by Laura Hird
Drysdale could only look himself up and down. He let out an anguished, primal scream from the depths of his sickened soul: – YA BASTARD! YA FUCKEN BASTARD!! as he looked up to see the back of the white micra recede up the street.
The police promotional applicant was unawares however, that there were two white nissan micras, and that the offending one had got through the lights at the top of the road. However, the second one, containing the innocent Allister Farmer, had stopped at red. Farmer had been so full of anger at the careless driving in the car ahead, that he hadn’t noticed what had happened to the unfortunate pedestrian on St Leonard’s Street.
On noticing that the lights had changed to red and that the micra had halted, Drysdale embarked on a lung-bursting run towards the stationary car. On catching up to it, he tapped the side window. Allister Farmer rolled it down, only to be met with a choking throaty roar of: – YOU FUCKIN BASTARD! and a clenched fist, which crashed into him, bursting his nose.
Drysdale was off. He had extracted his revenge, now he had to save the situation. He still had ten minutes left. He ran into a pub and attempted to clean himself up as best he could. He looked at his image in the mirror. He was a mess, an absolute fucking mess. All he could do was to try and explain to Cowan, and hope that the chairman of the promotion board would accept his story and turn a blind eye to his appearance.
Allister Farmer stemmed the blood with a hanky. The police inspector was shaken. He had investigated many such arbitrary assaults, but had never ever conceived of himself as the victim of one, particularly in broad daylight, on a busy road, outside a main police station. Farmer had been too stunned to see where the culprit had escaped to. He shakily started up his car, passed through the lights and parked outside the Area office.
– Allister! What happened? Are you okay? a concerned Tom Cowan asked, as a first aider treated Farmer’s nosebleed. A couple of investigating officers were straight outside, looking for the culprit.
– God Tom, I was assaulted, in my own car, just outside the bloody station, by some fucking community care jakey who tapped on my window … anyway … we’ve got our interviews. The show must go on.
– What did the guy look like?
– Later Tom, later. Let’s not keep the interviewees waiting.
Cowan nodded affirmatively, ushering Farmer and Des Thorpe from personnel into the interview room. They had another quick look at the forms they had already studied in detail. In terms of experience, background and lodge membership, they agreed that Trevor Drysdale was an excellent candidate for one of the posts. – I know Drysdale, Cowan said, brushing a distasteful white thread off his jacket sleeve. – A craft stalwart and a damn fine polisman.
They sent for Drysdale who trooped timidly in. Cowan’s jaw fell, but not as far as Farmer’s.
On noting who was on the interview panel, Drysdale just covered his eyes and burst into tears. Another decade at the sub-station loomed.
23
Gezra, the Appropriate Behaviour Compliance Elder, found it hard to fathom today’s youngsters. He had, perhaps, been around too long, he considered again, but what satisfaction they got from going to backward places like Earth in their beat-up space crafts and kidnapping hapless aliens and sticking anal probes into them was beyond his understanding. It was just one of these things that youths did, he supposed. Once it got into the culture and telepathic media got a hold of it, it spread like a bush fire. These kids were harmless really, but the animals on Earth had rights too, something it was difficult for youngsters nowadays to grasp.
His people had learned all about Earth culture from a native of the planet called Mikey Devlin, whom they had kidnapped for cultural study five years ago. He opted to stay with them rather than undergo memory wipe, provided they could supply him with young Earth women, the dangerous and highly addictive substance called snout, and the odd take-away. Several top Hollywood actresses and international models, Sun page three girls and females who frequented Buster Browns niteclub in Edinburgh had claimed that aliens had come for them in the night, but nobody made the connection or took the complaints seriously. They all said that one of the creatures looked human. Well that was Devlin, thought the Appropriate Behavioural Compliance Officer: a fanny merchant of the first order.
