Tam’s day started off badly and quickly went downhill. Brenda, his long suffering wife, interrupted his peaceful slumber by tossing a bundle of mail on to the bed. One particularly bulky item caught him a direct hit on the bridge of his nose. The sudden pain caused him to jolt his head back involuntarily, only to crack his skull against the wooden headrest.
“Jesus wummin are ye tryin tae finish me aff aw the gither?” he cried, rubbing both his nose and the back of his head at the same time.
“Don’t tempt me,” replied Brenda as she sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on her boots.
Tam yawned and let out a rasping cough as he gently raised himself to a sitting position. He lit his first cigarette of the day and began to tear open the mail.
“Fuckin bills. Is that aw ah ever git these days, fuckin bills?”
“Whit’s yer problem?” replied Brenda. “It’s no you that has tae pay them is it?”
“Aye too bliddy right it’s no,” shouted Ringo from the bedroom across the hall.
Ringo had already got to his feet and was stretching himself, releasing the cobwebs in preparation for the day ahead. He looked down at his younger brother Malky who shared the double bed.
“Are you no gonnae get up’n look furra joab ya lazy wee shite?”
Malky grunted some sort of reply and began to roll a cigarette. Ringo rubbed the pain in his back and cursed under his breath.
“Haw ma,” he shouted. “Ye’ll hiv tae git me a new bed. Ah cannae sleep on they springs any mair.”
“It’s awright fur you,” complained Malky. “Ah’ve goat tae lie here aw bliddy day.”
Having surveyed the day’s mail and discarded it on to the floor, Tam lay back again and drew on his cigarette as he stared at the ceiling. Brenda’s attention was drawn to the loud red print on what was clearly a bill which was well overdue. She leaned forward and picked it up. She read the contents with some trepidation.
“Is that yer answer is it,” she said. “Jist toss it on the flair’n hope it’ll go away?”
“Whit’re ye oan aboot?”
“This,” she raised her voice, waving the document in front of him. “It’s a final demand fae the electricity board.”
“Thank God,” said Tam. “Ah thought the bastards wid never gae up.”
Brenda threw the bill back on to the floor and got to her feet, cursing under her breath.
“Any spare dosh on ye hen?”
“Aye that wull be right.”
“Ah’m seein wee Hughie doon the road aboot a joab, honest. Ah cannae very well walk intae a boozer wi nae readies noo can ah.”
“You must think ma heed button’s up the back,” replied Brenda.
Tam watched her pull on her coat and rush out of the bedroom.
“Ah’m gonnae be late if ah don’t get a move on.”
As she opened the front door she was met by two men, one in his middle years and carrying a briefcase. The other, whom Brenda imagined to be in his mid twenties, held a clip board under his arm.
“Mrs Mitchell?” said the older of the two, his manner both officious and unsmiling.
“Who wants tae know?” she replied, eyeing them both up and down suspiciously.
The man produced an identity card.
“Television Licensing Authority. We called last week.”
“Oh aye that’s right, sorry, ah didnae recognise ye withoot the red mist in ma eyes.”
“Did you manage to buy a licence as promised?”
It was the turn of the younger man to speak.
“Aye, ah did that. If ye don’t mind ah’m in a hurry, ma bus’ll be alang directly.”
“It won’t take a minute,” he would not to be put off. “If we could just see the licence.”
“Look, the door’s no locked. Jist go right in, up the sterrs, first bedroom on the right. Ye’ll find the licence in a shoe box under the bed.”
The two men watched her scurry along the road for some moments before entering the house and proceeding nervously up the stairs. The older gentleman entered the bedroom and silently raised his arm, indicating that his colleague should wait in the hallway. He got down on his knees and quickly located the shoe box.
“Whit the . . . who the hell are you?” exclaimed Tam.
The two men had failed to notice his presence under the crumpled blankets.
“Oh . . . er . . . Mr Mitchell, we’re from the Television Licensing Authority. We’d just like to check your licence.”
“Whit the fuck are ye doin doon there then?”
