The Barbershop Seven

by Douglas Lindsay

  Minnie said nothing, eyed Veron Veron up for a short while, then turned back to JLM.

  'This is, like, who?' said Bellows.

  'He's supposed to be my dresser,' said JLM, attempting to give Veron a bit of a death stare.

  Minnie remained silent. She too, turned and gave Veron a bit of a death stare. He was meant to be keeping his mouth shut.

  'I'm her lover!' Veron exclaimed violently to the world, delighted with the release of the truth.

  A few jaws dropped. Minnie felt speared by the revelation and said nothing.

  'Cool,' said Bellows. 'And we all had you pegged as totally homosexual.'

  'Minnie?' said JLM, looking at her like a lost dog, desperately hurt. That man-thing which allowed him to have no end of sexual partners, but as soon as he found out about his wife having one, he was devastated.

  'Oh for God's sake, Jesse,' she said. This wasn't going to plan. No point in her husband's credibility being shot to pieces live on TV, when the same thing was happening to her. 'Don't look at me like that. You've slept with every tart you've ever met in your entire life.'

  'I have not!' he protested.

  'Ha!' said Eaglehawk from the back, and with that he threw some more pictures of JLM and an assorted bag of women into the mix.

  Bellows grabbed at some of them and held them up for the camera. There were hundreds of them. Hundreds of photographs and hundreds of women. Big women, small women, short and tall women, Indians and Chinese, brunettes and blondes, wildly attractive to downright bogmonsters, the full panoply of the Scottish melting pot. JLM had had sex with more women than, well, Eleanor Roosevelt.

  Bellows turned and smiled at the camera, then looked back to Veron Veron, fascinated that this man actually slept with women. Veron Veron remained standing, full of indignation, at the back of the room.

  'Jesus,' muttered JLM.

  'You're really porking this guy?' said Bellows to Minnie, while turning some of the photos of JLM to the camera.

  'I love her!' exploded Veron from the back, 'and she loves me!'

  Minnie dropped her head into her hands. Breathe, breathe, breathe.

  'This is fantastic,' said Velure to anyone who was listening.

  Things were getting a little out of hand, but Larry Bellows had decided that maybe it was time to stir things up and let this crowd of loons completely implode. He could step in and pick up the pieces later on; this was going far further than he'd anticipated.

  'Startling revelations,' said Bellows, more fuel to the fire. 'Would you like to take this opportunity to resign from the post of Prime Minister, Jesse?'

  'I bloody well would not!' answered JLM, ignoring the slip. In fact, enjoying the slip. Prime Minister sounded good.

  There were a few looks thrown his way. And again, as he was primed to do for every set of circumstances from now on, James Eaglehawk stepped into the fray, this time waving printed documentary evidence.

  'Here's the proof!' he exclaimed. 'The proof that you, Jesse Longfellow-Moses, had Veronica Walters murdered. It's all here. You're a killer, Jesse. You're going to prison. Prison! You're finished!'

  JLM rose to his feet to meet the challenge of Eaglehawk head on.

  'It's lies!' he shouted. 'All lies! I will not be cowed by these monstrous allegations!'

  'Come with me!' shouted Veron Veron to Minnie. 'Let's leave this place together and go to Mykinos.'

  Minnie's head sank a little lower.

  'What about me?' said a quiet voice, in amongst the tumult.

  Everyone turned and looked at Rebecca Blackadder who, like most of the others, had been silent up until now. Barney Thomson glanced to his side. This had been fun right enough. Wouldn't have missed it for the world, even though it must've been making fair viewing on live TV. But he was a little disconcerted by what Blackadder might be about to say, and he raised an eyebrow at her.

  'Don't,' said Minnie, looking round and shaking her head. Suddenly, having been in control, she was now on the verge of tears. Just as much as it was going belly up for Jesse, it was going down the pan big for Minnie. They were all coming out of the closet.

  The audience looked from Blackadder to Minnie to Blackadder. Blackadder quickly glanced at Barney, a guilty look, squeezed his knee, then leant forward towards Minnie.

  'Minnie,' she said, softly, 'forget the men, forget politics. You don't need any of it. We have each other.'

  'Heeeeeeey!' said Larry Bellows. 'Lesbians. Coooooool! Did you know about this?' he said to JLM.

