Parly Road: The Glasgow Chronicles 1

by Ian Todd

  “Nope,” Kirsty said, sitting oan her stool behind the bar, filing her fingernails, looking gorgeous, bit bored.

  “See that prick? Ah’m gonnae swing fur him wan ae these days, so Ah am,” The Big Man grumbled tae Shaun.

  “So, he hisnae goat ye a replacement yet?”

  “His he fuck…that’s the trouble. Ah knew Ah shouldnae hiv left it tae him.”

  “Bit that’s his job…there shouldnae be any bother.”

  “Ah’m telling ye…if he disnae come up wae the goods, Ah’m gonnae nail they baws ae his tae that lavvy door through there. See if Ah don’t.”

  “Ach, Ah widnae worry aboot it. He’s goat plenty ae talent working fur him.”

  “Aye, bit they’re aw shite. Ah went doon tae see him the other day there and he’d a few groups lined up. Every wan ae them nearly deafened the moths in ma wallet, they wur that loud.”

  “Wur they Country and Western?”

  “Kirsty, gaun see who that is, will ye?” The Big Man grumbled. “Country and Western? There wis plenty ae wee cowboys who should’ve been dumped in a hole oot in the country, if that’s whit ye mean.”

  “That bad, eh?”

  “It wis aw Beatles’ shite. The only crooner Ah could see and hear wis that prick MacDonald crooning oan aboot how this is whit people want tae hear nooadays.”

  “Hellorerr Pat,” Calum shouted fae the far end ae the bar, power walking between the bar and the empty tables at a hunner miles an hour

  “How did ye get oan wae Frankie then? His he goat me a Country and Western group yet?”

  “He his,” Calum said, eyeing up the beauty at the bar, who wis busy concentrating oan daeing her nails.

  “Well, fur fuck’s sakes, Calum, at least gie me a hint. Whit ur they called this time?”

  “Oh right, sorry,” he said, turning tae The Big Man and Shaun. “Think ae washing machines and fridges,” Calum said, stretching fae side tae side wae his erms oot like a spitfire.

  “Ah cannae bloody believe this. Ah’m surrounded by fucking eejits,” The Big Man growled, looking o’er at Kirsty, who smirked, looking o’er her nail file at them. “Calum, Ah’m only fucking jesting ye, ya bampot, ye. Spit it oot. Whit the fuck ur the group called?”

  “Oh, right…Zanussi and the Frigidaires.”

  “Ye whit?” The Big Man asked, looking as if he suddenly needed a shite.

  “Zanussi and the Frigidaires,” Calum repeated, staunin still fur wance. “He says they’re fae the Highlands and aw they chookter birds throw their knickers at them oan stage, jist like that Tom Jones wan. He says wan ae them played in Nashville, somewhere doon in England and another played in a place called Milan which he thinks is in France.”

  “Well, that’s a fucking lie fur a start. Ah heard that aw that Highland fanny don’t wear anything under their skirts and it’s the same wae the guys,” volunteered Shaun.

  “Kirsty, wid ye fling yer knickers at a group called Zanussi and…the whit?”

  “Frigidaires,” said Calum.

  “…Frigidaires?” asked The Big Man.

  “Somehow, Ah don’t think so.”

  “Wid ye fling yer knickers at any group?” he asked, as Shaun and Calum looked o’er wae interest.

  “As if.”

  “Ah’ll take that as a naw then. Right, Calum, get yer arse back doon tae that Frankie wan and tell him that Ah’m fair chuffed, bit if they cancel, like Charlie Crevice and the Pyles did, he’d better get tae fuck oot ae the toon as fast as they wee rickity bow legs ae his kin carry him. Hiv ye goat that?”

  “Nae bother, Pat,” Calum said, power walking doon towards the bat-wing doors.

  “And Calum?”

  “Aye, Pat?”

  “Don’t let any ae that bunnet brigade in oan yer way oot.”

  “Right, Pat.”

  “And another thing, Calum?”

  “Aye?”

  “Tell Frankie, that’s twenty quid deducted fae the eighty he owes me.”

  “Right, Pat.”

  “Right, then, whit hiv Ah done wae ma list?”

  “Here ye go, Pat,” Shaun said, haunin it o’er.

  “Any faces Ah’ve missed?”

  “It looks okay tae me, bit...”

  “Bit whit?”

  “Whit the fuck ur ye inviting that JP Donnelly fur? Ah cannae staun that snivelling wee hyena.”

  “Shaun, that’s ma political connection. He’s worth his weight, so he is.”

  “Ah’d like tae punch the lights oot ae that smarmy face ae his.”

