Shrinking willy and the Hanging coat

Shrinking Willy and the Hanging Coat

I remember it well

Heavily made up black hair nice smile and shivering. Her friend had ragged blonde hair and looked tired. They were aged about 19. They were sitting in The Crown, a rough town centre pub drinking cider. It was a freezing cold night in November and I was heading home after work until I bumped into a guy I usually avoided. Ronny Miller was a nutter and I only knew him because he knew people that I knew. Ronny had spent more time inside than out. From the age of 12 Ronny’s life was a mix of detention and freedom. His problem was stealing, he couldn't stop himself. Most of his work was impulsive and by association reckless. He once stood outside Boots the Chemist in the High Street for about an hour staring through the big window at the tills. This of course attracted the attention of every staff member. He chose his moment and charged into the shop grabbed some money out of an open till and legged it. The subsequent photo fit might as well have been a fucking polaroid. Ronny was caught the next day. He was not a good thief.

I heard him call my name and I turned around and thought 'oh fuck it's Ronny' he was older than me and always looked unwashed even when clean. 'Hello Ronny, what you up to?' I said whilst trying to think up a reason to depart. 'Alright Joe boy' he said in that countrified Oxfordshire accent 'I'm going on the piss and you are now invited to join me' I smiled (whilst thinking should I tell him my name isn't Joe its Alec and I really just want to go home)and said 'I'd love to (lying bastard)Ronny but I'm skint'.

Ronny beamed 'it's ok Joe boy (Alec for fuck's sake it's Alec) I've got some money and its my treat so let's go'. It’s always wise to never question where Ronny – unemployed gets is money from, so partly through fear and an 'a fuck it why not' attitude I agreed. Oxford Town Centre on a freezing foggy Tuesday night is not a busy place unless you visit the poncey student bars which was a no go. Imagine being sat next to Stephen Hawkings when all you want to do is get shitfaced and shagged? The bollocks of physics is a fast route to celibacy.

So we wandered from bar to bar drinking and talking shite getting steadily pissed when we arrived at the Crown. The Crown at the weekend was a boxing ring with optics but fortunately most psycho’s seemed to be somewhere else on a Tuesday, except for Ronny.

We sat down at a table at the far end of the pub. The two girls were sitting/hanging on to their high chairs at the bar giggling. Ronny noticed them first. ‘Look Joe, live cattle’ He said whilst I was trying to put my dropped jaw `back in place. ‘Live Cattle?’ I asked hoping he wouldn’t drift into some cowboy theme. Ronny looked at me as if I didn’t get it and followed up with ‘yeah and we’re the ranch hands about to round them up ‘ – oh fuck I said, in my head.

Ronny went to the bar and came back with four drinks and two pissed girls. He introduced himself and ‘Joe’ and the girls responded with ‘Angela (black hair nice smile) and Donna (blonde and tired). The girls were wrapped up for winter. Angela had a thick white polo neck jumper on with jeans and boots. Her long brown coat reminded me of a detective. Donna had a black jumper black trousers and black boots – the female lead in a black magic advert. The conversation drifted between inane and trivial and it would have been simpler if Ronny had just said ‘I’m shagging you’ (whichever girl that clearly couldn’t resist his charm) followed up with ‘and you’re shagging him’. Thankfully Ronny didn’t take such a crashed car approach.

I have no idea why we were walking towards the university parks in thick fog; I was still trying to work out if we had left the pub. Being 18 and thinking you can drink a lot is not the same as being 18 and actually not being able to drink a lot. I was hanging on to the blonde tired girl (Dongela?) and whilst Ronny was being an Octopus with Black haired smiley girl.

