Barred Sine Die Ch 1: The Demand

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Published by scratch on June 7, 2012 - 20:12
from the ABC set Scratch's Prose

Health Warning:

This story contains very bad language and some coarse humour.

Chapter 1: The Demand

Dear Sirs,

Further to the events of the evening of 11th November. The brewery, following consultation with the landlord of The Miners Lamp, holds you wholly, solely and collectively responsible for the damage caused to property, fixtures and fittings.

As you may be aware, the cost of repairs is not inconsiderable; not least (amongst other things) the replacement of the television set and the re-covering of the pool table.

Please find enclosed our invoice, which we trust you will see fit to honour by return.

Yours without prejudice,
Messer’s Whitely and Long.
For and on behalf of Greenall Whitley Brewery LTD

A brief hush had fallen on the listeners.

“Where did the fuckin’ pool table end up”?

“What d’you mean”?

“Well, pool tables are fuckin’ ‘eavy, - I once tried to nick one from West Ward Labour Club; so how did it get out the pub”?

“What the fuck are y’ talkin’ about Mick? said Brian.

“What I’m sayin’ is where did it get recovered from”?

“Fuck me Mick, it didn’t get recovered it got re-covered”.

Big Mick stared blankly.

“So how much are they after Spartacus”?

I turned the letter over, nothing; then I picked up the envelope and shook a small, thin piece of paper out onto the table where it rested in the late autumn sunshine. The assembled rag-bag of the Bull’s Head darts and dominoes team stared down at it.

“Four hundred quid? They’ve got to be fuckin’ jokin’. They’ve no fuckin’ chance”.

“I don’t know Geoff, it was a Sony Trinitron – the remote looked like something from NASA. It had picture in picture and everything”

“It had a fucking pool cue in it when I last saw it. I swear Alan; you looked like Fatima Whitbread throwing his javelin. That was some shot my friend”.

“Not really Geoff, I was aiming at that cunt who played the double nine for sixteen and the match”. Everyone laughed.

“Four hundred quid though? Fuckin’ ‘ell”.

The enormity of what had happened started to sink in. It was time to start the process and that responsibility fell to me. I looked at the assembled members and they looked back. The vault of the Bull’s Head had never seemed in the slightest bit lonely or threatening but now, for a not quite fifteen- year-old boy it was both these things and then some.

“Ok. First thing. We’re all in this together right”?

I knew I couldn’t go wrong with this; it was just the sort of thing they liked - obvious and to the point. Sure enough it drew nods of approval from those most responsible for the fracas of the 11th and from the less guilty, a tacit acceptance of what was so obviously right.

“So, next thing. How much is in the kitty”?

George, the treasurer who had recently been released from Strangeways following another six month stint for theft, pulled a grubby note book from his Parka and inspected the entries.

“Fuck all” he announced.

Time slowed down and then stopped still; just like when it seems that everyone else is frozen stiff but you can still move around flicking punches like an invisible man. I got out of the way of the swinging fists and watched bewildered as it kicked off yet again. It was never going to last long though and it was the quietest fight I’d ever seen.

The pub was empty and everyone knew that the landlady had to be kept sweet. If she barred us that was it, and wrecking the vault was a sure fire way of pissing her off. We had only been at The Bull’ since the start of the season and only then because a quick change of venue had become necessary after being kicked out of The Montrose – a feat in itself unprecedented.

Putting it simply there was nowhere left to go. We were, as the saying goes, drinking in the last chance saloon – literally. This unstated but universally understood truth calmed everyone down faster than the arrival of a Paddy Wagon. At least no-one had been glassed and that I always thought, was a positive thing.

“Let's all just calm down and work something out; fucking hell...”

As a rule swearing was something I tended to avoid because it offended the others; all of them to a man were old enough to be my father.

“He’s right. Sit down and shut the fuck up” said Alan.

Everyone sat down. I felt pleased and shit-scared at the same time.

Alan turned to me; “So go on then Einstein”.

