife came out, clipped him round the ear and dragged him off. ‘Maybe you havva the itch too, eh?’ She was smiling from ear to ear. ‘Mamma fix it for you, yes?’ She winked at Dickie, and slammed shut the door.
Wow! It might be Antonio’s lucky day after all.
BEDFORD
JUNE, SATURDAY
Hello, diary. You won’t believe what Dickie’s been up to now. It all started on Saturday morning.
‘LET ME IN!’ I thought Dickie was about to knock the door down. ‘BEN! OPEN THE DOOR. I’VE GOT MY HANDS FULL!’
I opened the door and this enormous, yellow daisy fell on top of me, almost crushing me under its weight. Made of wood and with a bulbous red eye, it was the most awful monstrosity. ‘Where the devil did you get this?’
‘From a car boot sale…two quid it cost me, and worth every penny!’
‘Two quid! They must have seen you coming! It looks like a leftover from The Day of the Triffids!’ The big red eye was staring right at me. ‘Get it out! I do not want that thing in this flat!’
‘NO!’ Dickie struggled through the door with it. ‘This is my flat as well. You can’t stop me having what I like in my half.’
As if the daisy wasn’t enough, he started dragging another monstrosity in through the door. ‘Don’t tell me there’s more!’
‘Ah, but you’ll like this,’ he said proudly, ‘…this is a talking point. It’s entertaining…and…’
‘What is it?’
He ripped off the paper, ‘TA DAA!’ There was a huge, bulbous thing, which looked like a mirror, but not like a mirror, if you get my drift. ‘What’s that supposed to be?’
‘It’s a trick thing!’ Standing it up against the wall, he backed away, ‘Go and have a look.’
I looked and saw what was supposed to be me, only my nose was floating on my knee; one of my eyes juggled on my forehead and the other winked at me from my shoulder. ‘Bloody Nora!’ I threw the wrapping paper over it. ‘You’ve got to be joking if you think that thing is coming to live in this flat.’
‘Don’t be such a big girl’s blouse! Just think of the fun we’ll have. We could hang it in the loo, and when our mates come round they’ll go for a leak and see this huge misshapen monster staring back at them.’ He chuckled, ‘No, idiot, I didn’t mean…that…“monster”. I meant the mirror…when they see themselves in it…’
‘I know what you meant and the answer is no!’ All the shouting woke up Battersby. Wide-eyed and startled he galloped across the room and caught a glimpse in the mirror. When he saw what looked like the Yeti staring back at him, he went crazy, throwing himself at the mirror, then yapping and running about in circles, eyes wild and teeth showing. The more he yapped at it the more the image yapped back.
‘Get him out of here!’ The noise was doing my head in. ‘Antonio will be up here next, giving us notice to quit!’
‘Get down!’ Dickie grabbed the dog by the collar. ‘It’s not another dog, you four-legged twerp…it’s you…only a bit bigger…’ By now, the dog was going into a frenzy.
The thing in the mirror was moving all about and twisted beyond recognition. Its head was on its rear end and its tail was waving like a feather from the back of its neck. The eyes were all over the place, and when I laughingly told the dog to ‘KILL!’ it launched itself into the air straight into the mirror, which exploded into a million fragments, half of which went crashing down the stairs and shuddered to a halt.
When Battersby chased after it, he saw thousands of eyes staring at him from every angle and tails wagging like snakes about to strike. It was all too much. With his tail between his legs, he sped out the door squealing and howling like a banshee. In his panic the dog careered into the postman, who ended up in the gutter with the mail blowing in the wind.
It wouldn’t surprise me if we never saw him again, the dog I mean; or even the postman, judging by the way he legged it down the street.
‘Watsa going on ’ere?’ Antonio’s wife ran into the hallway, saw herself in the fragments of mirror and yelled for Antonio, ‘HUSBANDA! LOOK WHAT THEY’VE’A DONE TO ME!’
‘Husbanda’ came skidding in, saw his wife in the mirror and collapsed in hysterics, ‘LOOK ATTA YOU!’ Grabbing her by the shoulders, he gave her a playful push so she shifted to a different, more frightening version of herself. ‘Itsa funny, no?’ he laughed.
