Run Johnboy Run: The Glasgow Chronicles 2

by Todd, Ian

  Chapter Sixteen

  It wis Friday morning and they’d jist been escorted fae the dining room alang tae the concert hall by Rolled Back Neck, who wis wearing a face like thunder. No only hid Baby goat mair good behaviour ticks, so wis getting oot fur another day oan Saturday, bit Silent, Tony, Joe and Johnboy hid goat a tick each as well. They wur aw chuffed fur Baby, who’d whispered o’er tae them no tae get any ‘fucking funny ideas’ as he wisnae coming back this time. When they arrived in front ae the stage, they wur telt jist tae hing aboot and no get in anywan’s way or they’d be evicted back tae their hutch across in the hut. The only people in the room wur The Mankys and Basil Brush, the director and concert organiser, bit there wis a definite buzz aboot the place, as this wis the first full dress rehearsal day fur the concert. They wur waiting fur everywan tae finally move their gear o’er fae the hut. No surprisingly, Rolled Back Neck hid reminded them that noo the hut wis becoming vacant, any shite oot ae them and they’d be back there pronto. He’d also reminded them that he wis keeping his eyes oan them.

  “Ye might be fooling everywan else aboot here, bit ye don’t fool me,” the prick hid said efter he’d let them intae the room.

  “So, whit’s the story aboot then?” Johnboy mistakenly asked Basil.

  “It’s a cross between ‘South Pacific’ and ‘The Jolson Story,’ wae a wee bit ae ‘The King and I’ slung in fur good measure,” Basil answered, tae their blank expressions.

  “Whit, three films in wan?”

  “Musicals, Taylor, musicals. The actual acting is secondary, so it is…the same as in the real films,” Basil lisped.

  “Dis that mean the concert’s gonnae go oan fur aboot six hours then?” Johnboy persisted.

  “Eh? Whit the fuck ur ye oan aboot, lad?” the thespian lisped again, looking across tae the door, where Rolled Back Neck wis sitting, waiting tae welcome the cast when they arrived.

  “If each film lasts aboot two hours each, dis that mean...”

  “Naw, naw, naw, naw, ye stupid, stupid, boy. Ah’m condensing them aw thegither intae the wan film. That’s whit makes it an original production, so it dis,” The Director pouted, talking tae Johnboy as if he wis thick or something.

  “So, whit’s the actual story aboot then?” Joe asked in exasperation.

  “Right, get this, ye’ll bloody-well love it and be impressed, despite the fact ye won’t understaun a bloody thing. Ah’ve done aw the scriptwriting masel, so it’s totally original. We’re at war, at least the yanks ur, and there’s a whole battalion stuck oot oan a tropical island, surrounded by the Japs. HQ…that’s headquarters by the way, need tae get a message intae the base commander, tae let him know there’s a Frog in their midst, who’s a spy…”

  “A Frog?”

  “… some French basturt, who’s passing aw the intelligence oan tae they wee Jappos, aboot everything that’s gaun oan aw o’er the island.”

  “Why kin they no jist radio it through?” Joe asked, muddying the waters, as baith Basil and Johnboy slung him a dirty look.

  “Because the Japs will be lugging in, that’s why,” Basil retorted, raising they fluttering eyes ae his up tae the ceiling.

  “Kin they no jist use Morse code then?”

  “Look, they Japs might be wee slanty-eyed yella fuckers, bit they’re no stupid, so they’re no. Look whit happened at Pearl Harbour, eh?” Basil challenged.

  “Aye, Ah suppose,” Joe agreed, clearly no convinced.

  “Anyway, it’s important that they get a message oan tae the island, tae warn the commander, so back at HQ…that’s headquarters by the way…they manage tae get a haud ae Al Jolson…”

  “Al Jolson?” Tony, Joe and Johnboy aw exclaimed thegither.

  “Aye, Al Jolson. They then whack a loin cloth oan him tae make sure he’s decent, before parachuting him behind enemy lines in amongst aw the local natives...ye follow?” Basil demanded, jist aboot tae shoot that load ae his in his good cavalry twills as The Mankys, including Silent, nodded their heids up and doon. “Al then gets aw the natives organised thegither intae a fighting force, before getting them tae show him the way tae the base, where he kin pass oan the message aboot the Froggie spy.”

  Silence.

  “The fact that Al is as black as two in the morning, the same as them, means they trust him. Ye’re okay as long as ye’re no yella or even white, wae they local natives…who jist happen tae be heid-hunters as well, by the way.”

  Silence.

  “Ur youse still wae me, so far, boys?” The Lisp lisped in excitement, looking at them like some demented extra oot ae a Boris Karloff film.