“Well first off, George, no offence mate but how come there’s no money in the club? We’ve all been paying subs since the start of the season so by my reckoning there should be a hundred and eighty quid in it and that gets us almost half way out of the shit.

All eyes turned to George.

“That’s right Spartacus, that’s what ‘should’ be in the club...”

You could hear the sound of the Yatzy machine from its place on the wall next to the Gents.

“Only...” George shifted on his stool, “Only I’ve had to have a bit of a borrow out of it occasionally. I couldn’t turn out for the team otherwise, y’ know how it is, fuckin’ GIRO’S are next to nowt”.

Robert couldn’t help himself and said what everyone else was thinking;

“What’s the point in havin’ a fuckin’ treasurer if he’s gonna rob the club”?

“I said borrow, not keep - and if you ever call me a thievin’ cunt again I will fuckin’ kill y’, so I suggest that you shut the fuck up Bob”.

Everyone knew that this was no idle threat, but of course nothing had ever been proved. Alan stood up,

“George, sit down. Both of y’, button it, Spartacus is gonna tell us what to do”. His eighteen stone bulk and well-deserved reputation for casual violence had the desired effect.

“Lads, lads; arguing amongst ourselves is not going to help. If George said ‘borrow’ then I believe him” (I couldn’t help considering the irony of having to put our collective faith in the honesty of a chronically unsuccessful career criminal), “So he’ll pay it back; pay the money back into the club, won’t you George?” I looked at George, praying for his agreement and then carried on. “As long as the money’s back in the club by the end of the season - before anyone would actually get paid out anyway – then it’s like it’s never been gone in the first place”.

No-one could argue with this level of obvious truth and reason, George seemed especially keen on it; exoneration and wriggle-room in one undeniable statement. He took the bait;

“Spartacus is right, I’ll put the money back in time for the Manchester trip and everyone will get paid out, right”?

I decided not to mention that this was already a breach of the mooted terms; the Manchester trip was technically after the season had finished, but being pedantic had often got me into trouble and in any case nobody else had seemed to notice.

Of course the fight, the arguing and the disappearance of the club’s money in no way addressed the immediate problem – the brewery’s demand for the four hundred pounds.

“So all we need to do is get the four hundred quid together, sharpish”.

This was the best I could come up with and I knew it was shit. Four hundred pounds was after all a ludicrous sum.

“Can’t we just tell ‘em to fuck off’?

“You should have been a diplomat Mick” said Alan.

“What - and get kicked out of the league halfway through the best season we’ve ‘ad in livin’ memory Mick”? countered Geoff.

Now it did occur to me that as it stood, languishing in eighteenth place in the table out of a possible twenty four could hardly be considered a vintage performance and that most members died in their forties anyway - but like I said, pedantry had got me nowhere. Brian spoke up.

“Spartacus, y’ gonna ‘ave to write a letter. Y’ good at that sort of shit. Write to the fuckers and buy some time so the rest of us can get on with finding the sponies”.

And there it was. A course of action. Not exactly cunning but at least something.

The landlady appeared from the best-side,

“Are any of you gentlemen actually going to buy a drink this mornin’? - it’s nearly twelve o-clock, I open in half an hour”.

George stood up,

“Molly, might I say you look like a million dollars. Drinks all round and one for yourself – I’ll get these”.

Molly started to pull the pints to the sound of cheering. George winked at me from the corner of his eye as he sidled over.

“Spartacus, I’ve heard you’re a handy little fucker. Six fights, six wins and six KO’s i’nt it? St Cuthbert’s ABA must be well-chuffed. That’s the best run since Alan boxed for ‘em and God knows that’s a fuckin’ long time ago. So not only can yer throw a left ‘n right but yer can read ‘n write t’ boot. I think you and me need to ‘av a little chat”.

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Comments

Like it scratch. Looking forward to the next round.

Thanks very much Parsons.