‘You ’orrible husbanda!’ She clapped him on the ear and sent him careering to the door. ‘YOU CRAZY NO-GOOD!’ Waving her arms about, she caught sight of herself in the mirror; floating bits of face leered back at her, her nose ten times its size, all twisted and grotesque; when she yelled her mouth was a big, black cavern that could have swallowed us whole. ‘IF YOU DONTA GET THIS THING OUTTA MY PLACE, I WILL KILL YOU ALL!’ Gawd! We must have really touched a nerve.
Still ranting, Maria got Antonio by the scruff of his collar and dragged him off.
‘I can’t believe you’ve done it again!’ I rounded on Dickie Manse brains-in-his-pants. ‘You cause more trouble than you’re worth. You know what…I’ve a good mind to leave you and find a place of my own. That way I might just keep my sanity.’
‘You wouldn’t do that, would you?’ Dickie had this sorry, gormless look on his face.
‘Oh yes, I would!’ In the pieces of broken mirror I caught sight of me and him on the floor; teeth talking to the ears and arms growing from the side of my head. I couldn’t help but laugh. ‘You’re a walking disaster!’ I moaned.
‘You’d be bored out of your mind if I wasn’t around though. Go on, admit it.’
He was right.
It took a while to clear up the mess, because we were laughing too much.
What really set us off was Antonio and his wife yelling at each other. ‘Whatta we gonna do about them two?’ Antonio wailed.
‘Shutuppa the mouth,’ Maria told him. ‘We’ll get rid of them…specially Tricky Dickie man. He frightening me too much!’
Roll on Monday when I’m back at the kennels. It’s a doddle compared to life at home with him!
BEDFORD
JULY, THURSDAY
Well, here I am again, diary, worn out, fed up, tired and badly in need of a holiday.
We had six kittens born a few weeks ago, from a stray cat somebody found cowering in their shed. No sooner was the poor thing settled with us, she promptly gave birth. Thankfully, we’ve already managed to find homes for each and every kitten.
Andy the new boy got drenched again; that’s the third time since he started here, and it’s all thanks to Poppy. She’s a loose cannon at times; a light gone out! (But we all love her, really.)
She thought she’d switched the hosepipe off at the nozzle, then she went back to turn on the tap; but of course the nozzle was active and right in line for the first hosing was the new boy. ‘HELP!’ The poor thing, he’s always yelling for help, ‘TURN IT OFF!’
While he was busy screaming, a bulky shadow leaped up from the hedge and took flight. Was it a bird? No! Was it a cloud? No! It was my dreaded ex, Laura, dripping wet and fleeing for her life without so much as a how d’you do.
‘Serves you right, you mad stalker!’ I shouted as she slunk off, ‘At least the water can’t shrink your brain any more, eh?’ When she clapped her hands to her ears, I thought she was trying to shut me out, until I remembered she always did that when she’d had a new hairdo; if it was raining, or the wind was blowing, and she didn’t have a hat or hood, she would flatten her hands to her head to keep her hair from spiralling out of control. Silly bat!
‘I hope your wig falls off!’ I let her know I was none too pleased about her skulking in my bushes!
Meanwhile, Poppy ran back to turn off the hose, slipped in the puddle and took off like a snowboard down a mountain, slithering all the way, laughing and shouting, and generally enjoying herself.
When she ended up in the open kennel I told Andy to lock her in, and the silly bugger took me at my word. Then the locks seized up and we couldn’t get her out.
To make matters worse, some bloke arrived with a delivery. ‘Can I buy that little beauty in there?’ He pointed to Poppy.
‘No, you bloody well can’t,’ she yelled, and threw a dog biscuit at him. It caught him in the eye and temporarily blinded him.
I was three hours at the hospital, waiting for them to check him out. When he emerged he was wearing an eye patch, ‘I’ll have you for this!’ he threatened.
I told him, ‘Have me all you like, you won’t be the first.’ He can make of that what he will. I’m past caring!
BEDFORD
AUGUST, SATURDAY
Well, diary, the excitement never ends!