Mikey had been okay when he stuck to the official tours. He was sound, a plausible cunt, and they liked having him around. But, Gezra reflected, the Earthman had fallen in with a crowd of rebellious youngsters and they took him on trips back home. They weren’t bad really, but they were silly. Once they entered the procreative years, this behaviour would cease. Of course, by then, there would be a new team to worry about. But for now, the Earthman was with them. Gezra was concerned that Mikey might try to tempt them to make contact with his old friends on Earth. This was strictly forbidden without a memory wipe. So it had to be Earth. Tazak and Mikey would need to replenish snout supplies. He would go there by technology, to avoid being detected, rather than by The Will. He set his controls.
24
Jimmy and Semo were unable to score anything from Alec other than some Temazapam capsules and a little bit of hash. They were pretty disappointed as they drove back out from the city.
25
And all the people who had converged on the fields near the old mine workings, people for as far as could be seen, were listening to the music, the sweet music which filled the air, and feeling the exhilarated rushes as the sky darkened by the awesome sight of the craft coming down to earth. It hovered some seventy feet above them.
The ship, in its magnificent splendour, did not move. It just stayed put. This was it, this was the moment the travellers had been waiting for.
26
Jimmy and Semo first noticed delays at the Newcraighall Roundabout. Then the police were turning everyone back. – But we live ower thair, Semo pleaded, lost to the fact that they were in a stolen car. The cop had other things on his mind. He pointed over to the huge disc that hung in the sky over the other side of the bypass.
– Thir’s a fuckin flying saucer oan toap ay ma hoose, Semo turned to Jimmy.
27
At the hastily convened conference in Washington, the world’s leaders were finding it difficult to understand the alien spokespersons. They had enlisted some of the CCS top boys, who had the confidence of the aliens, to help with the translation.
– We could fuckin run youse like that, Tazak snapped his fingers. – Aw yir fuckin weapons, thir fuckin nowt against us, eh.
The world leaders looked far more concerned than the impassive, square-jawed security men from the federal forces, who surrounded them.
– Fuckin shitein cunts, another alien sneered, picking up on the psychic vibe of fear.
– I don’t see that this … the British Prime Minister started.
– You shut yir fuckin mooth ya specky cunt! Tazak snapped. – Nae cunt’s fuckin talkin tae you! Right! Fuckin wide-o!
The PM looked nervously at his feet. A Special Air Services Officer who flanked him, tensed up.
– What ah wis fuckin sayin before this cunt started wis, Tazak looked at the PM who was silent, – we could fuckin annihilate youse in a swedge. Nae fuckin problem. We’ve goat the fuckin technology, eh. And the fuckin willpower. So the wey we see is, youse cunts dae as yis ur fuckin well telt and that’s it. Endy fuckin story.
Ally from the CCS stood up. For all that they spoke the same language, the alien’s arrogance still jarred. If only he could get that cunt with his force-field down. – No in a square go yis couldnae.
– Eh? What’s this cunt sayin? one alien asked Tazak.
The American President put his hand on Ally’s shoulders to force him to sit down. – Sit on your ass godamn you, they got us over a barrel!
Ally’s head crashed into the leader of the western world’s nose. The President fell back into his chair. A security man from the FBI moved forward but the alien raised his hand and the President ushered him to stop.
– Nae cunt fuckin pills me up
, Ally said.
– Boy’s right enough, Tazak considered. – Ah’m hearin a loat ay talk fae youse cunts aboot this n that, but these boys are the only ones that huv stuck up fir thumselves. He looked at Ally, – Yir no tryin tae tell me thit youse cunts ur feart ay they cunts, his large almond eyes sweeping over the world’s leaders.
– That’ll be fuckin right, Ally said, looking challengingly at the late middle-aged posse of suits who led the world.
– Bit these cunts are the top boys, they tell every cunt what tae dae but, Tazak said.
The Chancellor of the German Federal Republic cut in, – But ziss is a democracy. Ze process of choosink leaders is not based on physical fighting abilities but on ze vill of all ze people.
– Is it fuck, Ally said, quickly putting the cunt right, – If that’s right, he said, pointing at the British Prime Minister, – how is it that nae cunt in Scotland voted for these bastards and we git thaim rulin us? Answer ays that! If ye fuckin well kin!
– Right enough, said Bri. Then he turned to the German Chancellor, – You keep yir fuckin nose oot ay things ye ken nowt aboot, right?