Excuse me Scratch but aren't you the bloke that writes brilliant poetry? Where the f..k did this come from? It's superb!
There was a lot to like about this, the plot was good, it had humour, some terrific dialogue and best of all I wanted more of it!
Hopefully a part two, three, four?
I'd read them all, thats for sure.

Jolono my friend, that came from a past life that I remember with love and hate in equal measure! Thanks so much for the comment and enjoy the break. Cheers mate.

Hi scratchy, finally got round to it. As always with your stuff, a highly enjoyable read, and your skill with characterisation through dialogue was second-to-none and always is for that matter. I love stories that 'live' and 'chime' and you always seem to be able to pull it off in whatever you write. Great stuff and congratulations on the cherries by the way.

Trev

Cheers Trev, hanks for reading.

P.S. I was forgetting my manners, thanks to the editors of the pick!

Great stuff loved the dialogue as all above have said. Sounds like the old days in the Old Kent Road!Linda

Nice one Linda. Thanks for reading and letting me know!

To quote the great Scratch-

'poetry and prose sublimity rolled into one person.

GOD IT'S SO NOT FAIR!!!!'

This is marvellous, Scratch, can't wait for more. The title is over my head though!

Ok Sid. The first word of the title is easy. "you're barred" is what a landlord/lady says to a customer who they no longer want in their pub (but I guess you know that already though not from personal experience I hasten to add!). The next bit's Latin it literally means "for all days" or more loosely "for ever". I don't think that it's used much at all these days but in prehistoric times when I was a person in this story if you were 'sine die' you would never darken that particular establishments door ever again - not that I was ever sine die you understand. 7;)

Thanks for the read and the comment. I only tapped this out quick as a holiday distraction (it's half term) so the encouragement just might make me look again. Being serious Sid for a second (and you know I genuinely value your opinion) do you think this would be worth pursuing?

Absolutely! The first thing I thought when I got to the end was, 'Oh good, he's left it open for more.' And I bet everyone else thought the same. :D

P.S- thanks for the Latin lesson- I'll remember that!

Great writing abd believably succinct dialogue.
I enjoyed this, even with one of my niggly bastard headaches. In fact, I feel slightly better now.
It's good to see you scratching the surface of form with prose, and how accomplished it is. A good few titters along the way always helps. Oldpesky writes in a similar vein.
I thought the ending came a bit quick but then read it again and it all tallied up.
Keep 'em coming, buddy.

Have to admit, scratch, when I first read it and got to the end I felt the same as Richard, but I read it again and it fell into place nicely.

You're 'reet good' at this prose lark, and I would be more than keen to hear the continuing saga.

(Just a small typo, before I forget...end of second page should be, 'shit-scared' - I think;-)

I read this to my hubbie (who is usually nit-picky to a fault) and he loved it, to say the least. Your characterisation which you form through the dialogue is excellent. No 'cut-out cardboard characters', these.

Also what I found effective, is that we don't learn of the narrator's age until a good way into the story, which sheds a whole new light on things.

In short, thoroughly and utterly enjoyed and many thanks, indeed, for pointing me in its direction.

Silver;-)

Thanks Blighters and Silver. I think that I might write a bit more now that I have your opinions (and of course of the other kind contributors above).

Thanks for taking the time for reading the both of you.

Silver I'll get onto 'shit-scared' right away. Thanks for the heads up on that (and I bet there are loads of others too!).

Scratch, what a change indeed from "Kingfisher"

"...His eighteen stone bulk and well-deserved reputation for casual violence had the desired effect..."

Bet he drinks milk on the quiet and knits.

ScoZen, even in the safety of my far removed (from this action) house, the long passage of time since the events and shielded as I am by by (probably spurious) electric anonymity, your comment unnerves me given what I know/knew about this man.

Thanks for reading. Did you like it by the way? In terms of story and execution.

I'm Spartacus! No, I'm Spartacus! Anyway, enough of that... Excellent piece, scratch - and I agree with Tina, you develop your characters extremely well through detailed dialogue and pull the reader right in. Great to read some prose from you, and well done on the cherries!