‘I know how we can get into the parks’ said Ronny ‘follow me’ we of course did because that’s what you do isn’t it? Ronny found a hole between the railings that we could all squeeze through and we wandered towards the river. Everything was a haze the urge to pee was frequent and the fog seemed thicker n this vast open space. I found myself alone with Blonde tired girl. Where’s the other two gone’ I innocently enquired? ‘Dunno’ she giggled. We walked into a small wooded area and ‘fell down’ on top of each other and so began the fumbling, mouth missing and teeth clashing of drunken passion. The search for breasts (how many layers of clothing has she got on?) and the pain of having my testicles grabbed with the same warmth as a robotic arm in that fucking fairground game where the steel hand just misses the best prize was not what I considered to be eroticism.

Eventually with the combined attraction of jeans and pants and trousers and tights around ankles we attempted to shag. I couldn’t stop myself imagining a sex/cookery programme where the chef was explaining why a recipe failed. Alcohol mixed with freezing conditions and half naked bodies lying on wet grass in thick fog near midnight will not produce great sex.

Of course thinking like that meant I was never going to get an erection even if a miniature mobile crane offered to help. After a couple of failed attempts at entry I pulled up my pants and jeans and said ‘must be brewer’s droop’. At the time I had no idea what it meant and I was too green to be macho. Blonde tired girl muttered ‘I suppose so’ she didn’t seem that disappointed.

As we tried to find our way back to where we came in we of course lost our way. We arrived at a different part of the park where the only way out was to climb the six foot railings that had metal arrow head shapes at the top. Easy enough for me but blonde girl was not so keen. As we were considering our options we heard voices. ‘Ronny, is that you?’ I bellowed. ‘Where the fuck are you’ shouted Ronny, as is recent conquest giggled. They joined us at the fence. Across the railings was a diagonal rail and I suggested to the girls that they use this as a sort of ladder where they could climb up and then put their feet in between the top of the rails. Neither girl was impressed but I was cold sobering up and tired. I climbed up and over the fence and landed safely on the other side.

‘Right I said’ to the girls, just do what I did and when you reach the top I’ll hold out my arms and grab you as you jump. Black hair smiley took the first steps up the slanted rail her body was being supported (groped) by Ronny. She carefully placed each foot inbetween the top of the railings and stood for a few seconds before unexpectedly launching herself towards me.

‘fuck’ I shouted ‘shit’ she replied and then it happened I missed her but she hadn’t landed on the ground (the physics of this? I should have sat next to Stephen Hawkings after all). Silence was followed by ‘help me down’ I look up to see that black hair smiley girl was actually hanging off the railings with her feet dangling about six inches from the floor. Her long brown detective coat hadn’t jumped at the same time as her and the railings had found the gap between her back and the inside of the coat. As she was about to land the black metal arrow heads pierced her coat on both shoulders. She looked as if she had hung herself up inside a wardrobe on giant coat hanger.

It’s hard to explain laughter and how powerful it can be at moments like this and even hanging girl saw the funny side albeit from a higher vantage point. There was no injury to report just an image that will never leave. We managed to unhinge girl and headed towards a taxi rank.

I decided to walk home and I thanked Ronny for a great night out and said goodbye to both girls. The tears of laughing were still there when I landed in my bed.

Ronny being Ronny had gone back to black hair smiley girl’s sister’s house for round two but having got no answer when they tried to get in to the house Ronny addressed the problem with a brick through the glass panel of the door and a turn of the key on the inside. This moment of triumph was quickly followed by a chase down the street from and angry man with a cricket bat who was in bed with black hair smiley’s sister.

I had one more encounter with Ronny before he seemed to vanish from Oxford. I had been given a Supremes triple album as a present which I didn’t want. Ronny’s new girlfriend was a big Supremes fan wit an imminent birthday, so I offered to sell it to him for £3. The deal was done in a pub and I brought the album in and Ronny gave me the cash in 2 pence pieces. ‘fucks sake Ronny have you not got any other change than this?’ He looked at me and smiled before heading towards the door and said ‘that’s all there was in the telephone box I’ve just robbed’ then he was gone.

©SJ2010