  “Ah thought Al Jolson wis awready white, or hiv Ah goat that wrang?” Johnboy asked fae in amongst the puzzled expressions.

  “Exactly. Noo, aw they Yankee–doodle–doo sojers, who ur guarding the perimeter fence tae the camp, ur aw trigger happy as fuck, so...and ye’ll like this bit...rather than hiv this black-arsed undercover native geezer, wae a loin cloth wrapped roond his Kerr’s Pinks, boldly marching up tae the gate, demanding tae speak tae the commandant, Al nips under a waterfall near the perimeter and gets cleaned up and then marches intae the place tae expose that dirty fucking Frog and his pals,” Basil whooped in triumph, eyes blazing.

  “Is this a comedy then?” Johnboy asked, no being able tae contain himsel.

  “Eh? Whit the fuck makes ye think that, ya dafty, ye?” Basil retorted indignantly, looking at Johnboy as if it wis him that wis the mad basturt aboot the place.

  “Well, Ah kin vaguely picture Al Jolson wandering aboot the jungle singing ‘My Mammy’ and ‘By The Light Ae The Silvery Moon’, seeing as it’ll be dark in amongst aw they trees oan the South Pacific island. Ah’ve nae doubt ‘Bali Hai’ will go doon a treat, the same as ‘Happy Talk’ wae aw they natives, bit where the fuck dis ‘The King And I’ come in?” Johnboy stupidly asked The Mad Hatter.

  “Well, Al’s gonnae hiv tae persuade the king ae the jungle tae let his men go wae him. That means Ah’ll be able tae slip in ‘Getting Tae Know Ye’ fae ‘The King And I,’” Basil retorted defensively.

  “And who’s playing Mitzi Gaynor then?” Johnboy asked.

  “Who’s he?” Joe butted in, looking bamboozled and trying tae keep up.

  “She’s the wan who plays Nellie Forbush, the French guy’s bit ae stuff in ‘South Pacific.’ She goat an Oscar,” Johnboy said, tae approving nods fae The Thespian, who wis aboot pishing himsel wae excitement.

  “Miss Flaw. She’s agreed tae dae that part,” Basil informed them wae a wink.

  “Whit? Fanny Flaw’s playing Nellie Furrybush? Ah’d love tae see that poster ootside The Carlton picture hoose oan a Saturday efternoon,” Joe chipped in tae laughter.

  “So, who’s playing Al Jolson then?” Tony wanted tae know, speaking fur the first time.

  “The Foster brothers. Wan before the waterfall scene and wan efter he supposedly washes the soot aff, exposing his true identity. Nowan will know the difference when the lights ur low. Ah’m no allowed tae use real water in case Ah make a mess, so Ah’m no. Thank God we’ve goat a set ae real twins in the place, although their acting’s shite. Think ae two left feet and double it.”

  “And ye don’t think the natives will be intelligent enough tae suss oot he’s no really wan ae them then?” Johnboy continued, doubt creeping intae that voice ae his.

  “This is the movies, wae real performance art thrown in, Taylor. Everything’s no as it seems. It wid amaze ye how convincing special effects ur wae a live audience,” enthused Sergio Leone.

  “And ye think this’ll work then?”

  “Whit’s no tae work? Ah’ve been writing this since last year’s production ae ‘Snow White - Fae Here Tae Eternity.’ Ah only hid six months tae work oan that wan and that went doon a storm, if ma memory serves me well,” Basil bragged happily, suddenly rushing away fae them tae direct a squad ae actors who’d jist arrived oan the scene, carrying boxes ae costumes.

  “Kin we no postpone the escape fur wan day, T
ony? Please?” Johnboy pleaded, straight-faced.

  “Why?”

  “Because Ah’m gonnae be bloody sick as a parrot no getting tae see this concert.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  So, oan the Saturday before the concert, Baby hid gone hame oan his second day oot. Tony and Joe hid taken him aside and telt him how much they’d appreciated his sacrifice the previous week.

  “Fuck’s sake, nae problem, boys. Ye wid dae the same fur me. Jist don’t fucking ask me again, eh?” he’d said, as they’d aw laughed.

  Efter supper, later oan that night, the leave bus arrived back fae the station, jist as they wur setting up a Shamrock versus The Mankys snooker competition. As expected, Baby, who wis their best player, didnae come back aff the bus wae the other boys. This encouraged Joe, who never betted, tae put his next day’s pudding oan the table. No wanting tae miss oot, Johnboy and Tony followed suit. Aw the uglies, who wurnae very bright at the best ae times, rose tae the challenge. Silent played Freckles first and goat his arse thrashed, much tae everywan’s surprise. Johnboy then beat Minky eventually, efter a mind-numbing marathon. It took Minky aboot five minutes tae take every shot, due tae his tactics ae whinging and telling Johnboy how good his next shite shot wis gonnae be. Tony then beat Tottie in aboot three minutes flat. The grand finale wis between Minky and Joe. Everywan knew Minky wis shite.

