Parly Road: The Glasgow Chronicles 1

by Ian Todd

  “Skull, sit doon and hiv a rest, ya stupid bampot.”

  “Ah knew that wid happen wance Ah goat gaun, ya pair ae cowardly jam-rags.”

  They sat looking at their haundiwork. They wur sitting under the tree in the high back garden, the wan where Buttercup hid escaped fae, overlooking the back ae the school. They’d started wae Olive’s class, smack bang in the middle ae the second flair and hid worked their way alang each side ae it. Then they’d moved up tae the tap storey wans. There wur ten windaes running the length ae the building. Coonting the bottom classes, there wur thirty big windaes in total. Each windae hid aboot forty panes ae glass in it.

  “Ah widnae want tae be the poor basturt that his tae clean up aw that broken glass,” Tony mused, nodding towards the damage.

  “That’s whit they get paid fur. And anyway, we hivnae touched the bottom wans yet.”

  “We must’ve tanned in aboot a hunner at least.”

  “And the rest.”

  “Dae ye think we’ve done mair than a hunner?”

  “Skull, go and start coonting the broken windaes.”

  Jist when Skull goat tae fifty two, a loud voice broke the silence.

  “Hellorerr, ya bunch ae fanny-pads!”

  “Joe!” they aw screamed, jumping up.

  “Aye, did ye think Ah’d goat lost?” he said wae a grin.

  “So, whit did ye get?” Tony asked.

  “Twenty eight days in The Grove, and Paul is still oan remand.”

  “Remand?” Johnboy asked.

  “Aye, he goat charged first wae attempted murder and then it goat drapped tae serious assault oan that broon-arsed shitehoose, Jobby.”

  “Jobby?” they aw said at wance.

  “Aye, Paul lay there watching that daft, skelly-eyed eejit, Crisscross, whack Jobby wae his baton oan the side ae his napper. He went doon like a sack ae shite. He never knew whit hit him.”

  “So, whit his that tae dae wae Paul?”

  “Aye, well, they papped the blame oan tae Paul and he’s noo oan remand fur three months. He reckons he’s gonnae get approved school.”

  “Dirty treacherous basturts!”

  “Ah see ye’re still hinging aroond then, Johnboy?”

  “Aye, Ah cannae shake them aff.”

  “So, whit hiv ye been up tae since ma wee holiday?” asked Joe, lifting up a stane.

  “Bottom left, three in,” Skull shouted as Joe scored a bull’s-eye wae his first shot.

  “We’ve been screwing shoaps up and doon Parly Road and a couple in Stirling Road,” Skull said, lifting a stane.

  “Bottom left, four in,” Joe said.

  They watched the stane disappear through an awready broken windae.

  “Shit! That windae moved, so it did.”

  “Did ye get much stuff? Middle right, two in fae the tap right,” Joe said, as his stane scored another bull’s-eye.

  “Aw, fur Christ’s sake, Joe, ya prick, ye,” Skull howled, walking aff in search ae a stane.

  “Naw, bits and bobs. They bizzies ur hounding us aw o’er the place. They’re pulling us up every five minutes, glaring at us fae the inside ae their wee squad car before we kin even walk a block.”

  “We sold a coo tae The Big Man.”

  “Whit? A moo-coo?”

  “Aye, Ah saw it first,” Skull claimed.

  “Aye, if it wisnae fur Skull, it wid still be roaming aboot looking fur some daft basturt tae cart it aff tae Horsey John’s tae make it intae sausagemeat.”

  “We goat three quid fur it.”

  “Three quid? Brilliant! Ah hope ye set ma share aside.”

  “Aye, we split nine bob three ways and banked the other two pound eleven...which reminds me, Johnboy. Ur ye gonnae show us where we kin plant the stash?”

  “Aye, bit we’ll hiv tae wait until it’s dark so nobody clocks us.”

  They wur jist aboot tae start a new competition oan the bottom section when Calum, The Big Man’s runner, arrived at the tap ae the garden, heiding their way.

  “Ye’re a bloody hard wan tae catch up wae, Tony. Ah’ve been up and doon the Toonheid aw day looking fur ye.”

  “We’ve been here aw efternoon, putting in a wee bit ae practice.”

  “Shit, Ah’m glad Ah won’t be picking up aw that glass. The cleaners will be oan overtime fur a month,” Calum said, jumping up and doon wae his knees hitting his chest.

  “That’ll be ma ma then,” Johnboy said tae laughter.

  “Fur fuck’s sake, Calum, ma neck’s killing me, watching ye bouncing up an doon like a drunken yo-yo,” Tony said, as aw their heids nodded up and doon following Calum’s knees-up.

