by Todd, Ian
“Baby, ya fat fucking Friar Tuck, ye. Ah saw that, ya knob-end, ye.”
“Beat that, ya bunch ae wet fud pads, ye.”
“Right, that’s it, Ah’m no gonnae shag that sister ae yers again, Freckles.”
“Thank fuck, because she’s only three.”
“No that wan, ya eejit, ye. The wan that goat crippled in that bus crash while sucking the driver’s knob.”
“Whit’s wrang, Paul? Ah widnae hiv thought ye’d hiv a problem wae somewan getting caught cheating?” Johnboy hid asked him, taking his eyes aff ae the quiet boy.
“Ach, it’s no that. Ah cannae be arsed listening tae aw they arses moaning, morning, noon and night.”
“Paul, whit dis CP mean?”
“How dae ye mean?”
“In here.”
“It means ye’re oan Care and Protection.”
“Right, bit whit dis Care and Protection actually mean then?”
“It means they put ye in here because ye’ve naewhere else tae go. Yer ma and da might be deid and there’s nae fucker tae look efter ye or yer ma and da are battering fuck oot ae ye, so ye’re put in here fur yer ain protection.”
“So, how long dis a CP spend in here then?”
“They’re in the same boat as us. They put them in here and like us, they hiv tae wait until they get them a place in an approved school. Ah think they’re supposed tae get put tae the front ae the queue, bit Ah’ve seen boys come in efter CPs hiv arrived and then get shifted oot long before them.”
“So, even though they’ve done nothing, they’re treated the same as us?” Johnboy hid asked, noticing Slapper saying something tae the quiet boy doon at the bottom end ae the yard.
“Aye, life’s shite, isn’t it?”
“Ah’ll be back in a minute,” Johnboy hid said, suddenly staunin up and heiding doon the yard, jist as Slapper walked away fae the boy tae join wan ae the other teachers.
When Johnboy hid reached the quiet boy, he’d looked up at Johnboy, his eyes squinting in the sunlight.
“How ur ye daeing?” Johnboy hid asked him, wondering why he wis getting involved.
“Er, awright.”
“Dae ye want a game ae five stanes?”
“Who? Me? Er…aye, okay,” he’d said quietly, hesitantly looking aboot, obviously wondering whit wis gaun oan.
“Right then, follow me,” Johnboy hid said, walking away.
Hauf way up the yard, Johnboy hid turned, bit the quiet boy hid still been sitting there, looking at him wae a confused look oan his coupon.
“Ur ye coming or whit?”
“Er, aye,” he’d blurted oot, scrambling tae pick up the different sized stanes he’d somehow managed tae obtain, while Johnboy stood waiting fur him.
“Johnboy, whit the fuck ur ye daeing?” Paul hid growled, when him and his new pal plapped their arses doon beside him.
“Aye, Johnboy. Who the fuck gied you permission tae invite a CP up tae oor territory, eh?” Minky hid demanded.
“Ur ye wanting a game?” Johnboy hid asked Paul, haudin oot his haun wae his evenly-sized five-stanes in it.
“Who the fuck is he then?” Bean hid demanded loudly.
“He’s wae me, and his name’s Silent.”
“So?”
“So whit?”
“So, who the fuck invited him tae join us then?”
“Ah did.”
“Ye did, did ye?”
“C’mone, Silent,” Johnboy hid said, starting tae staun up.
“Where dae ye come fae then, wee man?” Baby hid asked Silent.
“The Toonheid.”
“Right, Paul, ya prick ye, shift oot ae ma way,” Baby hid said, shuffling that fat arse ae his o’er beside Silent and Johnboy. “Ur ye any good at this?”
“Ah’m jist learning,” Silent hid replied, fear in his eyes.
“Good, because ye’re in Bean, Johnboy, Minky and Tottie’s team,” he’d said, laughing.
“Right, Blubber-boy-come-tub-arse, fur that bit ae cheek, get they big tits ae yers oot ae ma way. Ah’m first,” Minky hid shouted, tossing up his stanes and catching five oan the back ae his haun oan his first shot.
Later in the efternoon, Silent hid goat called doon tae the door near the reception and hid disappeared.
“Maybe he’s getting telt whit school he’s gaun tae,” Chazza hid wondered.
“Naw, it’ll be a while before that happens.”
“So, how come he’s sitting up here wae us then, Johnboy?” Patsy hid asked him.