  “Ah hope it’s rhubarb crumble the morra,” Johnboy said loudly.

  “Naw, it’s Sunday. It’ll be ma favourite…breid and butter pudding,” Joe replied, chalking the cue.

  “Ah don’t gie a shite whit it is, as long as it’s wan ae theirs Ah’m eating,” Tony said tae the laughs fae the others.

  “Right, mugs away then?” Joe asked.

  “So, that’ll be you then,” Minky shot back.

  “Fair enough, Ah’m no proud,” Joe retorted, leaning o’er the table, ready tae break aff.

  The game wis then brought tae a thundering staunstill.

  “Hellorerr, ya bunch ae fuds, ye!” Baby Huey announced, as everywan roond the snooker table gawped at him in surprise. “Fuck’s sake, whit’s wrang wae youse? Ye wid think ye’ve jist seen a ghost,”

  Baby grinned as he waddled o’er tae join them.

  “We hiv. Whit the fuck ur ye daeing back here, ya fat basturt, ye?” Freckles demanded.

  “This widnae be a wee cheeky competition noo, wid it?” Baby asked, ignoring the question.

  “Aye, and ye’re in the final. Ye’re playing Joe,” Minky said, haunin o’er the cue as the uglies aw laughed.

  Baby, as expected, wiped the flair wae Joe.

  “Whit wur we playing fur anyway?” Baby asked, efter sinking the black.

  “Right, Baby, why ur ye back here then?” Freckles asked him again, efter the game, as everywan wis settling doon fur a game ae Bella.

  “Ye kin blame they fuds,” Baby replied, nodding across tae The Mankys.

  “We never asked ye tae come back,” Johnboy retorted.

  “Naw, bit that fucking pal ae yours did. Bella!” Baby shouted glumly, throwing doon a Queen ae Hearts oan tap ae Patsy’s Seven ae Diamonds.

  “Whit pal?” Joe asked, as Baby scooped up a Ten ae Diamonds wae an ace in the next haun.

  “Paul.”

  “Paul?” they aw shot back.

  “Aye, Superman himsel.”

  “Dae ye no mean Super-prick?” Freckles asked tae titters fae his ugly pals.

  “He’s oot?”

  “Aye, he fucked aff fae St Ninian’s last week. He’s holed up in a tenement hoose doon at yer end ae McAslin Street, Johnboy.”

  Everywan started tae throw questions at Baby aw at wance, bit he wis hivving none ae it.

  “Look, Ah know fuck aw and Ah telt him fuck aw.”

  “So, how come we didnae see ye coming aff the bus then?” Tony demanded.

  “That’s whit Ah’ve been trying tae tell youse, bit Ah cannae get a bloody word in edgeways. Paul drove me back here, so he knew where tae come. We heided fur the train station doon in Paisley and then followed the school bus back. He drapped me aff doon at the bottom ae the drive. He says he’ll be waiting at the bottom ae the drive next Wednesday night, wance youse get oot through the windae.”

  A wee while later, wance aw the excitement hid died doon, Tony took Baby aside and asked him if Paul knew the reason they wur escaping.

  “Tony, Ah telt ye, Ah never said a word tae that mad basturt other than tae tell him when youse wur intending tae fuck aff. When Ah telt him there wis nae chance ae me coming back here again fae ma hame leave, he persuaded me otherwise…if ye know whit Ah mean.”

  “Naw, whit dae ye mean, Baby?” Tony asked him.

  “Aw, don’t you fucking start, Gucci. Ah hid enough ae that fae him. Ah better get mair good ticks this week or Ah’ll be spending fucking Christmas in here, thanks tae youse basturts,” Baby said miserably before stomping aff tae join his pals.

  The other shocking thing that happened wis Patsy getting shipped oot and up tae the closed block at Rossie Farm. Green Fingers hid been up tae his auld tricks again. He wis well-known fur rubbing his hard-on against any ae the greenhoose keepers who made the mistake ae bending o’er and picking up a box anywhere near him. Patsy, who should’ve known better, hid come doon the middle ae the greenhoose wae a box ae leeks in baith hauns and hid been forced tae squeeze past the pervo oan route and that hid been that. Wan ae the Parkheid boys, who’d been working ootside, oan the other side ae the glass, hid telt Joe that wance Patsy hid squeezed his arse alang the front ae the dirty basturt’s troosers, he’d drapped the leak box.