Me and Dickie Manse have decided to meet up after work. Having upset him once again, we promised Antonio that we’d paint his back yard, and we would provide the paint. So off we went to the B&Q store again. We were hoping they wouldn’t recognise us from the last time we were there.
‘Ooh, look! There’s a sale on!’ Dickie always gets excited when there’s a sale on. It doesn’t matter what they’re selling, if it’s two for one, he’ll buy three.
At least the sale had improved his mood. ‘I don’t see why we have to paint his yard anyway!’ He’d moaned all the way there, ‘It’s not as if they’re paying us for doing the job.
‘No, but if you can remember not to antagonise them, we’ll have a roof over our heads, which we could easily have lost, thanks to you!’
‘What d’you mean? It wasn’t my fault that tap flew off the bathroom wall and the water came through their ceiling.’
‘So who else’s fault was it then?’
‘I don’t know. All I know is, it wasn’t me!’
When his eager eyes alighted on the paint department, he went off at a trot, ‘What colour did he say he wanted?’
‘Antonio didn’t say. He said he was happy to leave it to us. As long as it wasn’t black, red or purple, he didn’t mind.’
The shelves were filled with every colour of paint imaginable, ‘There’s a nice pale green in the sale corner,’ Dickie said. ‘Ooh, look at that! Half price an’ all!’ (As I said, it takes very little to get him excited.)
‘Right!’ I followed him to the sale corner. ‘For once, Dickie my friend, you are spot on. That’s a good choice. Pale green, he can’t argue with that, cos it’ll match the mould growing up the walls.’
We bought four large cans, and then went for a quick pint to celebrate.
When we got back to the chip shop, Antonio was at the door, almost as though he was waiting for us. ‘Whatta colour didda you get?’
We showed him, and would you believe, he actually liked it, and so did Maria, who came running out to see what was up. ‘Bellissima!’ she shouted, arms in the air, ‘You do something right for once, eh? BELLISSIMA!’
‘No need to swear!’ Dickie was offended.
‘I no swear!’ she protested, ‘I very pleased.’
‘When do you want it painted?’ I asked.
‘Tonightta!’ Antonio went on, ‘Me and that…’ he jerked a thumb in the direction of his other
half, ‘We go outta together.’ His smile was so scary, I wondered if he was planning to do away with her. ‘We havva the celebrations tonightta. We beena married twenty-five years.’
‘Wonderful!’ I thought of me and Laura…twenty-five years, eh? Jeez! Was that a life sentence, or was that a life sentence!
While the two of them went back inside, arguing all the way, we carried the paint through to the back yard. ‘Look at the height of them walls!’ Dickie Manse looked terrified, ‘Don’t tell me we’ve got to paint all four walls?’
‘Oh, yes,’ I knew that because Antonio had been very particular, ‘…every brick, every nook and cranny, that’s what he said.’
Dickie groaned from his boots, ‘Can we go back down the pub for a bevvy and a pie first?’
‘No! You heard what he said. They’re off to celebrate so they’ll be gone within the hour, and we can get started. We’ll go down the pub afterwards. Okay?’
We changed into our painting clothes and enjoyed a sandwich and a drink. Then the minute we heard them leave, we were down there, ready to start.
It took us three hours of back-breaking work. We painted every square inch of that yard, the seven-foot walls, and even the back gate, and when we stood back to review our handiwork, I was dead chuffed, and so proud that Dickie Manse brains-in-his-pants had actually done a good job.
‘You’ve excelled yourself,’ I told him. ‘We’ve painted everything, and you haven’t even spilled one single drop of paint.’
He went all silly, ‘That’s the first time you’ve ever praised me.’
‘Well, you deserve it. You worked hard. You found the sale department. You chose the colour, and now it looks an absolute treat. Well done that man!’
I swear Dickie blushed bright pink (or it could be the exertion of work).
‘Do you think he’ll reduce our rent?’ he asked.
‘Well, you never know, he might just do that, seeing as we’ve saved him a fortune.’
We didn’t go to the pub, we were too knackered! We grabbed what was left in the fridge, finished off the last two beers, and while Dickie Manse fell asleep on the sofa, I shuffled off to my room and went out like a light.
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