Always Read the Label Chapter 2 The Morning after Pillock

Couldn’t get to sleep last night so spent about 4 hours listening to the Pale Fountains on headphones. I actually felt like I’d got inside the record player, a late surge from the mushrooms. I'm starving now and need some nutrition. So I head downstairs for some Frosties. Always does the trick.
There’s no one about so I presume I’ve got the house to myself for a few hours, guaranteeing no inquisition about the hours I keep. It’s a God-send. Well it is his day .A quick check on the football results and I’m off for a long bath, a slow float back to reality.
I feel half human as I dry off and get dressed. Still avoiding mirrors but getting there. Now able to venture out, I head down to Emlyns’ house, convinced that the clock was wrong and its not yet morning it's so quiet.

His mum opens the door with a knowing look, but she has no evidence so I’m let in, and told he’s in his room.
I go up and find him sat on his bed with a really red, dry face.
“What’s up with your face?” I have to laugh when I ask.
“Its not funny. I got in last night and was convinced I had loads of spots, so I put a whole tube of Oxy10 on it. When I woke up, this had happened.” He says pointing out the obvious.
“Oh well. At least you’ve not got spots.”
‘I get the ‘fuck off’ look for this comment and change the subject, fast.
“Fancy going up to Goodys’?”
He agrees and after he finds a scarf to cover his flakes, we head for the bus stop.
Goody opens the door looking like death.
“You look how I feel.” Emlyn tells him.
He just nods.
“Where’s Wig then?” Our source of amusement is missing.
“He’s at work, at Wickes in Whitefield. Try saying that in my condition” lisps Goody.
We do and he's right - it’s a regular little tongue twister that ends in silence.
“Doesn’t Wig work on the information desk, answering telephone queries?”
We all look at each other in a way that says lightbulbs have just lit up our dull afternoon.
This particular enquiry however requires precision planning.
First we synchronise watches by glancing at the kitchen clock to work out if our victim will be on his lunch break. 11.30. That gives us about an hour to play with.
“We have to put on an accent.”
There’s always a spanner in the works, but we go through our limited repertoire.
Emlyn has a passable Scouse imitation, I have a highly suspect Russ Abbot inspired Scottish accent. Goody proves a more a behind-the-scenes man.
My Scottish accent is the unlikely winner, kilts down.
Goody tells us that Wig hates people saying ‘is that Wickes?’ when he answers the phone.
So at least we have an opening gambit.
The rest we’ll just have to improvise.
Tommo appears at the window with Vlad and are hurried inside and briefed on the plan, if that’s what It is. We take up our positions: Vlad, Tommo and Goody man the upstairs phone with instructions not to make a sound, me and Emlyn take charge of the downstairs and look up the number.
Off to work we go then. Or away to work we go then. The phone rings a few times then is picked up.
“Hello, Wickes customer services, can I help you?” It is unmistakably Wig.
“Hello, is that Wickes?” my Scottish cousin asks in a slowly improving accent. Truth told, it couldn’t get much worse.
“Yes it is.”
“Is that customer services?”
“Yes it is Sir, can I help you?” maybe a little more abruptly.
“I, maybe you can sonny, maybe you can. I bought a door from your store on Saturday last and it does nay fit.”
“Well Sir if you’d like to bring it back to the store, we’d be happy to change it.”
“I canna do that son.”
“Why not Sir, the store is open till 6pm, seven days a week.”
“No son, I canna do that cos my wife will feel the draught, she sits near the door.
This seems to throw him a little and he hesitates.
“Are you still there son, are you listening ta me?”
“Yes Sir I’m just trying to find a solution to your problem.”
“I don’t want a solution, I want an answer.”
“It’s the same thing Sir.” Just the hint of trying to escape sarcasm whispering into his voice.
“Don’t you get cheeky with me ya young whipper snapper.”
“I wasn’t Sir, now if you could tell me the size and style of door you bought, I’ll find out if we have a replacement in stock.”
A change of track, nice move, but I’m not thrown.
“I ,well the doors slightly smaller than my back door, but it’s wood just like the other. I thought it would fit cos it was the same colour.”
“No Sir all the doors are different sizes.”
“Are you stupid? All the doors on my street are the same size.”
“What I meant Sir is…”
“You must be stupid sonny.”
“Actually I’m quite intelligent, I have nine O levels, and am studying for A levels.”
Bingo, I’ve got him riled.
“I find that hard to believe, when you think all doors are different sizes.”
“I didn’t say that Sir.”
“Oh, so I’m a liar now am l? I try to swap my door and I’m a liar.”
I can almost hear him hissing with anger, so naturally push him further.
“I, well when I cut the door in half to make a stabledoor, I think it shrunk. So it must be faulty.”
Silence.
Then: “You’ve cut the door in half?”
“I, how else do you make a stable door? It’s what the wife’s always wanted. Now she’s sat in a permanent draft, thanks to you.”
“We can’t exchange a door that you’ve cut in half.”
“How no?“
“Because it’s no good to anyone.’”
“It is to someone who needs a smaller door than me.’”
“Yes but it’s damaged.”
“It is not. It’s enhanced. The wee lick of paint I gave it makes it more valuable.”
At this point I have to send Emlyn upstairs to stop the others giving the game away by laughing.
“You’ve painted it?”
“Of course I’ve painted it. You can’t leave a door bare.”
“Look Sir, you can’t exchange this door. I’m sorry.”
“Are you the manager son?”
“No Sir I’m customer services.”
“Well you’re not doing very well serving this customer, I want to speak to the manager.”
“I’ll just get him Sir.” he says this with obvious relief and covers the receiver. It all goes quiet, then:
“Hello this is the store manager, can I help you?”
“Is that young lad stupid, he says I can’t swap ma door, though it does nay fit.”
“Well Sir from what the young man has told me it doesn’t sound like you’re entitled to an exchange, but if you’d like to bring the door into the store I’ll see what I can do.”
“What about the draft? My wife could freeze.”
“I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do about that Sir.”
“That’s outrageous. I’m gonna see you jimmy and him. I’m on my way over right now.”
I slam the phone down not believing I’ve got away with it. They either fell for it or they were just playing along. I hope they fell for it.
Mission accomplished, it’s time to reassemble at base camp. So the others come downstairs and we sit round the table reliving the call.
“I reckon we should wait till Wig gets home, ask him if he’s coming out, then ask him if he had a good day at work.” reasons Vlad.