  “The problem wae you, Shaun, is that aw ye want tae dae is hurt people. Ah get a good dividend fae that wee snivelling prick. As long as we kin keep that snout ae his in the trough, he’s useful.”

  “Ah still widnae trust the wee cockroach.”

  “Kirsty, gaun see who that is, will ye? It’s like fucking Sauchiehall Street in here this morning,” The Big Man bawled, glaring up the bar towards the door.

  “Horsey John sent me aroond wae this, Pat” Tiny announced oan his arrival, limping doon the bar, humphing a big bag ae meat oan his back. “Where dae ye want it?”

  “Jist put it in the storeroom, Tiny,” Shaun said, nodding towards the door beside the lavvies.

  “And the other thing, Shaun, he’s goat the bizzies tied doon, chasing up aw that young Shamrock and Toonheid Toi mob who ur stabbing fuck oot ae each other while we’re earning oor daily bread. Tiny, don’t let any ae that bunnet brigade in when ye go oot. Tell them it’s only hauf ten,” The Big Man said, nodding.

  “Right, Pat, bit they’re starting tae get restless. That same auld jakey that tried tae stick the heid oan me when Ah came in yesterday…the wan who couldnae reach doon far enough wae that napper ae his…is at it again.”

  “Which wan?”

  “The wan that Kirsty managed tae drag aff ae me,” Tiny said, looking o’er, aw misty-eyed, at the patron saint ae midgets who wis back sitting oan her stool, sawing away at another fingernail, ignoring them aw.

  “Whit dae ye want tae dae aboot last night’s escapade?” Shaun asked him, efter Tiny disappeared.

  “Ah don’t want tae talk aboot it the noo ‘cause Ah’m wanting tae stay in a good mood. We’ll talk aboot it later. Okay?”

  “Aye, nae bother, Pat.”

  “Kirsty, gaun see who that is, will ye? Ah kin see Ah’m gonnae get fuck-aw done the day,” The Big Man whined, resignation finally creeping intae his voice.

  “Pat, Pat, how ur ye daeing the day?” squeaked JP Donnelly, ignoring Shaun.

  “In the name ae the wee man,” The Big Man exclaimed. “Wis Ah no jist saying, Shaun, that Ah wondered how JP wis daeing, seeing as Ah hivnae seen him in a wee while?”

  “Aye, ye did that, Pat,” said Shaun. “Listen, if it’s okay wae you, Ah’m gonnae shoot the craw as Ah’ve goat a meeting at wan o’clock roond at the cabin.”

  “Aye, that’s fine, Shaun. It’ll gie me and JP a wee chance tae catch up wae each other.”

  “Fine. It’s nice tae see ye, JP.”

  “Lovely tae see ye, Shaun,” JP said pleasantly, unable tae control the twitch in his arse and the shiver running doon his spine.

  “And how ur ye daeing the day, Kirsty? Hiv ye still no found another wee job as a hairdresser yet, hen?”

  “Naw.”

  “Listen, Kirsty, go and make up a wee parcel fur JP wae that lovely meat that Ah’ve jist goat freshly delivered, will ye? There’s a good lassie.”

  “Ah’m jist in the door and ye’re spoiling me awready, Pat,” JP grunted, wae a big happy smile.

  “And gie the cooncillor a large Bells while ye’re at it.”

  Kirsty went o’er and plonked the whisky and the water jug doon oan the table, spilling a wee drap ae the whisky, before disappearing intae the store room.

  “Ah get the impression she disnae like politicians,” JP said, pouring in the water and taking a sip.

  “Aye, she’s a sloppy cow, that wan. Whit kin ye dae though? That’s whit happens when y
e employ the professional class. The paying customers like her though, and they always come first in business, as you well know,” The Big Man said, no having long tae wait fur whit he knew wis coming.

  “Pat, Pat, whit’s gaun oan wae you and Liam? He’s awfully upset, ye know,” JP said in his maist sympathetic and soothing voice.

  “He’s upset? Whit aboot me, JP? Ah’ve done fuck aw wrang apart fae gaun aboot ma ain business.”

  “Aye, Ah know, bit it’ll no be good fur anywan if ye’re hivving wee run-ins wae the local sergeants noo, will it?”

  “Liam and that Big Jim Stewart need tae stay oot ae ma road, JP. Ah’m no hivving them messing me aboot and especially no embarrassing me in front ae wan ae ma boys.”

  “Ah know, Pat, and he knows it as well.”

  “So, whit the fuck is he daeing, messing me aboot then? Whit’s it goat tae dae wae him whit me and the boys ur daeing?” The Big Man pouted, aw hurt.