  “Ah felt that, ya dirty basturt, ye!” Patsy hid shouted, before rapidly whacking the teacher aboot his mooth wae two massive leeks.

  Everywan agreed that life widnae be the same withoot that girning wee basturt roaming aboot the place, upsetting everywan, bit life hid tae move oan. As the date ae the concert approached, The Mankys spent maist ae their time hinging aboot as there wisnae much fur them tae dae, other than watch aw the actors coming and gaun. They wur, however, taking particular note as tae which songs wur the loudest. Johnboy hid always loved gaun tae the pictures. It wis wan ae his favourite pastimes ootside in Freedom Street. Although he could probably sing aw the words backwards tae maist ae the songs fae the famous musicals, especially the auld Al Jolson wans, he’d never been this close tae actually seeing the real thing wae real actors in action. Johnboy loved it. Wan ae the Cumbie boys fae the Gorbals nearly caused a riot when he goat intae a fight wae a wee midget fae the Maryhill Fleet fur gieing him a bit ae cheek while he wis perched oan tap ae a wee shelf, stuck oan Johnboy’s good painted mountain, singing ‘Ah’m Sitting Oan Tap Ae The World’. The Maryhill midget, who wis an aggressive wee fucker and wan ae the stars fae the previous year’s Christmas concert show, couldnae contain himsel any longer and let fly wae a greaser that missed Cumbie Boy, bit hit Emile De Becque right between the eyes, jist as he started the second verse ae ‘Some Enchanted Evening’.

  “Wis that you, ya wee fucking baldy bachle?” Emile screamed in rage, running across the stage tae the mountain tae try and drag the midget aff his perch, who in his ain defence, wis using they tiny feet ae his as clubs oan the singing French spy’s napper.

  Meanwhile, Al Jolson…Johnboy wisnae sure which wan…landed oan Emile’s back. The weight ae this back-stabbing assault, forced Emile tae take a nosedive straight intae the ravine that hid taken Johnboy aboot four hours tae paint, bringing the mountain and the Maryhill midget doon aboot everywan’s ears. Basil wis running aboot shouting ‘Cut! Cut!’ while three square goes, involving two Yankee sailors, three natives and a maiden in a straw hula skirt, wur aw knocking fuck oot ae each other oan different parts ae the stage. Order oan the island wis restored when the heavy brigade arrived, efter Rolled Back Neck gied up trying tae sort it aw oot by himsel and pressed the alarm button oan the wall.

  “Right, people, listen up, we’re gonnae hiv a break fur an hour tae allow oor tempers tae cool doon. Gucci? Se
e if yersel and the other stagehauns kin fix the set by the time we get back,” Basil shouted, trooping his still growling thespian warriors oot the door and aff tae the hut, under heavy escort.

  “Stagehauns? Ah thought that basturt telt us we wur set designers,” Joe exclaimed, aw hurt.

  The hour repair job took the rest ae the day and well intae the evening. The maist damage hid been inflicted oan Mount Puncak Jaya. They hid tae take the whole panel aff and replace maist ae the hardboard backing. Efter that, nothing too exciting occurred as the days and hours dragged by till the Wednesday…the day ae the concert.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The meeting wis coming tae an end. Fanny hid jist finished reporting that, as far as the Toonheid crowd wur concerned, the rehabilitation programme hid been a success. Even The Grand Master, Beanpole and Rolled Back Neck hid made positive noises. Fanny knew they wur making a compromising concession, seeing as they’d been successful in getting McSwiggan shipped oot and up tae the closed block at Rossie Farm. He’d scudded Mr Green across the face wae wan ae his prize leeks in the greenhoose tae his severe injury. That hid been sufficient evidence fur severe retribution. The heidmaster hid thrashed McSwiggan’s buttocks oan the very table they wur noo sitting roond and then he wis gone. The howls ae pain and anger fae the boy, as the sound ae the leather tawse walloped his buttocks hid been horrendous. She’d been ashamed tae see that some ae the teachers hid appeared wae a spring in their steps that day, as they’d gone aboot their business, whistling happily tae themsels. She’d been saddened by the violence oan baith sides. She’d felt that, wae a bit mair effort, the school could’ve achieved a mair positive outcome, although she’d hid some sympathy when she saw Mr Green’s two swollen lacerated lips.

  “Come in,” The Heidmaster shouted, in response tae the knock oan the door, as everywan turned tae look at the face that appeared.

  “Heidmaster?”

  “Come in, take a seat. I’ve asked Mr Brush to give us a quick rundown on the evening programme. So, without further ado, it’s over to you, Mr Brush.”