“Hello is Wayne there please?” Wayne isn't a new character. It's Wigs real name. The voice of pure innocence, provided by Emlyn.
“Alright Wig, what’ve you been up to then? You were working?”
Slowly, slowly.
“We’re going for a drink tonight if you fancy it. Yeah? OK. No not The Waterloo, not after last night, we can’t remember what went on. The Dogs at sevenish. See you there then.”

The Dogs. It’s our other local, bigger than the Waterloo, less friendly and more expensive. It’s one advantage is it attracts more girls. For some reason this makes it popular. There’s not that many people in when we arrive, but it’s usually full by closing.
Tommo points out a girl that he knows from school and gleefully reports that she told his ex-girlfriend she caught a dose when she first went to college.
Oh dear. A sensitive matter given to insensitive people. To broadcast.
Within about two minutes the whole table knows this and the poor girl knows we’re talking about her. So she starts giving us dirty looks, which just fans the flames.
Deciding direct further action is required and full of college confidence, she comes across the room only to be greeted by a noisy round of applause. This confuses her and she starts to smile, asking, “What’s that for?”
The reply given in near unison is “The Clap.”
She doesn’t get it at first and actually scratches her head, then turns and tries to leave a room full of loud people, the loudest ones still clapping, quietly. The whole room knows what’s going on and she couldn't leave quickly enough if she had a rocket.

Wig comes in while we’re still laughing and is told the joke. This lulls him into a quick false sense of security as it's a joke at someone else's expense, so we ask him about work.
“It was alright, I was knackered after last night though.”
We all agree, realise that we're nodding a bit too much and and quickly pretend not to be interested in his reply.
“There was this mad Scots man phoned up.”
BINGO.
“He wanted to bring a door back that he’d sawn in half.”.
“He never! What did you say?”
“I told him where to get off. Wouldn’t take no shit. Put him in his place.”
“ I bet you did, you’re like that. I bet you didn’t budge an inch.’ When Vlad says this, I have to go to the toilet to stop myself from giving the game away.
A quick splash a few deep breaths and I’m on my way back.
He’s still at it. Now warming to his theme.
“Yeah so I said to him if you want to come down I’ll be here. Just ask for me. I wasn’t scared of some jock. I told him straight away that I wasn’t going to swap the door, then I slammed the phone down.”
Its as if he's stepped into a phone box as a mild mannered weekend customer services executive and emerged as Super Wickes.