  “Ye’re putting him in an awkward position, Pat, and aw he’s worried aboot is that ye’re upsetting the apple-cart.”

  “He’s the wan that came tae me. Ah didnae invite him in, ye know.”

  “Aye, bit ye wur seen and reported oan.”

  “By who?”

  “Ah don’t know. Aw Ah know is that he didnae hiv any choice.”

  “So, ye’re saying he wis daeing me a favour?”

  “Whit Ah’m saying is that…if ye’re up tae something that’s blatant, they’ll hiv tae respond accordingly.”

  “So, Ah should be thanking them?”

  “Ah’m no saying that. Whit Ah’m asking ye tae dae is put whit happened last night intae perspective and let the dust settle. We need tae work thegither fur the benefit ae the community.”

  “Aye, well, maybe ye’re right. Tell Liam Ah appreciate his interference if it wis fur the benefit ae us aw.”

  “Aye, Ah’ll dae that, Pat.”

  “Kirsty! Gie JP another large Bells, hen.”

  “Aw, ye’re a wee stoater, so ye ur, Kirsty, hen,” JP said, as Kirsty slammed the nip doon, spilling hauf ae it, before turning oan her heels and returning wae a broon paper parcel tied up wae string.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The boys wur sitting oan the wall behind the Macbraynes’ bus garage looking at the cabin. It wis aboot twenty feet high wae a sloping roof that the holar boxes and landing board jutted oot ae the middle ae. It must’ve been aboot twelve feet by twelve feet square and wis covered wae corrugated sheets wae a thick coating ae black tar covering it. The door intae it wis aboot ten feet aff the ground. It looked as if a tank widnae be able tae get intae it. There wisnae any sign ae movement aboot the place.

  “Dae ye think he’s there?” asked Skull.

  “Aye, if he wisnae, there widnae be a couple ae hens oan the board,” said Joe, looking aboot the sky tae see if there wur any doos oan the go. “And he widnae hiv the ladder up tae the door either.”

  “Whit dae ye think he wants fae us?”

  “Fur Christ’s sake, Skull…fur the hunnerth time, Ah’ve nae idea.”

  “So, how dis it work?” Johnboy asked tae nowan in particular.

  “Whit?” Tony and Joe asked thegither.

  “Fleeing the doos.”

  “Seriously?” Skull asked him.

  “Aye, Ah’ve never done it.”

  “It’s pretty straight forward. Two guys hiv a dookit near each other. The first guy puts oot a wee hen and the other guy puts oot a doo,” Skull said, scanning the rooftaps oan the other side ae Parly Road.

  “Or guy number wan puts oot a doo and guy number two puts oot a hen,” Joe said, nodding.

  “Sometimes Ah wonder why the fuck Ah bother letting you run aboot wae us, Joe, ya bampot, ye. Ye’ve jist said the same thing as Ah hiv, only in reverse, ya daft eejit, ye.”

  “Anyway, the idea is that whitever pigeon kin get the other pigeon back tae their dookit is the winner,” Joe said, ignoring Skull.

  “By that, he means, if the guy wae the hen gets the doo tae follow his bird back in the hope ae it getting its Nat King Cole, he gets tae keep the doo,” Tony said.

  “This means that he then owns it and kin dae whit the fuck he wants wae it,” Joe continued.

  “So, whit happens if guy number wan ends up wae a dookit full ae doos and hens?” Johnboy asked.

  “Then guy number wan takes them doon tae the doo shoap in the Saltmarket and sells them. Ye usually get aboot five bob fur a doo and aboot six bob fur a hen,” Joe replied. “There’s big money in fleeing the doos.”

  “If ye know whit ye’re daeing, that is. If the doo-man his a wee saft spot fur a particular doo or hen that’s been taken in by somewan else’s bird, he kin buy it back fae the shoap fur aboot double whit it wis sold fur in the first place,” Skull said, smiling.

  “As easy as that?” Johnboy asked.

  “Aye, bit don’t furget, some doos and hens ur much better than others due tae their breeding, mind ye,” Tony said.

  “If ye’ve goat a right wee stoater ae a doo or hen, ye kin wipe oot the opposition in the area in aboot six months. The Murphy brothers collect only the best wans as well as breed fae them,” Skull added.

  “They’re fucking murder-polis tae beat, bit some hiv taken them tae the cleaners, such as Mad Malky, The Barber, o’er in Possil,” said Tony.

  “Even Flypast hid a good run ae taking some ae their doos and hens aff ae them, bit it didnae last long,” Joe said, eyes no wavering fae watching whit wis gaun oan in the sky above them.

  “Why, whit happened?” Johnboy asked, scanning the rooftops.