  “Aye, Calum, you try talking at the same time as yer heid’s nodding up and doon like some hungry mutt and see how you like it.”

  “Force ae habit. Is that better noo?” Calum said, putting his hauns oan his hips and swaying fae side tae side.

  “Perfect,” Tony said, wondering whit Calum wis efter.

  “The Big Man wants tae talk tae youse.”

  “Who? Us?” Skull asked, looking across at Tony.

  “Aye, and then the Murphys want a wee word...separately.”

  “The Murphys?” Tony, Joe and Skull aw asked at wance, sounding nervous.

  “Aye.”

  “Whit the hell dae the Murphys want wae us then?” Skull demanded, looking as if he wis jist aboot tae shite they kecks ae his.

  “Ah’ve nae idea. Ah’m jist the runner aboot here.”

  “The Big Man and the Murphys?”

  “Separately,” Calum confirmed.

  “Fuck that, Ah’m no gaun,” Skull said, shaking his heid.

  “Where?” Tony asked him.

  “The McAslin Bar. And ye better get yer skates oan. That wis aboot three hours ago. Ah widnae keep him hinging aboot, seeing as he’s in a shite mood.”

  “Aw, fucking nice wan, Calum, ya bloody bampot, ye. Whit did ye hiv tae go and say that fur, ya selfish shitehoose, eh?” Skull whined.

  “Sorry, boys, Ah’m only passing oan the message,” Calum said, touching his toes.

  “Any idea whit they’re efter, Calum?”

  “Naw, they don’t tell me anything apart fae the message.”

  “Ah’m no bothered aboot The Big Man. It’s they Murphy pricks that ur the problem,” Joe said.

  “Skull, ye’ve no upset any ae the Murphys recently, hiv ye?” Tony asked him, as they aw looked o’er at Skull.

  “Aye, Ah bloody well breathed the last time they saw me. Ah hate they Micks. Ah’ve done nothing tae them apart fae throwing a cat in the door ae their cabin and pishing oan wan ae their doos wan time. Ah know they don’t know aboot it because they’ve spoken tae me since and no done anything aboot it.”

  “There ye go then. They probably jist want ye tae dae something fur them. Anyway, Ah’ll need tae go. Ah’ll catch up wae youse later,” Calum said, stretching his neck while shoogling his shoulders up and doon.

  “Aye, thanks a bunch fur trying yer hardest tae find us,” Skull said sarcastically.

  “Nae bother, wee man,” Calum said wae a big grin, as he shot aff running up the garden, leaping o’er Buttercup’s gate in wan jump.

  “Prick that he is.”

  “Aw, shut up, Skull. It’s no his fault…he’s only daeing whit a runner’s supposed tae dae.”

  “It’s awright fur ye tae say that, Tony. Why the fuck could he no run in the opposite direction when he clocked us. That’s whit Ah want tae know?” Skull girned, starting tae get himsel intae a bit ae a stooshie.

  “Right, well, we’ll hiv tae check it oot. Joe, they won’t know ye’re oot, so ye kin miss this wan.”

  “There’s nae way Ah’m gaun near they Murphy pricks. Ah’ve done nothing wrang,” Skull announced defiantly, still sporting a worried expression oan his kisser.

  “Johnboy, here’s yer chance tae meet The Big Man and Danny, Mick and Shaun Murphy.”

  “They won’t hurt us, will they?”

  “Naw, bit if they dae, it’ll
only be a boot in the arse or oor ears will get skelped.”

  “Make sure ye’re between them and the door,” Skull advised helpfully, calming doon wance he realised he didnae hiv tae meet them.

  “So, whit’s the plan then?”

  “There isnae wan. We’ll jist hiv tae take the chance that we hivnae done anything tae hiv made them mad at us.”

  “It’s Shaun that ye hiv tae watch oot fur. He’ll walk roond behind ye and when he makes his move, ye won’t know it until he’s goat they big hauns ae his roond yer scrawny neck,” Skull advised, unwittingly touching his neck wae they manky fingers ae his.

  “Skull, we’ve done fuck aw tae annoy them.”

  “That’s whit they done tae ma da, the year efter Ah wis born.”

  “Whit did they dae?” Johnboy asked him.

  “They tried tae get ma da tae sell them wan ae his best doos, bit he widnae gie in tae them. A wee while later they came roond tae the hoose and set aboot him and he’s never worked or been oot ae the hoose since. Aw he dis aw day is glug sherry and pish himsel.”

  “Aye, they said he punted them a doo that wis diseased,” Joe said.

  “Wis it?” Johnboy asked.

