by Ian Todd
“Bit, whit aboot ma customers, ma school weans at lunch time…whit will they eat?”
“It certainly wullnae be your stuff,” The WPC snarled threateningly, shuddering, as she looked at the semi-curled deid moose, wae its exposed, wee yellow incisors, lying oan tap ae the coonter wae whit looked like Vaseline covering its heid, neck and front claws.
“Right, here ye go, Mr Thompson. Masel or wan ae ma team will be back in a few days, so we will. This is whit is required fae you tae get done in the meantime, including getting shot ae that pipe up there. Failure tae comply will mean you’ll lose yer trader’s licence fur good and could lead tae criminal prosecution. Have Ah made masel clear?” he said, haunin o’er a list ae requirements, retaining a copy fur himsel.
“Er, right.”
“Don’t ‘er, right’ me, Mr Thompson. If this chip shoap opens before Ah gie ye the all-clear, then that’s you finished in the catering business, so it is,” he warned him, as the WPC followed him oot in tae the street.
“Christ, Ah’ve stoapped oan the way hame and bought a fish supper oot ae here, so Ah hiv,“ she scowled, as he laughed, crossing Springburn Road, minding tae keep his eyes looking oot fur buses who wur notorious fur trying tae run pedestrians o’er in that part ae the city.
“Okay, whit wis that wee show in aid ae?” she turned and asked him, efter they’d goat back in tae the squad car.
“The point Ah wis making wis that Ah wanted tae show ye how effective we ur. Efter another visit and a few hours gaun o’er whit’s expected, he’ll be converted fur life…or he’ll be oot ae business fur life.”
“Oh, right,” she said, impressed.
“That’s aw very well, bit whit it disnae dae is get tae the root cause ae the widespread poisoning ae people by unscrupulous marketers, black butchers, unscrupulously bypassing the tax man and every other safeguard set up tae protect the consumer…you, me and oor families.”
“This sounds like another wan ae yer dramatic conversations coming ma way,” she muttered.
“Dae you believe he wid’ve checked that friar ae his before switching it oan?”
“Naw.”
“Then, why dae ye hiv a problem wae whit Ah’m saying?”
“Ah don’t. Ah’m jist no sure why Ah’m here.”
“Cooncillor Barbara Allan is…his been…oan the warpath wae ma department noo fur two years, demanding we get shot ae the black meat dealers in the north ae the city. She’s obviously come tae the conclusion that the polis urnae gonnae dae anything aboot it, so her new tactic wis tae employ me tae see if Ah kin dae whit youse people obviously cannae,” he telt her, no being surprised at her shrill laughter.
“Ye still hivnae telt me whit ye expect fae me?”
“We’ve nearly been successful a few times…aye, wae bigger fish, than Mr Ratty across the road.”
“Like who?”
“Brisket Burns, Rump Adams and a wee bit doon the ladder, Ribeye Ross.”
“Every wan ae them Black Pat McVeigh’s boys,” she acknowledged.
“That’s right.”
“So, whit happened then?”
“Well, Brisket and Rump jist laughed at me and wan ae ma team when we confronted them. And Ribeye? That basturt punched me oan the side ae ma heid before strolling aff. Bloody sore, so it wis.”
“Ye don’t seriously believe that Duggie Dougan is actually daeing this oot the goodness ae his heart, dae ye?” she asked, looking at him bitterly.
“Inspector Dougan’s daughter is pregnant by the cooncillor’s boy, so she is.”
“So?”
“She’s putting the squeeze oan him. Ah heard that she’s let it be known that if he disnae help his daughter’s prospective new mother-in-law take doon Black Pat McVeigh, then they kin furget aboot the wedding.”
Silence.
“Ur ye awright?” he asked her, concern in his voice, as she started the engine and drove up tae the junction.
“Where tae noo?” she asked.
“Lets heid across tae Possil,” he replied, deciding tae keep his trap shut, no sure if it wis whit he’d telt her aboot the inspector and cooncillor Allan becoming family that hid brought the defensive barriers up.
Collette wis seething inside. She wanted tae pull o’er and sling Del Shannon’s arse oot oan tae the pavement. She’d never been intae Elvis Presley. It wis her pal, Lesley, and that man ae hers, Teddy Bare, who wur always raving oan aboot him. She thought he’d died back in the fifties. Despite trying tae get a meeting wae him, Duggie Dougan hid completely slung her a deafy. She knew fine well that Skanky Smith wis keeping her oot ae his road, despite requests tae speak tae him. She accepted that he wis busy, bit thought he’d maybe get roond tae calling her alang tae his office fur a wee chat, a wee welcome back, something, anything. She’d jist fallen asleep when she’d been woken up by the quiet tapping oan her door the night before. When she’d goat up and opened it, she’d been surprised tae see him.