There followed a series of loud arguments. At one stage, it looked as if it was going to go off between the top boys of the Capital City Service and the security forces of the FBI.
– Fuckin shut it! Tazak, the alien top boy shouted, pointing at the world’s leaders. – Listen, ah cannae handle they radge cunts nippin ma heid. Fae now oan, he nodded over to the casuals, – youse cunts are in charge here. The alien leader threw a transmitter over to Ally. The startled football thug jumped back, letting the device drop on the floor. – It’s only a fuckin mobby ya radge! Pick it up!
Ally tentatively picked up the transmitter.
– Wi that yis kin bell us at any time, day or night. See if these cunts, he swept his hand contemptuously round at the world’s leaders, – if they fuckin well gie yis any grief, just bell us and we’ll sort the cunts right oot. Fuckin surein wi will. Sort the cunts oot fir good, eh.
– Sound, Ally smiled. – Listen though … youse cunts say thit yis kin destroy anything on Earth fae space wi yir weapons?
– Aye … yis ur welcome tae come aboard n huv a shot, eh.
28
From the alien ship, Mikey Devlin looked down on the thousands of ravers making their excited pilgrimage below. He willed the monitor to pan out, across the green and brown hills of the Pentlands, and over the cityscape.
Something had twinged in a corner of Mikey’s psyche. He retraced, focusing on the by-pass, almost directly underneath them. He could see the garage. Closing up, Mikey was elated to spy his brother, Alan, operating the car wash.
Alan wanted to get rid of the driver, a PC Drysdale, as soon as possible. He had a young woman called Abigail Ford in a state of semi-undress in the back shop. Drysdale seemed away with it though. Probably this space thing had freaked him. Loads of them were like that. He had to concede that it was pretty mind-blowing. Mind you, with all this millennium shite, it was about time some cunts from outer space finally got round to checking us out. Then, at the corner of his eye, Alan saw something move in the front shop. He was concerned that Abby was getting ready to go. It wasn’t her though, it was those wee wide cunts Jimmy Mulgrew and Semo!
– These cunts are robbin us! He shouted at Drysdale, who wouldn’t react. Alan ran towards the shop, and Semo got out just in time, but he cornered Jimmy Mulgrew. The younger man tried to swing at him, but he was overpowered by the senior hoolie, who dragged him outside and proceeded to boot him all over the forecourt. Semo jumped on Devlin’s back, but he was thrown off, and had to frantically scramble to his feet and swiftly retreat in order to escape a similar punishment to his friend.
Alan raked the battered young teamster’s pockets and found only some change and a handful of jellies, which he confiscated. Drysdale drove out without making an arrest.
From his vessel, Mikey watched approvingly as his brother fucked the young girl in the back shop, as Jimmy Mulgrew stood up and staggered along the street. He waited until his brother had finished and the girl has departed, before freezing local time and carrying him onto the craft.
Alan was delighted to see his brother again. – Mikey! Ah dinnae belief it! You’re behind aw this shite! Ah knew it! Ah’m no jokin man, somethin telt ays tae come tae this fuckin place! That was how ah couldnae leave here! It wis you man! He studied his older brother. – Fuck sake man, ye look younger thin me!
– Clean livin, Mikey smiled, – No like you ya cunt! It was useless to try to explain the concept of controlling cellular elasticity and form through the use of The Will.
– No goat any blaw, huv ye? Mikey asked.
– Naw, ah took some jellies oaf this wee cunt.
– What are they? Mikey asked with interest. As Alan explained, Mikey’s eyes grew wider with interest. He took some from Alan. – Jist ma fuckin ticket these, eh.
29
The day after the conference in Washington had effectively installed the Casual Administration as the new unitary Earth Government, there followed a series of disasters unprecedented in British sporting history. The board of directors of Heart of Midlothian FC were devastated to find that the stadium, which boasted three brand new stands had been completely vaporised by a beam from outer space. In Glasgow, Ibrox, so long Scotland’s showcase arena, immediately suffered a similar fate. The next horror was the destruction of Wembley Stadium and its famous twin towers. Then, sequentially, all the football grounds in the country with the exception of Easter Road in Edinburgh, were obliterated. Ally and his mates made their centre for Earth Government at the stadium, using the funds of various Earth nation states to completely refurbish the ground and embark on a massively expensive team-building programme.