Johnboy hid telt them aboot the ugly fae the Memel Toi who’d hid Silent making up his bed in the dorm in the mornings as well as whit Slapper hid been up tae the night before.
“Whit, wan ae they Springburn pricks?” Baby hid shouted, exaggerating the slight tae his manhood by turning and glaring at the three Memel Toi boys, who wur sitting alang fae them, and whose eyes aw went shooting aff in the other direction. “And that wanking slapping basturt ae an arse-bandit prick?” Baby hid shouted oot loud fur the whole yard’s benefit.
Aw the aulder Shamrock boys hid turned roond, glaring doon at Slapper, who twenty seconds later, disappeared through wan ae the bottom doors.
When Silent hid come back, he’d telt the boys that he’d jist been telt that his granny wis too auld tae be bothered wae looking efter him, so that wis that. He wis definitely heiding fur an approved school wae the rest ae the Uglies.
“Auld fucking cow,” Freckles hid said. “Tell me her address and when Ah escape, Ah’ll heid up and tan her hoose and gas meter. That’ll teach the auld bat.”
“Never mind, Silent,” Bean hid said wae a big grin, slapping him oan his back. “It looks like ye’ll be wae us fur a wee while longer, so whose shot is it?”
Later oan, jist as the boys wur coming back doon the stairs efter hivving their tea, Baby clocked Slapper gaun intae the wee office that the night watchman sat in, beside the dorm corridors.
“Johnboy, Minky, keep yer eyes peeled oan whit’s happening alang the corridors. Quick!”
Paul and Baby, alang wae Minky’s big brother and three ae the other aulder Shamrock boys, who wur aw in fur mobbing and rioting, nipped intae the office and shut the door behind them. They’d only been away fur a minute before they came back oot, followed a few seconds later by Slapper, who looked as if he’d jist seen a ghost as he scurried doon the corridor, hauf-running tae the reception area.
“Why did ye no gie me a shout tae join ye, Baby, ya fat basturt?” Patsy whined.
“Minky’s big brother, Shuggie, telt him that if he ever came near Silent or any ae us again, they’d burn this fucking place doon, roond aboot they ears ae his, wae everything and everybody in it,” Paul said tae Johnboy later.
Oan the way up tae the dorm that night, Johnboy asked Silent why he’d never come across him in the Toonheid.
“Naw, Ah’m no fae the same Toonheid as youse aw ur. Ah’m fae Toonheid oot in Kirkintilloch.”
The next morning, Johnboy noticed that the ugly fae the Memel Toi made up his ain bed.
Chapter Seventeen
“Tell me ye’re hivving me oan?” Tom Bryce, the sub-editor growled.
“That’s whit she said. She wants a photographer and a journalist up at John Street tae cover some warrant sale demo oan Thursday or she’s no playing,” The Rat confirmed.
“So ye telt her where tae jump, Ah take it?”
“Well, no exactly.”
“Whit dae ye mean, no exactly, exactly?”
“Ah mean, Ah’m stringing her alang jist noo. Ah’m developing a working relationship wae her…if ye know whit Ah mean?”
“Sammy, Ah’ve no goat a bloody clue whit ye’re oan aboot. Whit dae ye mean ye’re stringing her alang?”
“It means, everything Ah’ve heard aboot the cow isnae true. She’s bloody worse…ten times worse.”
“So, she’s asking us tae consider putting a photo ae her and they hyena pals ae hers intae the paper, as well as daeing a story oan them?” The Sub laughed, shaking
his heid in wonder.
“Naw, naw, they don’t want a story aboot them.”
“Well, thank Christ fur that. Ye hid me worried fur a minute there. So, whit dis she want?”
“She wants a story aboot warrant sales.”
“Sammy, tell me ye’re hivving me oan?” he groaned.
“Nae photo and article means nae info oan the wee innocent boy that goat toasted.”
“Ur ye trying tae tell me that efter Ah went upstairs and convinced everywan in that meeting that we wur beavering away oan a sensational undercover story that wis gonnae blow the city wide open, we’re goosed because ae some mad wummin up there in the Toonheid.”
“Tom, believe you me, she’s smart as fuck, that wan, and sly tae boot. Ye know whit these working class dolls ur like when they get an idea intae their heids. Aw oot fur themsels, withoot any regard fur others, jist tae get a leg up in the world.”