“It’s me,” he’d said, marching past her.
“Whit time is it?” she’d asked, looking at the clock beside her bed.
“Late…Ah hivnae much time,” he’d said, unbuckling his belt.
When she’d returned tae bed, she’d tried tae speak tae him, bit aw he’d been interested in wis hivving sex wae her. There’d been nae “How ur ye daeing?” or “Sorry, bit Ah’ve been busy.” Efter five minutes, he’d lit up a fag.
“Where’s ma da’s lighter Ah gied ye?” she’d asked him.
“Ach, Ah left it in ma other trooser pocket,” he’d replied, suddenly sitting up and putting his underpants oan.
“Wh…where ur ye gaun?” she’d asked, surprised.
“Ah’m sorry, hen, bit Ah’m oan a call, so Ah am. Skanky’s doon in the car waiting oan me.”
“Whit?”
“Aye, Ah jist wanted tae tell ye that Ah’ve been busy and that we’ll catch up the morra…at work,” he’d added, staunin up as he buttoned up his jaicket.
“Bit, Ah don’t understaun…”
“There’s a meeting…an important wan. Aw the sergeants will be there, including you. There’s a task that ye’ve been assigned tae. It’s aw pretty hush-hush. Ye’ll be telt mair the morra. Look, Ah need tae go,” he’d said, before disappearing oot ae the bedroom, stepping oan Mr Hopkins, her cat, oan route, who’d let oot a painful meow a second before she heard her landing door slam.
It hid aw happened that fast, that she hidnae hid time tae respond. Compared tae Bobby Mack, the murder squad chief inspector, Duggie Dougan wis the ultimate basturt. She’d felt totally used. She’d jist lain there, her heid in turmoil, as he grunted away, before rolling aff ae her and lighting up a fag efter he’d climaxed. By the time she’d woken up in the morning, hid her bath and heided oot the door, she’d made up her mind. She’d resign or put in fur a transfer, bit no tae bloody Yoker. When she’d entered the office in the polis station and been forced tae sit there, listening tae Elvis Presley trying tae apologise fur his presence, she’d realised they wur taking the piss. Well, she’d jist decided she wisnae prepared tae put up wae it any mair. That’s why she’d walked. When she’d arrived fur her shift earlier, the case allocations clerk hid handed her o’er her shift details. Fur the next two weeks she wis tae act as an arresting liaison officer wae a sani man who thought he wis Elvis. Her humiliation knew nae bounds. She’d been too stunned tae staun her ground and it wis only when she wis staunin ootside in front ae the Cortina, she realised that she wis being shafted…sent tae Coventry.
“Ur ye okay, Collette?” Elvis, The Sani Man asked.
“Naw, Ah’m bloody well no,” she snarled at him, fighting tae haud her tears back, before she embarrassed hersel in front ae him again.
Chapter Twenty Three
Anywan wandering alang the dark corridors in the bowels ae The Corporation oan that first Tuesday ae the month widnae hiv been concerned by the turn-oot ae the wee group ae wummin fur the feature showing ae the Glesga Wummin’s Film Club. The original 1958 copy ae Ja
mes L Wolcott’s ‘Wild Wummin Ae Wongo’ poster that hung oan the wall in the corridor, opposite the opening tae The Tear Drap Café, said it aw, as it declared, in colourful, graphic detail how the ‘Wild Wummin Ae Wongo’ wur prehistoric beauties who lived by the code ae the jungle. It hid been claimed in some quarters that the portrayal ae wummin in the film hid been the turning point fur a lot ae wummin tae wake themsels up, dust themsels doon, and tae get oot there and get tore right in by becoming involved in the Wummin’s Lib movement in America. Who ever heard ae prehistoric wummin running aboot scantily clad, their eyebrows plucked and faces plastered in make-up? Wummin hated it by the millions and it became a huge box office hit, as the fairer sex took their screaming polka-dot dressed, bobby-socks-clad daughters tae see it in droves, tae ensure their conversion wis complete. It hid also been claimed that President Dwight D Eisenhower himsel hid considered banning it, due tae the violent outrage that wummin and young lassies wur exhibiting towards men, efter being exposed tae it. This hid become particularly pertinent efter he found himself struck oan the foreheid by a breid roll missile, the morning efter his daughter and her pal hid gone tae see it in wan ae the Washington picture hooses.