  JLM was beginning to look a bit lost.

  'No,' he croaked.

  'Minnie?' said Veron Veron, desperately.

  Barney sat back, looking with some awe at Rebecca Blackadder. You think you know some people, and then, poof! Up in smoke. But then, Hell, he had never known her. God, he didn't even know himself.

  'I thought you were sleeping with Michael,' said Barney, rather bluntly.

  A little gasp went round the crowd at this information. Blackadder turned to look at Barney, her eyes boring into him, angry and upset.

  'How could I be?' she said. She swallowed, becoming overcome with the emotion of the moment; the emotion, in fact, of Michael's death. 'He was my brother.'

  A moment's silence, and then another, bigger gasp around the room.

  'You slept with your brother?' ejaculated Larry Bellows.

  'No, of course I didn't sleep with him!' said Blackadder, and this time Minnie rose from her seat and crouched down beside Blackadder, and the two women cuddled in next to one another.

  Veron Veron, for his part, was outraged. He stood aghast, millions of hurtful insults galloping towards his mouth at once, all catching in his throat. Eventually the wee fella decided he just wasn't going to be able to get any words out, and stormed from the room, with a swish, a fizzle and a swoosh.

  The camera followed him out, quickly shot back to Minnie and Blackadder, closed in on them hugging for a second or two, then moved back to the centre, Larry Bellows sitting next to JLM.

  'This is getting a little weird,' said Bellows.

  'You think?' said JLM, voice lost, eyes wide and unsure whether to stare at his wife with another woman, or at all the incriminating evidence that Eaglehawk had just thrown into the public domain. He glanced up at Eaglehawk and his Nemesis smiled cruelly back at him.

  'How could you think that, Barney?' said Blackadder, regaining her composure, as she pulled away from Minnie. Thinking that she shouldn't have come, and that now would be a good time to leave.

  'I'm sorry,' said Barney. 'I was misinformed,' he added, rather weakly.

  Blackadder held his gaze, the hurt evident in her eyes. But then, who was she to talk? She'd led Barney along, and here she was with the person she really loved.

  'It's her he was really sleeping with,' said Blackadder, bitterness in her voice, indicating Farrow with a nod of the head.

  Farrow, who'd been one of the quiet ones, suddenly blurted out an exasperated cry at her name getting brought into proceedings. The happy sweet collective of JLM was spectacularly imploding.

  'Well, why the Hell shouldn't I sleep with him?' she cried. 'I was his wife!'

  Another gasp rippled around the room. There was a sharp clap as Bing Velure smacked his hands together with glee.

  'Who are we talking about?' said Bellows.

  'The priest,' said Barney, shrugging.

  'The priest?' said Bellows. 'Isn't that a thing?'

  'He never wanted to be a priest,' said Farrow, standing to fight her corner. 'It was a nonsense. We married in secret last year. He was waiting until his mother died, and then he was going to leave the church. He loved me.'

  'Pah!' said the Reverend Blake, who up until now, etc etc.

  Everyone turned to look at Blake. Farrow bit her bottom lip, close to tears.

  (Generally here, the women were getting tearful and emotional, while the guys were open-mouthed or amused. Except Veron Veron of course, who was already on his way to Milan.)

  'You're th
e new priest?' said Bellows, trying to keep up.

  'I bloody well am not,' said the Rev Blake. 'I'm Church of Scotland, and if Michael loved this harlot so much, maybe she'd like to explain why he was banging me.'

  A gasp went around the room. Again.

  (As channel surfers flicked by, over 95% of them were stopping to watch, and the viewing figures were rising exponentially. The thing was getting completely out of hand, the problem being that it was a fight with no referee. It was in no one's interest to step in and bring it to a halt. It was magnificent, unabashed, outrageous television at its most puerile and far-fetched, and only JLM might have had the authority to bring proceedings to a close; but he had ceded that authority under the weight of Eaglehawk's testimony.)

  'He was not!' exclaimed Farrow.

  'Yeah, he was,' said Blackadder, softly, barely interested. Minnie lifted her head back to look up at her, a look that said she should be quiet and forget everyone else.

  Farrow simmered just below the boil.

  'Utter bullshit!' she exclaimed, despite trying to tell herself to be more erudite.