“It’s ok Mr Mitchell. The licence should be in this shoe box under the bed.”
“Holy Jesus,” declared Tam. “That’s some bliddy detector van you’ve got.”
“Jesus wummin are ye tryin tae finish me aff aw the gither?” he cried, rubbing both his nose and the back of his head at the same time.
“Don’t tempt me,” replied Brenda as she sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on her boots.
Tam yawned and let out a rasping cough as he gently raised himself to a sitting position. He lit his first cigarette of the day and began to tear open the mail.
“Fuckin bills. Is that aw ah ever git these days, fuckin bills?”
“Whit’s yer problem?” replied Brenda. “It’s no you that has tae pay them is it?”
“Aye too bliddy right it’s no,” shouted Ringo from the bedroom across the hall.
Ringo had already got to his feet and was stretching himself, releasing the cobwebs in preparation for the day ahead. He looked down at his younger brother Malky who shared the double bed.
“Are you no gonnae get up’n look furra joab ya lazy wee shite?”
Malky grunted some sort of reply and began to roll a cigarette. Ringo rubbed the pain in his back and cursed under his breath.
“Haw ma,” he shouted. “Ye’ll hiv tae git me a new bed. Ah cannae sleep on they springs any mair.”
“It’s awright fur you,” complained Malky. “Ah’ve goat tae lie here aw bliddy day.”
Having surveyed the day’s mail and discarded it on to the floor, Tam lay back again and drew on his cigarette as he stared at the ceiling. Brenda’s attention was drawn to the loud red print on what was clearly a bill which was well overdue. She leaned forward and picked it up. She read the contents with some trepidation.
“Is that yer answer is it,” she said. “Jist toss it on the flair’n hope it’ll go away?”
“Whit’re ye oan aboot?”
“This,” she raised her voice, waving the document in front of him. “It’s a final demand fae the electricity board.”
“Thank God,” said Tam. “Ah thought the bastards wid never gae up.”
Brenda threw the bill back on to the floor and got to her feet, cursing under her breath.
“Any spare dosh on ye hen?”
“Aye that wull be right.”
“Ah’m seein wee Hughie doon the road aboot a joab, honest. Ah cannae very well walk intae a boozer wi nae readies noo can ah.”
“You must think ma heed button’s up the back,” replied Brenda.
Tam watched her pull on her coat and rush out of the bedroom.
“Ah’m gonnae be late if ah don’t get a move on.”
As she opened the front door she was met by two men, one in his middle years and carrying a briefcase. The other, whom Brenda imagined to be in his mid twenties, held a clip board under his arm.
“Mrs Mitchell?” said the older of the two, his manner both officious and unsmiling.
“Who wants tae know?” she replied, eyeing them both up and down suspiciously.
The man produced an identity card.
“Television Licensing Authority. We called last week.”
“Oh aye that’s right, sorry, ah didnae recognise ye withoot the red mist in ma eyes.”
“Did you manage to buy a licence as promised?”
It was the turn of the younger man to speak.
“Aye, ah did that. If ye don’t mind ah’m in a hurry, ma bus’ll be alang directly.”
“It won’t take a minute,” he would not to be put off. “If we could just see the licence.”
“Look, the door’s no locked. Jist go right in, up the sterrs, first bedroom on the right. Ye’ll find the licence in a shoe box under the bed.”
The two men watched her scurry along the road for some moments before entering the house and proceeding nervously up the stairs. The older gentleman entered the bedroom and silently raised his arm, indicating that his colleague should wait in the hallway. He got down on his knees and quickly located the shoe box.
“Whit the . . . who the hell are you?” exclaimed Tam.
The two men had failed to notice his presence under the crumpled blankets.
“Oh . . . er . . . Mr Mitchell, we’re from the Television Licensing Authority. We’d just like to check your licence.”
“Whit the fuck are ye doin doon there then?”
“It’s ok Mr Mitchell. The licence should be in this shoe box under the bed.”
“Holy Jesus,” declared Tam. “That’s some bliddy detector van you’ve got.”
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