“How ur we daeing then, Marjory, hen?” Councillor Barbara Allen, aka The Purple Dove, asked across the heids ae the chattering wummin, who wur aw staunin or sitting aboot in wee groups, some sipping herbal tea, puffing away at their tipped fags, liquorice Rizla roll-ups and wee cheroot cigars.
“Hing oan…right, ready tae roll, Purple Dove,” Marjory replied, gieing her the thumbs up, efter getting a signal fae the far end ae the corridor that The Chin, The Corporation’s sergeant at arms, or any ae his wee minions wurnae scurrying aboot, oan the go.
“Welcome, sisters. Welcome tae the monthly meeting ae the Sexual Harassment Ae Working Wummin’s Committee, or, as we ur affectionately known by oor adversaries and the recipients ae oor terrifying and swift justice, The Showgirls,” Barbara Allan, the chairwummin announced, as everywan stoapped whit they wur daeing and laughed, automatically forming a circle while they grabbed themsels a chair. “Gaun switch that electric hot water geezer aff behind ye, will ye, Carol?” The Purple Dove asked her.
“Anywan fur a refill before Ah dae?” Carol asked, as wee Heather Foy fae Queenslie Industrial Engineering, who’d jist arrived, dashed forward wae her cup wae a sprinkling ae rose petal tea leaves in her haun.
“Before we get doon tae enjoy the maist hated film ever produced by a man, it always gies me great joy…and sadness, tae welcome everywan gathered here oan the first Tuesday ae the month in this, The Tear Drap Café, doon in the gunnelled bastion ae maledom, so it dis. Sadness, because ae whit this room represented back in the days gone by, and still dis, even tae this day, as we constantly reflect oan how it could’ve been if it wisnae fur aw they selfish male managers, who’ve refused tae acknowledge the contribution us wummin hiv made tae this great city and tae their selfish needs in particular. How sad wid it be if oor descendant sisters, Mary Barbour, Jessie Stevens, Jeannie Smullen, Agnes Dolan and Helen Crawfurd, tae name bit a few, wur tae come back the day, efter aw this time, and see how far we hivnae moved oan, despite their valiant efforts. However, if that sadness still runs true the day, we shouldnae furget the joy ae seeing people, wummin, like the wans sitting roond this wee circle, who ur gieing themsels up tae fight fire wae fire in this, the Sistine Chapel ae oor struggle. Let’s aw bow oor heids and pray. Dear Mother, bless us wae yer wisdom and strength tae keep gaun, tae lay intae the wasters and fornicators that keep aw us poor wummin doon, while basking in their towers ae evil. Bless us, bit no them, because we aw know, that they know exactly whit they’re daeing, so shall the sword ae justice, in the hauns ae some fine strapping wummin, slew them asunder fur aw their wicked and evil ways. We ask ye Mother, tae bless this wee meeting and tae gie us strength tae carry oan the good fight against aw the sexual harassers who believe that us poor wummin ur put here fur their pleasure and fur them tae dae wae us as they bloody-well please. Amen.”
“Amen,” everywan chorused, as a wee nun sitting in the circle made a sign ae the cross towards The Purple Dove.
“Right, before we get doon tae business, Ah’d like tae welcome a new sister who’s joined us fae away oot there in Bishopbriggs and who’s come amongst us tae assist us in our endeavours tae get stuck right in tae they devils who’ve continued their sexist and foul onslaught against the sacred bodies ae oor sisters as they go aboot trying tae earn a wee crust fur themsels and their family. Alice here works wae Bobbins, the big book publishers, where it’s commonplace fur poor innocent wee lassies tae get their bodies invaded by dirty, ink-stained fingers, at every opportunity, so it is. Noo, Alice,” she said, turning tae the newcomer. “Before everywan introduces themsels, jist a wee explanation aboot the meetings. We don’t take written notes or minutes. We only call each other by oor first names and Ah’m always referred tae as Purple Dove. It’s aw fur security reasons. Hiv ye goat that, hen?”
“Aye, thanks, Purple Dove. Ma name’s Alice, and thanks fur allowing me tae join youse the night,” she replied, as everywan smiled and said hello tae her.
“Ma name’s Hetty, and Ah work in Bigforests Department store in Argyle Street and Ah’m proud tae be a Showgirl.
“Hi, ma names Babs, and Ah work wae The Glesga Echo, alang in Hope Street and Ah’m also proud tae be a Showgirl, so Ah am.”
“Ma name’s Geraldine and Ah work up at The Royal and Ah’m definitely proud and honoured tae dae ma duty as a Showgirl.”