“Sammy, don’t bloody lecture me aboot the working class. Keep in mind, Ah come fae Bishopbriggs masel. Okay, it wisnae a Corporation hoose, bit Ah wis brought up the hard way and worked ma way up through school tae get where Ah am the day. Ah don’t hiv a problem wae somewan wanting tae better themsels. That’s why Ah stood as a Conservative candidate at the last election, tae show people whit they could achieve if they worked hard enough.”
“Bit Ah thought this wis a Labour paper?”
“It is.”
“Oh, right, er, well…”
“Anyway, Ah hope ye telt her that whit she wants is a total non-starter. Who the hell is interested in warrant sales, fur Christ’s sake? They’ve been roond since Adam wis a snapper. It’s aw part ae oor culture.”
“She’s no gonnae budge, and withoot her, oor story is a non-story.”
“At least she’s no hitting us fur dosh.”
“Well, Ah wis gonnae bring that up.”
“Whit?”
“Ah’ll need some mair expenses.”
“Ye goat forty quid oan Monday. Whit the hell dae ye need mair expenses fur?”
“Ah hid tae haun o’er thirty big wans.”
“Even before ye said ye’d consider her offer?”
“That’s whit it cost me jist tae get tae sit doon in that flea-infested pit ae hers that she calls hame.”
“Right, get in touch wae Slipper and tell him that Ah want wan wee unobtrusive photo ae that demo taken fur Friday’s edition. We kin put it oan page thirty seven beside the Green Fingers section.”
“Who’ve ye goat tae cover the story then?” The Rat asked him, taking the seat he wisnae offered and sat doon.
“You!”
“Me? Bit Ah’m yer tap investigative journalist, so Ah am.”
“Aye, well, so this’ll be a doddle fur ye then, won’t it?”
Chapter Eighteen
“So where the hell ur they then, Helen?” Betty asked fur the umpteenth time. “Aw the lassies won’t be too happy if this wee ratty wan gies them aw a dizzy efter hivving put oan their best glad-rags.”
“Listen, Betty, we won’t need a photo in the papers tae scare people aff. They painted faces will dae it fur us. The last time Ah saw faces like that wis when me and ma Jimmy wur at the shows doon oan Glesga Green, throwing baws at the coconuts sitting oan tap ae the laughing heids.”
“Aye, maybe somewan should tell them that they should only go oot at night, when it’s dark, looking like that, eh?” Betty cackled.
“Hoi, Ah heard that crack, ya cheeky basturt, ye, so Ah did,” shouted o’er Marilyn Monroe, who wis staunin beside Jayne Mansfield and Sandra Dee, aw waving their placards aboot ootside number sixty eight John Street.
Where wur the polis? It wisnae like them no tae turn up, Helen thought nervously fur the umpteenth time. Something wisnae quite right, bit she jist couldnae put her finger oan it. It hid taken some bit ae planning tae get organised fur the demo. It hid been the news that there wis gonnae be a photographer and a reporter there that hid increased the turnoot and hid swung it in the end. She’d goat a meeting thegither wae aw the lasses and wae wee Madge, whose sale it wis. They’d aw agreed unanimously that they’d use the twenty five pounds, four and fourpence fae the money that they’d scammed aff ae Speedy Gonzales tae pay aff Madge’s ootstauning arrears. Carol Martin hid kept her boy, Bobby, aff school fur the day, ready tae nip doon tae the Sheriff Officers’ offices doon oan Bath Street tae pay aff the arrears at quarter tae ten oan the dot. It wis noo hauf ten and the sheriff officers wur awready up the stair, alang wae aboot hauf a dozen leeches who’d turned up fur the sale. Every time anywan heard a car coming up John Street, aw their heids turned, expecting tae see somewan who resembled a giant rat wae a photographer in tow.
Chapter Nineteen
“Noo, listen up, boys, make sure ye get the Taylor bitch first. She’s the number wan priority. Efter that, jist grab anything ye kin lay yer hauns oan,” The Sarge informed them, looking roond the circle.
“Ur we lifting them aw?” asked Crisscross.
“Wance we nab the patron saint ae warrant sales, then it’s a free for aw. Don’t fuck aboot wae them noo. Fight violence wae violence. We need tae show these hags wance and fur aw that we own the streets and the good people ae the Toonheid ur no gonnae put up wae their shite any mair.”