  'He was,' said Blackadder, still quiet but with greater insistence. 'I only found out about it two days ago.'

  Farrow strangled a roar, then slumped back down into her seat, her heart frozen. Couldn't look at Blake, who was watching Farrow, spit and venom in her eyes.

  And suddenly the room was quiet, so abruptly that Larry Bellows was almost caught off guard. The revelations of the past few minutes had been gathering pace, achieving their own momentum so that one had led on to another, as the thing had spiralled and spiralled. But now, in an instant it had blown itself out, as everyone had said what needed to be said, and too many people had plunged into a sulk.

  'Right, folks,' said Bellows quickly, 'I think it might be time for a commercial break. We'll be right back after these messages.'

  And he sat back, let out a long sigh, and smiled hugely. This was fabulous. He was Adam Vinatieri and this was the Superbowl.

  Soap Opera 3

  Velure drew his hand across his throat. Bellows looked nonplussed. Someone on the set hurriedly scrawled 'BBC no adverts!!!' on a board and held it up. Bellows was about to start blurting out some stuff about the BBC being as commercial as any other organisation, but realised that it would be classical pissing in the wind so, ever the seasoned professional, he quickly schmoozed his way back into character.

  'Welcome back to the second part of Larry Bellows Tonight! folks,' he said confidently, settling back into the old routine. 'Just in case anyone's missed anything so far,' and he started reading from another board which had been raised, written by Mandy, who'd been paying far more attention than had Bellows, 'tonight we've learned that the First Minister is an adulterer and a murderer, his wife's an adulteress and a lesbian, his dresser's not gay but is banging his wife, his psychiatrist is a lesbian and the brother of the priest who admitted multiple murder, but the priest was married to the First Minister's doctor and was also having an affair with the vicar.'

  He'd read it all out in breathless fashion, then he turned and looked around his devastated audience, big cheesy grin on his chops.

  'Wow, folks, what a ride! This is great. Anyone else got anything they'd like to contribute?'

  Winona Wanderlip didn't have any amazing revelations, or at least none that she thought likely to be revealed that evening, but she thought it might be time to step forward and become the rudder that the Scottish Executive, the people of Scotland, and indeed this docu-drama were crying out for. This had been a humiliating farce for the whole country. At least some good would come out of it; Jesse Longfellow-Moses would be gone.

  She was about to stand up and take the floor, when James Eaglehawk moved smoothly in to fill the void. Well, she thought, as she relaxed back into her seat, maybe it won't be too much of a bad thing. When one door closes...

  'Yeah,' said Eaglehawk, 'I think it's about time that the full truth be told about the man who has led Scotland for the past nearly three years.'

  And as he stepped forward, he was clutching folders and folders in his arms, the information with which Conrad Vogts had furnished him. He had already let loose an overture of damnation with the photographs of JLM's sexual abandon, now it was time to unleash the full nuclear strike force of accusation.

  'What've you got there, Bud?' asked Larry Bellows, who could tell that this wasn't going to be as interesting as some of the other stuff that had gone before.

  'You name it!' said Eaglehawk with triumph. 'Tax fraud, sex, pay-offs, strong arm tactics, manipulation, blackmail, collusion, murder! You're finished, Jesse. Finished!'

  'Yeah, Bud,' said Bellows, reacting dismissively to Eaglehawk's claims, 'but you already cleaned him out about ten minutes ago.'

  'No he didn't,' blurted out JLM, but even he knew he was clinging on by his armpit hair at this point.

  'Tell us something new,' said Bellows. 'Bringing out more stuff on this guy is like putting a bullet in someone's face after you've cut their head off.'

  'Right!' said Eaglehawk, 'I will tell you something new. I'll tell you that I, James T Eaglehawk, put myself forward as the new leader of Scotland, the man to take this magnificent country forward into a new relationship with Europe, where we can be a player, a broker, we can be the engine room and the bridge at the heart of the Starship Enterprise that is the European Union. This nation of ours...'

  'Yeah, yeah, Bud,' said Bellows, stopping him in his tracks, which pleased more than a few people in attendance, 'we're looking for something a bit more interesting than that. You got anything about sex?'

  'No!' said Eaglehawk. 'It's about time we started talking about serious politics.'