“Donna, network co-ordinator fur the group within The Corporation. Ah’ve been wanting tae be a Showgirl since Ah clocked a wee hacket, clatty bugger ae a heidteacher rubbing that crotch ae his up and doon a scared probationary teacher when Ah wis at secondary school. It wis only when Ah came tae work here that Ah realised where he’d served his apprenticeship,” Donna said tae a few nods ae agreement. “If there hidnae awready been a SHOWW group ae sisters oan the go, Ah’d probably hiv started wan up.”
“My name’s Sister Liz and I’m, well, I think that’s obvious where I’m from and I’m proud to be a Showgirl,” Sister Liz fae The Sisters ae Redemption and Mercy said, tae laughter aw roond.
“Ah’m Margaret, and Ah work fur The Evening Citizen and like Babs, we work closely tae cover aw the main media ootlets in the city. Oh, and Ah’m also proud tae be a Showgirl.”
“Ah’m Mary…and Ah’m Wilma, and we baith work at Ropers, the big Clothing Company alang in George Street,” they baith sang in unison, as everywan laughed again. “And we’re proud tae serve oor sisters in the city as Showgirls, so we ur.”
“My name is Victoria, and I represent Glasgow Uni.”
“I’m Crystal, Strathclyde Uni.”
“And we’re both proud tae be Showgirls,” Victoria said oan behauf ae the pair ae them.
“Ah’m Helen…worked in maist bars in the toon centre at wan time or another…don’t take shite fae anywan, bit unfortunately, Ah cannae say the same fur other wummin and lassies in ma line ae work. It’s a hard job working in a pub fur peanuts while trying tae fend aff grubby paws aw night. Ah’m proud tae represent some ae the lassies working in forty four boozers and Ah’ll always be a Showgirl.”
“Ah’m Mary, and Ah…”
“I’m Harriet, and I…”
“So, noo that everywan his introduced themsels, lets start wae aw the update reports before moving oan tae the next month’s direct action targets. Is that okay wae everywan?” The Purple Dove asked, as everywan either nodded or said “Aye.”
“Right, Mary or Wilma. Whit’s the latest wae The Groper fae Ropers?”
“Oan ye go, Wilma, hen,” Mary said.
“Okay, this is oan behauf ae the two ae us. Groper Roper terminated his position as operations manager ae the cutting room two days ago!” Wilma announced as everywan shrieked and hugged each other.
“Aye, it wis a long time coming, bit we goat the clatty bugger in the end, so we did,” Mary added. “The first we kn
ew wis when management called a meeting tae inform everywan that William Roper wis taking o’er responsibility fur the dressmaking department in the factory doon in Derby.”
“And before ye ask, we’ve awready goat word doon tae Helen Storey, the local union rep there, tae warn her whit tae expect. She goat back tae me saying that they’re making up the warning posters awready that Roper The Groper is oan his way. Eighteen months ae letter writing and putting up posters aw roond the building and the railings oot front finally hit them where it hurt. Seemingly, the profit fur the ladies garments wis doon by fifty seven percent in the last year.”
“Well done, girls.” The Purple Dove beamed. “Crystal?”
“Two lecherous lecturers from Glasgow and one from Strathclyde Uni have refused to move on, as anticipated. Management are calling for the unions to intercede to stop the smear campaign. They said that it’s putting off male lecturers from applying for jobs. Sad, eh?” Crystal reported, as everywan burst oot laughing.
“So?”
“So, the campaign against sexual harassment of female staff and students intensifies. The student’s union have been fantastic and have organised a number of fundraising evenings for The Showgirls Fighting Fund. I handed the latest fund raising collection over to Geraldine when I arrived tonight.”
“Donna?”
“Nae change in The Corporation, although two ae the spotters confirmed, oan two separate occasions, that Karen Karoline, The Fastest Typist In The West, his been recruited by Lesley Bare fae the Serious Crime and Intelligence Section up oan Pitt Street as an undercover informer in the building here. Ah’ve put the word oot fur the spotters tae keep their eyes oan her, so Ah hiv.”
“Aye, it’s funny ye should bring up Lesley Bare, Donna, hen,” Hetty, fae Big Forests oan Argyle Street interjected. “We’ve jist hid a new lassie started working wae us. She wisnae in the door five minutes before she wis asking aboot the place if any ae us knew how she could join The Showgirls. Goes by the name ae Lesley Watson, bit despite the black wig and heavy make-up, is in actual fact, oor pal Lesley Bare. She’s keen, Ah’ll gie her that, bit is as subtle as a charging elephant, so she is,” Hetty said tae chuckles.