Magic xxx

Many thanks MistakenMagic. I hope all the exams are finished and went superbly well.

Yep, all done and dusted - I get my results next week. Though I don't even have time to dwell on that as I'm currently living under a mountain of Poetry Society paperwork. Honestly, with funding applications, membership fees and ratification to sort out I'm looking forward to handing the torch over this time next year to my successor with a manic laugh: 'Haha! It's your problem now, mate!' OK, kidding, I love it really ;-)

Magic xxx

/:-)

Really enjoyed it. It definitely drew me in to want to find out more. I think the dialogue was used very skillfully.

Many thanks for reading and for letting me know PFH.

Christ on a skateboard! Just caught up with this. Can't add much to what's already been said. I'm in for the kill, mate. Wonderful stuff.

Big smile Stan. Thanks for reading and for letting me know. Cheers matey!

“What I’m sayin’ is where did it get recovered from”?

“Fuck me Mick, it didn’t get recovered it got re-covered”.

you looked like Fatima Whitbread throwing his javelin... Cute! She'll sue.

Cracking start. I notice you've got another one up and will try and get to it today. Really enjoyed this. Good luck with the rest of it.

Thank you for reading and the lovely, supportive comment Sooz!

I read 'Ursa Major' last night and I guess I expected something similar. After I read that story I managed to convince myself that you were an American with direct experience of Alaska, so when I read this my eyebrows almost fell off in surprise! There's nothing I can say that hasn't already been said, Scratch, but I have to say that your use of dialogue (not to mention your understanding of the working class folk who inspired your characters) is excellent. I was brought (or maybe dragged up) in the heart of the Black Country, and while I was a student I worked in a local pub inappropriately called 'The Welcome Stranger,' because strangers weren't welcome at all. You might have been a fly on the wall watching the antics of the mens' darts team in that dinghy drinking hole, who were largely Irish navvies. Brilliant stuff! I look forward to reading the other chapters, hopefully after I've taken my daughter swimming (a time I had intended to set aside for writing, but bugger it, it'll have to wait).

Nice one the Walrus. Not American I'm afraid - born and bred in the setting of this story, which happens to be a place called Wigan (the same place that appears in the title of George Orwell's "The Road to Wigan Pier").

Thanks for reading Mate.

I love The Road To Wigan Pier - Pinky is one of the most abominable characters in literature. When we were newly weds my missus and I spent a few hours in Wigan hunting through the local charity shops on the way to, if I remember correctly, the Peak District.

Probably the lake district if you travelled from the Midland Walrus. Peak district is Derbyshire and so south of Wigan from your neck of the woods.

You'll find lots of charity shops in Wigan along with pawnbrokers, pound shops, pie shops and new wave money-lenders.

The garage that appears in chapter two was actually oppositte Wigan pier (yes it's a real thing).

Parts of Wigan reminded me very much of Walsall, where I've lived all my life. I feel at home in such rough and ready places, but at times it scared the shit out of my missus because though she's not from what you'd call a wealthy background she had a slightly posher upbringing than I did.

7:-)

I love this, you've got a great ear for dialogue and atmosphere, really interested to see where this goes.

Damn it scratch - that was good prose and now i'm going to have to read the rest. I thought you was poet? Prose is evil scratch, it takes long to read.

Yes, it takes a long time to read, but sometimes it's worth it.....

Hi scratch,

Really glad this was recommended to me by Stan. Thoroughly enjoyed it and the dialogue was really well worked. I've even picked out a few tricks I may employ as I find I struggle with my dialogue scenes.

Well done!

Shep

Oh yessss!!!
Like it a lot. Dialogue? Couldn't have put it better myself being a south london lad haha.
Off to the next.

Thank you both Roy and Shep.

Most welcome. Back for more tomorrow.

“Can’t we just tell ‘em to fuck off’?

“You should have been a diplomat Mick” said Alan.
Wonderful stuff, very funny.