  'What were you doing last night, then?' said a wee voice behind him.

  Eaglehawk turned quickly. Bellows' ears perked up. Winona Wanderlip stood up from the midst of the small crowd and walked forward. She carried in her hand an A4 brown envelope. Slowly, deliberately, with immense cool, so she imagined, she began producing photographs of Eaglehawk in the buff, cavorting luxuriously with the girls Willing & Able, handing the pictures around the crowd, allowing the camera a view of each photo before passing it on.

  'Vogts!' said Eaglehawk, spitting out the name.

  'Hung by your own scrotum!' said Wanderlip.

  'Ha!' said JLM, as some sort of last hurrah. 'I knew it. I've got a bigger knob than you, Eaglehawk.'

  That's men for you. Size, size, size.

  'So who are, like, you?' said Bellows, pointing at Wanderlip.

  'I'm Wanderlip,' she said. 'Winona Wanderlip. And now that Longfellow-Moses has been uncovered as the scandalous crook we've all known him to be, I put myself forward as the only genuine and honest candidate here today, the candidate with the political nous and presence to be the leader of Scotland.'

  Bellows nodded.

  'Yeah, and you're the one with the great nipples, right?' he said. 'Are you going to show 'em to us this evening?'

  'No, I'm not!' she said, remembering to keep calm now that she was practically leader of the country. 'And I'll tell you something else. This charade is over. I'm leaving now, and anyone who wants to play a serious part in the future of Scottish government can come with me.'

  She looked around the room, the question only really aimed at Grey, MacPherson and Robertson. The three of them nodded and began to rise from their seats.

  'This has been farcical,' she continued. 'A disgrace, an absolute disgrace, and it's over. It's time for decency and honesty to become the bywords of the Scottish Executive.'

  Larry Bellows sat back, studying Wanderlip's breasts for any sign of activity, and not sure exactly how to prevent the walkout, or whether to be pleased about it. It would still leave most of the main players in the emotional drama, and get rid of some of the political bores.

  He needn't have worried, however.

  'What do you know about honesty?' said a surprising voice from the sidelines. The one member of the crowd who had stood through
out, arms folded across his chest, jaw set in a particularly hard way so as to impress watching Hollywood überbabes. A man for whom words were few, but well chosen.

  Everyone turned.

  'What d'you mean?' said Wanderlip, sharply. No idea what was coming. Genuinely no idea.

  'Who's the '70s porno star?' said Bellows, looking around, and smiling at the camera, still demanding that the show was about him and not about all these fruitcakes.

  'Don't!' said Parker Weirdlove suddenly, sitting across the room from The Amazing Mr X. X looked at Weirdlove; Wanderlip looked at Weirdlove; Weirdlove couldn't look her in the eye, and he stared belligerently at X telling him to keep his mouth shut.

  Now Winona Wanderlip knew what was coming, and the fear crossed her face. Her heart suddenly felt like it would burst through her chest.

  'Go on, '70s porno guy,' said Larry Bellows. 'Tell it how it is!'

  'X!' said Weirdlove. 'Leave it!'

  The Amazing Mr X looked at Weirdlove one last time, then turned to face Larry Bellows. He'd had enough of the lies and the deceit. And of all the lies which had eaten away at him, of all the falsehoods and misrepresentations and economical truths that plagued government and of which he was part, the one lie that he could no longer face, was that he fancied women. All those thoughts, all that time spent fantasising about them, it had been to hide the undeniable truth. The Amazing Mr X had been taking it up the butt from Parker Weirdlove. And he hated Weirdlove for making him live in denial.

  'She's no better than the rest of them,' he said. 'Ask her about university.'

  Bellows stared at Wanderlip, who was looking a bit flushed around the chops.

  'Well, Nipplebabe,' he said, 'what about university?'

  Wanderlip didn't look at him; she was too busy boring terrified holes into Parker Weirdlove. Weirdlove swallowed, not at all happy with the revelations that were about to be released to the world. He just hoped nobody was watching.

  'Murder!' barked The Amazing Mr X. 'Murder!' he repeated, in case anyone had missed it.

  If Weirdlove had had a gun, he would've shot The Amazing Mr X where he stood. But then, murdering someone live on television to cover up a murder you committed several years previously lacks a certain purpose.