On the terraces, there were a few die-hards who whinged on about ‘these fuckin casual cunts’ in charge of the club, but generally the new regime was welcomed. The outgoing board had been even less happy than the International Heads of State in standing down in favour of the Top Boys, but had little option in face of the power the casual hoolies now wielded.
– Cool gig this, eh, Tazak said, as Mikey watched on the monitor. They still had made no contact with the dancing crowds below the craft. However, the time was nearly right. – Aye, and it hus tae be said that they’ve done a better joab for the club than the cunts they hud in charge before. It’s aw doon tae resources though, the eighties Top Boy sagely conceded.
Tazak looked at his friend. – Wi ready tae hit it?
30
Cheers went up from the dancing hordes below as a thrashing telepathic bass-line rocked the planet and the crowd jumped and swayed to a blinding series of lasers which shot out from the craft. An Earth voice, a Scottish voice, asked: ‘are we havin a fuckin good one?’ and the crowd screamed in unison: ‘yes!’ They certainly were, the only dissenting voices coming from the Fubar crew who were signalling for more. – Lenny Dee! some cunt shouted.
An opening appeared in the craft and a small balcony extended from it. An Earthman walked out onto it. A huge cheer was heard as his image was beamed for miles around. – We’ve goat the best fuckin sound system in the universe here! Mikey roared.
Shelley looked up from the crowd. This man was even more fantastic than Liam from Oasis … he was the man of her dreams.
At that point the man said: – And now gies a top planet Earth welcome tae this big, skinny, spammy cunt whae’s made it aw possible! Fae acroas the cosmos, planet Cyrastor, massive respect for our fuckin main man, Tazaaaak!
Tazak joined Mikey on the balcony. He felt humbled by the reception the Earth crowd gave. No way was the big alien cunt about to lose the floor with the stakes so high, and punters jumping about for as far as his large brown eyes could see. Vibing like fuck, he unleashed a psychic virus of beautiful and powerful sound unequalled anywhere in the universe.
The Earth crowd had known nothing like it. Even those who had been privileged to attend some of the biggest and most happenin
g events since 1988’s summer of love, had to concede that this one was a bit special. Even club snobs agreed that the almost non-existent toilet and catering facilities failed to put a downer on the awesome nature of this event.
When he was exhausted, Tazak brought it down, and staggered from the balcony, back into the craft, to a tumultuous reception. – Cheers … that’s me fucked … he telepathically flashed to the hordes below.
Inside the craft, Mikey was devastated. This was to be his big moment, but there was no way he could match that. The Earth man went out and did his best, using the full range of the psychic powers he’d developed, even extending himself past his breaking point, but very quickly into his set some groups were already chanting for the return of the big alien. He cut his performance short and returned to the interior of the craft, totally humiliated.
– Good one, Mikey conceded to his show-stealing friend, as he entered the amphitheatre which was the craft’s central Will propulsion temple.
– It wis the fuckin best! Ah fuckin blew these Earth cunts away! Tell ays that wisnae something else! Tazak roared triumphantly.
– Aye, right, Mikey moped.
Tazak turned to his friend. – Listen mate, you goat any snout oan ye? Ah’m gantin oan a fag, eh.
– Naw, Mikey said, reaching in his pocket and producing one of the jellies he’d taken from Jimmy. – Take one ay these.
– What are they? Tazak asked, examining the egg-shaped capsules.
– Thir jist pills. They take away the snout cravin until wi kin go doon and git sorted, eh, Mikey shrugged. His face twisted into a smile, when, from the corner of his eye, he saw the alien neck the capsule.
31
Tazak was still recovering from the gig when Ally, Denny and Bri came through a door into the craft’s central Will propulsion chamber. There was another human with the casual mob. Tazak, who had grown used to differentiating members of the species, thought he looked like Mikey. The Cyrastorian glanced over at his human colleague. – What the fuck are these cunts daein here? They’ve no goat authorisation.