Can't wait to read more.... Thanks for brightening up my evening.

KJD

Hello KJD. Thanks for stopping by to read and of course for the lovely positive comment. It's always nice to get visitors. I have had a very long holiday over the summer but I am now starting to get back into the swing of things.

Thanks.

As the song says ' Caaaan you feeeel the luuuuve tonight'. You got it all goin' on, you have xx

The dialogues great and the story ain't bad either. cheers.

Great dialogue, great story, scratch. It's excellently paced - I've always struggled with writing dialogue when there is so many characters in the scene - it tends to stutter along and impede smooth reading. This is a lesson in how to do it. Looking forward to catching up with this story!

I couldn't agree more ISD. It's difficult to keep the flow if you have to include, 'says Dave, replied Steve, retorted Angelo"....

I'll say it again, lovely stuff Scratch

KJD

Thanks loads you two!

Fuck me - Whoops, beg pardon - Scratch, it was the bloody title that stopped me from reading these. I thought they would be too erudite.

Now I shall have to read them all and I try not to read too many continuing stories because it's so difficult to keep up. See what you've gone and done.

But if you've read my other comment on your poem then you can take it this is 'a monument to Joy'

MOya

Yes I have read your comment on "The Attic". Thanks for reading it MOya! If you decide to read this one rest assured that it finishes at chapter 11. Not exactly 'war and Peace'. So I do hope that you enjoy it.

Couldn't recommend it highly enough Moya - bloody brilliant this whole series!

KJD

Great stuff. A strong start which makes me want to read the rest...

Nice one pradaboy. If you do read on any feedback would be well received. I am currently working on this to extend it into something closer to full novel length so any tips and pointers would be super. Especially to do with character extension or deepening the plot/storyline. But please don't feel obliged!

"It had a fucking pool cue in it when I last saw it"....spit out my Guinness (never recommended). Genuine LOL.

I'm a Yank, been her since Oct. 3 2012, but here permanent. So some of the references go past me unsecured, as it were.

That being said, I'm in for the multitude of chapters now awaiting me.

I also can now see why you like some of my stuff....

I will read some of your poetry, but am no poet, so comments will likely not be forthcoming.

Is 400 quid really that much money?

;=}

It was in the early eighties when this story is set; especially when everyone was broke anyway!

:-D

Awesome! great dialogue, great characters, great plot, and a solid believable setting. I also see that there are another 10-odd chapters to read, which I will do :)
nice one scratch, HipPriest :D

Finally got around to starting this one.

Nice beginning, curious to read more and see where it goes.

GGHades502

Quid-slang for 1 pound sterling = to $1.52 American. More or less. Probably less given our present economy.

Observation: The nice thing about being relatively new here (3 months I believe) is when I do go exploring, (like now) I don't have to wait for the next installment. If someone of us has penned a series, I just make my way to the next chapter.

No waiting. I hate waiting. Wait a second, hate is kind of strong. Hows about, I dislike waiting? Nope screw it, dislike doesn't work, I hate waiting. There I said it.

I'm liking this. So we'll be moving along. Onward and upward as they say. Query: Who the hell is they? Doesn't matter. Nice work thus far and Congats on the cherries, they match your jacket...Wes

A 15 year old boy, in amongst this lot, yet he knows how to fight. We see his vunerability and his strengths and wish we were him, well I do. A rough life, spoken with words that are too real to be just called authentic.

This made me laugh:

And there it was. A course of action. Not exactly cunning but at least something

:-)

Thanks magicdarer. Yes the lad gets into many scrapes and tight spots before the end. All these are listed as 18 cert, there is bad language and course humour all the way through so if you do read on (I hope that you do :) ) just bear the health warning in mind mate.

Thanks.

A very similar track record, I see.

And this place sounds like my old local, on speed.

Mark.

Yes Mark it is from your neck of the woods as it were.

;)

Barred Sine Die Ch 1: The Demand

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