“Is ten ae us gonnae be enough?” Jobby wondered.
“Fur Christ’s sake, ye’re no scared ae a bunch ae wee hairy wummin, ur ye?” Skanky Smith laughed, rusty-red wire-hair spilling oot fae under his hat like a burst horsehair mattress.
Skanky hid been pulled in fae o’er in Possil tae gie the Toonheid boys an extra pair ae hauns.
“Skanky, whit ye might class as a wummin up there in sunny Possil is probably way, way different fae whit we’re used tae running aboot doon here in the wilds ae the Toonheid. When we speak aboot them being wummin, it’s because we’ve managed, through diligent forensic research, tae establish that they hivnae forged their birth certificates and that, despite disbelief in some quarters, they ur indeed whit ye wid loosely call wummin. Some ae they harlots might jist be four feet four high and weigh in roond aboot the twenty stane mark, bit believe you me, some ae them kin pack a punch when they’re rattled,” The Sarge cautioned.
“Aye, ye’ll need tae use aw yer self-defence training the day, boys,” Big Jim grimly added.
“Don’t fuck aboot noo. Jist hit first and ask questions later. They wullnae be taking any prisoners and nor will we,” The Sarge reminded them again.
“Right, Jim, ye’re driving the Black Maria. Ah’ll take the squad car. Three ae youse, come wae me and the other five, get intae the back wae Jim. We need tae get up there and oot as quickly as we kin, before they’ve time tae work oot whit’s happening. Surprise is the key here,” Colin said, heiding fur the door.
Chapter Twenty
“Hellorerr, Ah’m here tae pay ma maw’s bill.”
“Whit’s her name, son?”
“Madge Morrison.”
“Address?”
“Sixty eight John Street, Toonheid.”
“It says here that Mrs Morrison is seventy three. Whit age ur ye, son?”
“Eleven.”
“So yer maw wis sixty two when she hid ye, wis she?”
“Aye, it jist shows ye, eh?”
“Aye, it must be interesting living in a single-end, eh?”
“Aye, ye’ve nae idea whit Ah hiv tae put up wae, Missus.”
“So, how much dis she owe?”
“Twenty five pound, four and fourpence and Ah’ve goat it aw here,” Bobby said, trying tae haun it o’er.
“Aye, well, ye jist take a seat o’er there, son, and somewan will be oot tae take the money aff ae ye in a minute.”
“Bit, ma maw says Ah hiv tae pay it before ten o’clock.”
“Aye, Ah’m sure she did.”
“Ah’ve goat the money, so who dae Ah haun it o’er tae?”
“Jist grab a seat and somewan will be wae ye in a minute.”
Chapter Twenty One
“Hellorerr
, hen, Ah’ve goat an appointment wae Sir Frank Owen.”
“Kin Ah hiv yer name, sir?”
“Tom Bryce. Ah’m wan ae the sub editors fae The Glesga Echo.”
“Wan moment, sir. If ye’d like tae take a seat, Ah’ll jist find oot if he’s available,” the wee slinky receptionist purred, picking up the phone wae they slinky fingers ae hers.
Tom wis nervous. He’d never met Sir Frank Owen before…the owner ae The Glesga Echo and a legend in his ain time. Depending oan who ye asked, determined whit answer ye goat back. Some said he wis a right basturt, while others stated that he wis worse than a right basturt. Tom hid jist arrived hame when Ingrid hid taken the call. He hidnae hid time tae come tae the phone as he’d been sitting relaxing oan the cludgie, setting aboot scooping oot the dirt fae under they fingernails ae his using the thick bit ae nail that he’d peeled aff ae his thumb wae his teeth two seconds earlier. It hid been ideal fur the job. It wis pointed at each end and hid a nice wee curve oan it that hid allowed him tae scoop the dirt oot back tae the quick. He’d heard the phone in the distance. It hid rang fur aboot five rings and jist when he’d been aboot tae snib whit he wis daeing in the bud, he’d heard her pick it up. He’d strained tae hear whit she wis saying.
“Ah kin jist go and get him the noo, sir. Well, he’s sitting oan the cludgie, bit Ah’m sure he’ll be fine tae come tae the phone if ye’ll only gie him a minute. Aye, okay, Ah’ll tell him when he re-appears. Thank ye fur calling, sir. Aye, and the same tae yersel, sir. Ah will. Bye, sir.”