  “Naw, it bloody well wisnae! They found oot later that it wis wan ae Flypast’s doos that hid TB. Whit a hiding they gied him as well. They say he goat the same as ma da did, bit it wisnae as bad.”

  “Aye, Ah know Flypast. He’s goat a cabin oot the back ae ma ma’s kitchen windae.”

  “Well, that’s the nice people that want tae speak tae us.”

  Efter playing a game ae fitba wae an empty beer tin fur an hour in the school playground, they slowly heided doon through the school oan tae St James Road and crossed intae McAslin Street. When they eventually goat tae the pub, Tony and Johnboy arranged tae meet Joe and Skull later oan tap ae the wall at the side ae the stables in Stanhope Street. Oan the way up McAslin Street, Johnboy hid asked how he’d know whit wan wis Shaun.

  “The three ae them ur aw big basturts wae blond hair,” Skull hid said.

  “Danny and Mick ur twins and ye’ll know Shaun by the Mars bar oan the side ae his coupon,” Joe hid added.

  “Aye, some mad wummin put a pint glass intae it. Ma ma said he howled like a wee bubbling wean in front ae everywan,” Joe hid chipped in.

  “He’d tried tae get aff wae the wummin in front ae her man and when she telt him tae fuck aff, he called her a pig. When her man stepped in, Shaun stuck the nut oan him and that put him oot ae the game. When her man went doon, she lifted her man’s pint glass and stuck it intae Shaun’s face,” Tony hid said.

  “The fact that everywan witnessed him take the liberty didnae matter a toss. The wummin and the man done a moonlight flit that night wae aw their weans and that wis that,” Joe hid said, snapping his fingers.

  “Did they ever catch up wae them?” Johnboy hid asked.

  “Fuck knows, bit it hisnae stoapped Shaun taking liberties.”

  As they walked in the front door ae The McAslin Bar, there wis an opening oan the left that said ‘Aff-sales’. A man and a wummin wur staunin grappling each other inside it, groaning like two dugs oan heat and slobbering aw o’er each other. They wur leaning o’er tae wan side and Johnboy could see the tap ae wan ae the wummin’s thighs, where her elastic garter wis digging intae the white flesh, keeping her stocking up. There wis a wee hatch that opened oan tae the bar and there wis a bottle ae Lanliq and four blue bottles ae Tennents lager sitting oan the coonter between the love birds and the staff side ae the bar.

  “C’moan Nancy, ya shameless hussy, ye. Gie’s yer money fur the carry-oot,” a female voice said through the opening.

  Oan the right, an auld wummin came oot ae a door that said ‘The Snug’ oan it. When Johnboy glanced past her, he could see a couple ae tables wae aw these auld wummin in their heid scarves sitting roond the wall seats, wae whit looked like a hauf pint and a nip glass in front ae them aw.

  “Awright, boys?” the auld yin asked, smiling wae a toothless grin, as she walked past them oot intae the street.

  Johnboy followed Tony through the double swing doors and the first thing that hit him wis the smoke and the racket. The smoke grabbed him by the throat and stung his eyes.

  “Hellorerr Kirsty. Is Big Pat aboot?” Tony asked.

  Johnboy knew before she answered him that it hid been her voice that he’d heard asking Nancy and lover-boy tae cough up their dosh fur the carry-oot. She didnae seem tae be that tall bit the blond beehive sitting like a giant candy floss bush oan tap ae her napper made Dusty Springfield’s look like a sparra’s nest. She wis wearing a tight v-neck jumper and her paps wur sticking oot like two boxing gloves o’er a tiny waist. She looked like a beautiful rose sticking oot ae a pile ae shite in that pub, Johnboy thought tae himsel.

  “Doon the bottom,” she said, walking doon tae the other end ae the bar, withoot glancing at them, which wis brilliant, as Johnboy and Tony soon furgoat why the hell they wur there in the first place, as they joined aw the rest ae the drooling hounds at the bar wae their tongues hinging oot, dribbling doon their chins, watching that arse disappear intae the haze ae blue smoke.

  It wis only when a big blond mean-looking basturt, wae a big Mars bar scar oan the side ae his face, stood up at the end ae the bar and spoke that Johnboy remembered why they wur there.

  “Kirsty, ma wee prairie flower. How aboot a drink fur yer favourite man?”

  They wur soon jolted back tae reality. Johnboy goat a wee thrill ae satisfaction tae see the look ae disgust oan her smacker as she wafted away fae them, heiding back up North.

  “That’s Kirsty,” Tony said above the din. “She trained as a hairdresser.”

  “Really?” Johnboy said, impressed, his eyes following the rose, alang wae everywan else’s in the place.