  “Flypast hid a wee Silver Storie hen. It didnae look like much and wis a wee scraggly thing, bit it wis fucking deadly. It took in three ae the Murphy’s best doos, three days oan the trot, and a further two oan the fourth day before they’d hid enough.”

  “Aye, the yella basturts wur feart tae put anything oot efter that, especially doos,” Skull scoffed.

  “If Ah mind right, they lost a Red Bar tae start wae, then a Chequered and then a Silver Tipped doo. Flypast’s wee hen took the Silver Tipped in five minutes flat. Everywan in the Toonheid wis pishing themsels when the word goat oot,” Tony said, smiling.

  “Oan the fourth day, the fly basturts put oot two doos at wance, which isnae very sporting. The first wis a lovely big Broon Dun Pouter that hid grouse feathers aw the way up its legs tae its tadger…” Skull wis saying, when Joe took o’er the story.

  “Aye, the Silver Storie’s eyes jist aboot fell oot ae her sockets and she aboot flew straight intae the side ae a tenement building when she saw that big strapping handsome hen-percher ae a thing,” Joe laughed.

  “And then, did they no put oot a big Ash Chequered, white feathered cock. Cock by name and cock by nature,” Tony drawled, as they aw laughed.

  “By this time, everywan hid heard whit wis gaun oan so there wis a fair crowd gathered, including aw the bunnet brigade fae aw the pubs up and doon Parly Road. At wan point the bizzies turned up tae see whit aw the commotion wis as the pavements oan baith sides ae the road wur full ae auld boys up tae see the spectacle ae the Murphy’s getting humped by Flypast,” Skull chipped in excitedly.

  “The first anywan knew that something hid happened wis when the big Ash disappeared. The two doos and the hen hid been chasing each other up and doon every tenement roof between Glebe Street and Castle Street. At wan point the hen hid even landed oan the roof ae the Murphy’s cabin bit the two doos fucked it up when they started fighting o’er her. The Murphys then took the big Dun in and left the big Ash oot tae try and finish aff the business. Twenty five minutes later, the wee Storie wis back sitting oan the big billboards opposite the cabin oan her lonesome, flashing her fanny at the cabin,” Joe said.

  “Ten seconds later, the big Dun wis let oot again and made straight fur her. She then fucked aff, pursued by hairy feather legs, aw o’er the place. The crowd watching whit wis gaun oan…aboot two hunner ae them by this time…began moving up and doon Parly Road, in and oot ae aw the clo
semooths tae the back courts in hot pursuit, placing bets oan who wis gonnae get who. Three times the big Dun managed tae get her oan tae the roof ae the cabin. Another time the wee hen actually landed oan the board itsel, bit it wisnae daft. It knew tae stay straight oan the edge though, away fae the hood. Whoever wis in control in the cabin shot their bolt too soon and yanked the string and the hood shot up, slamming shut, bit no before the wee beauty flew aff like a shot tae the sound ae ‘oohs’ and ‘ahs’ fae aw the local doo men who wur watching o’er the other side ae the billboards. The big Dun wis left wae his cock tucked back intae they feathers ae his, running roond in circles oan the board. It didnae look too happy because when that hood wis let back doon, it wis aff like a priest oan heat. The hen must’ve started tae get fed up wae aw this shite, because efter only five minutes, it flashed its fanny and disappeared, followed by bushy legs in hot pursuit and that wis the last the Murphys saw ae their good doos,” Tony said, as they aw burst oot laughing at the memory.

  “Aye, Flypast isnae that daft though,” Skull continued. “He hot-trotted doon tae Paddy’s, the doo shoap doon in the Saltmarket, the same day and aff they went tae some deserving punter somewhere else.”

  “Whit aboot their hens then?” Johnboy asked.

  “Same thing as the doos. Efter the carry oan wae the doos, they started tae hassle Flypast tae put oot his best doos against their hens, which he did, tae everywan’s amazement,” replied Joe.

  “The first day he put oot a nice Chequered doo against wan ae their Ash hens and she took it straight back tae the cabin within ten minutes ae being let loose. Then he put oot a Red Bar doo and wiped the fucking smile aff their Irish faces…no two ways aboot it,” Skull said, wae a dirty sounding laugh.

  “Three days and three hens later, they gied up,” Tony laughed.

  “Well…gied up putting anything oot,” Skull said tae Johnboy, his voice becoming serious.

  “Aye, the basturts went roond tae Flypast and offered tae buy their hens back before he fucked aff doon tae the Saltmarket oan the Sunday and offered him the price he’d get at the shoap.”

  “Bit Flypast widnae sell so they started tae threaten him, ye’ll be surprised tae hear,” Skull added.