Well, not toxic, exactly... maybe just a little bit rank. But in a nice way. With a garnish.

Wednesday, February 08, 2006

breakfast meeting

I’m sitting in the kitchen of the local gangster, ScaryNigel.

Well, actually he’s local gangster turned do-gooder, with just a bit of armed robbery on the side now. A kind of ‘Nip down to the Spar after tea to rip off a few packets of fags and intimidate a granny’, type-gangster.

The rumours were that he was going down (which would have scuppered my meeting) but it’s fine, he’s not. Luckily it’s his son that’s about to be banged up instead.

Across the table from me is a local councillor.
I see through the curtain of fag-smoke that’s pouring out of his head, that he’s got an alarming hand-knitted, bright purple jumper on, stretched across his ample frontage.
Maybe it’s a tactic to distract his opponents.
One glance at that jumper and you’ve got after-image burned on your retinas for the next 10 minutes. Who knows what wily, political manoeuvre you could pull in the ten minutes that your enemies stand blinded?

ScaryNigel reclines in his flimsy kitchen chair, huge belly wobbling crazily in time to his jaw, complaining loudly about the lack of government grants to the area. In the background his wife flits around, half chewing a Benson & Hedges and making endless cups of coffee; somehow without choking, or dropping ash in the cups.

I wonder if I should get up and help, but I’m trapped in the corner, boxed in and partially dazed by the woolly jumper. I decide not to, in case I fall over in the haze, or talk posh or something.

Purple Councillor Man says something angry and unintelligible and ScaryNigel joins in being more angry and unintelligible.

Nodding wildly at all the complaining I mutter the odd sound in the roughest accent I can muster and try to look like I’ve got a black eye or a big knife scar or something.
Fortunately I’ve only got one and a half eyebrows, which I can see they are impressed with. I bet I look like I’ve just won a fight.

I set to work on my second mug of coffee, slightly worried that I’ve got to report back to my boss and I really haven’t got the faintest idea what I’ve agreed to.
I hope I haven’t just offered my services as a getaway driver.

I wipe my steaming eyes of smoke and consider it carefully, hoping they don’t expect me to use my car.

They might get fag-ash on the upholstery and then it'll smell nasty and it will force me to buy a dangley scented pine tree thingy and it will make me sneeze all the time and anyway, they're both so massive they might wreck my suspension.


  • At February 08, 2006 11:36 pm, Blogger Kyahgirl said…

    that's an exciting life you lead. What has this got to do with teaching blogging to people with dyslexia? The gangster wants to start a blog?

  • At February 08, 2006 11:43 pm, Anonymous imp said…

    Bugger! I've already bought you a scented pine car freshener for Valentines Day, to go with your wee and poo soft toys. NOW you tell me you don't like them.

    I'll have to think of something else. Steel worker and Valley boy have given me a few suggestions!


  • At February 09, 2006 12:24 am, Blogger funny thing said…

    Er.. yeah, he did, actually. Sounds improbable, I know.

    Anyhow, must rush, I've got a petrol station to rob. No rest for the wicked...

  • At February 09, 2006 12:26 am, Blogger funny thing said…

    ps. Hello steelworker and stu savory.
    steel worker - you can stay if you behave.
    Stu - I've seen you lurking at jonny's place. Thanks for the link :)

  • At February 09, 2006 5:51 am, Blogger Tickersoid said…

    Phew! that was a close call.

    Better check out ebay. You might be needing an NO2 kit for the getaway Fiesta.

  • At February 09, 2006 9:15 am, Blogger garfer said…

    If a gangster told me his name was Nigel I'd probably burst out laughing.

    That would mean a concrete overcoat for me.

  • At February 09, 2006 1:59 pm, Blogger Wyndham said…

    Our local gangster - who briefly made national headlines - once offered my dad, who had just been made redundant as a fork-lift truck driver, a job as a getaway driver on the job. Fact. Although I don't think the getaway vehicle in question was going to be a fork-lift truck. That would have made for the most improbable, certainly the shortest, car chase in history.

  • At February 09, 2006 6:04 pm, Blogger just sayin' said…

    I find the most impressive part of this tale the man in a purple jumper.

  • At February 09, 2006 8:17 pm, Blogger Tickersoid said…

    The others might call you 'Scarbrow' but I wouldn't dare.

    Isn't that a holiday resort?

  • At February 09, 2006 8:49 pm, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    Hehe Nigel the gangster. Have you seen those hula girl cut out air fresheners for cars? They look cool AND if you close your eyes really tight you can pretend you're in Hawaii. Or something.

  • At February 09, 2006 9:50 pm, Blogger Inexplicable DeVice said…

    It was obviously serendipity that you pulled your eyebrow off. If not, you may have ended up smothered in a piece of purple tat and sleeping with the fishes.

  • At February 09, 2006 10:39 pm, Blogger funny thing said…

    How about these forms of getaway vehicle?

    A sledge

    A donkey

    Wyndham, tell your dad to get back on the phone...


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