  When they reached the far end ae the bar, there wur two tables that hid plenty ae space aboot them. At wan sat the two twins, Danny and Mick, while Shaun, the liberty-taker, wis jist putting a roond doon in front ae them. At the other table, Pat Molloy, The Big Man, who wis the spitting image ae Desperate Dan fae the Beano, wis sitting reading The Greyhound News while wan ae his fingers wis shoogling aboot, knuckle deep, up his left nostril, trying tae catch a jelly fish by the look ae things. He wis sitting wae his feet oan tap ae a chair in front ae him as if he wis at hame. Johnboy tried no tae boak and even managed tae keep his burnt toast breakfast doon that he’d eaten eight hours earlier, by keeping his eyes away fae watching that finger daeing aw sorts ae brain damage. The Big Man wis wearing a stripy blue shirt and a shiny blue tie. He hid oan a fancy dark blue suit, wae a light coloured coat covering his shoulders, even though the place wis as hot as a gas oven. He’d a ring oan his right pinkie wae a big gold sovereign coin sitting oan tap ae it. Oan another stool, jist tae the left ae him, sat Horsey John’s right haun man, Tiny, the midget wae the club fit, whose two hauns wur gripping a big pint ae Guinness. Johnboy hid a strong urge tae suggest that he’d be better aff wae a hauf pint, when The Big Man looked up.

  “Tony, ya manky wee thieving toe-rag, ye. How ur ye daeing?” Desperate Dan asked, pulling oot his finger, making the same sound as Johnboy’s ma made when she pulled the cork oot ae her sherry bottle at Christmas and leaving a massive angry nostril that slowly started tae shrink back tae its normal size.

  “Fine, Pat.”

  “And who’s this manky wee arse-bandit wae the fancy Levis ye’ve goat wae ye the day?”

  “This is Johnboy.”

  The Big Man took his time, looking Johnboy up and doon.

  “So, where hiv youse been snow-dropping then?”

  “Alexandra Parade.”

  “Ah, that brings back the auld days tae me, that dis. Dae ye remember Alexandra Parade, boys?” he asked, looking o’er at the three blond gorillas.

  “Aye, Ah goat ma first pair ae underpants there,” wan ae the twins said, aw misty-eyed.

  “See whit we’ve aw goat in common then, boys? We aw started oot in the same wee cesspit, so we
did. It’s always good tae be reminded ae where ye came fae noo and again,” The Big Man said, looking at the manky pair in front ae him.

  “Er, ye wur wanting tae speak tae me, Pat?” Tony asked, bit The Big Man ignored him.

  “Tiny, go and get the boys a wee drink. They look awfully dry-moothed, staunin there in they fancy expensive jeans that some poor mug his worked aw week fur.”

  Wae that, the filthy basturt lifted the side ae his arse aff ae his chair and let oot a fart that sounded like a clap ae thunder above the racket in the bar. There wur loud guffaws fae somewhere behind Johnboy, followed by, “Fucking stoater, Big Man!”

  Stoater? Johnboy thought that The Big Man must’ve shat himsel. Even wae aw the smoke tae smother the smells in the place, The Big Man hid tae wave his Greyhound News furiously in front ae his nose tae get rid ae the smell ae shite that took o’er their side ae the bar.

  Meanwhile, Tiny arrived wae two hauf pints and set them doon in front ae Johnboy and Tony.

  “Tiny, hiv ye jist shat yersel again?” The Big Man asked in mock horror.

  “Probably,” Tiny said, reaching roond and touching his wee arse before sniffing his fingers and then grabbing his Guinness wae baith hauns again.

  Johnboy wis dying tae taste the beer, despite no knowing where the fuck Tiny’s tiny hauns hid been before they’d arrived, bit he’d decided tae take the lead fae Tony. Tony wis staunin there, trying tae look as if he widnae want tae be anywhere else in the world.

  “Trannys!” The Big Man finally said, looking at Tony.

  “Trannys?”

  “Ah need some trannys and Ah need them pronto.”

  “Nae bother.”

  “How much ur ye efter fur them?”

  “Ah’m no sure, it depends oan how many ye want.”

  “How many kin ye get me?”

  “It depends.”

  “Oan whit?”

  “Oan whit the fuck trannys ur,” Tony said, straight-faced.

  The Big Man slapped his fancy-suited knee, and let oot a roar ae laughter.

  “Ah knew ye didnae know whit the fuck Ah wis oan aboot, ya fly wee midden, ye. Ah wis jist trying tae see how long it wid take ye tae own up.”

  “So, whit’s a tranny when it hits ye oan the napper?” Tony asked, visibly relaxing, bit still no reaching fur the beer.