Freak Show by John Duffy - HTML preview

 

‘Deep Purple – Smoke on the Water https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zUwEIt9ez7M - Headbangers of the world unite!

 

‘The Eagles – Hotel California https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yyy4yaVwsv0 - ‘The Long Run’ indeed. As far away from these fuckers as possible I’d say! ‘Nuther smoke lads?’

 

The Doobie Brothers – Long Train Running - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m4tJSn0QtME – So it’s true what they say. White men can’t dance!

 

The B52’s – Rock Lobster http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tDZy6-fMCw4 -Total shite. Floor emptier. ‘Crock Lobster’ even!

 

‘Led Zeppelin – Rock and Roll https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0WzG64syKHA - no footnote required.

 

‘Pink Floyd – Money https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SYN96RWEo28 - as above.

 

‘Kansas – Carry on my Wayward Son https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2X_2IdybTV0 – OK so name another Kansas song people?

 

‘Boston – More than a feeling https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SSR6ZzjDZ94 – all eight guitars included.

 

‘Santana – She’s not there http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5p0SiH1RaXc  Two solos. Not one. Two. Like Dave Evans’ jeans.

 

‘Bowie – The Jean Genie https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yEmGQYCuc6M – The Yardbirds anybody? You the man. Magpie.

 

‘Echo and the Bunnymen – The Cutter https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z8H0xtvxoq0 - one of the newer ones. But outrageously awesome even so!

 

‘Rush – The Spirit of Radio https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FFpZFnJ6ZT8 - Canadian prog rock outfit with helium balloon assisted chanteur at the helm.

 

‘AC/DC – Whole Lotta Rosie https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eMPjs55hNzQ - the Fremantle doctor is in the house!

 

‘Japan – Quiet Life https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xhm-EqcPta0  - You’re just a girl, what do you know about make up?

 

‘Thin Lizzy – Still in Love with you https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XsIubn5Pp6s  Identify girl of your dreams so and tap her on the shoulder. If by some miracle acquiescence to a temporary dancing tryst ensues, assume a limpet like grasp immediately. Rotate as a duo for the duration of the tune and inhale great nostrifuls of Anais Anais or LouLou in the meantime. Don’t forget to thank God for tender and small mercies. Halfway through the song move your hand down towards the general small of the back area and await reaction. If no general outcry gushes forth, move your hand further down towards the general ‘cheek of the arse’ area. If your good fortune continues unabated, avail of this totally unexpected opportunity and stick your tongue into the orifice situated directly across from your own. If you’ve been blanked totally from the outset however, peer on dispiritedly at others in the throes of romance from the invidious shadows to the side.

 

Bob Dylan – Positively 4th Street https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DUA2Fod7nHc – for those peering on dispiritedly at others in the throes of romance from the invidious shadows to the side.

 

I couldn’t believe my luck. What a turn up for the books. From the invidious shadows to the side I spotted Ann at the back of the hall to the left. Not too far away from the fire escape exit and standing on her own as well. And looking fairly bored too if I was reading it correctly. She saw me approach (somewhat tentatively on my part, I have to admit. Our last meeting had not ended well. Somewhat messily if I recall) and smiled. Yes, you heard me right. SMILED! Marcus had gone to get us some drinks so I’d decided to make my way over on my own. A bit forward for me admittedly, but the fact that she was by herself encouraged me to throw caution to the wind for once.

 

“You do realise I hope,” she said, laughing confidently as I approached, “that for at least a half an hour after you left, Naughty Roberts had the pungent odour of a ramshackle and decrepit nursing home? Seriously dude it fucking reeked. I’m not joking!”

 

Much as I was pleased to see Ann, I was anxious to brush that whole shameful affair as far under the carpet as possible. Call me sensitive but being reminded of the time I shit my pants in the company of Bob Geldof, is not my idea of a jovial discourse worth pursuing. I made a conscious effort so to move away from the subject ASAP.

 

“Bad dope Ann," I put forward. "Bad pint. Bad curry. Period. Bad everything.”

 

“’Period’ is right pal,” she said, snickering on. “And unlike our own monthly unpleasantness, more of a one off ‘shitting liquid excrement through your fucking arse’ kind of period!”

 

Charming. Again, much as I was pleased to see her, we really did need to get off this unsavoury subject sooner rather than later. So I ventured an alternative line of communication.

 

“So where’s your pal,” I said nonchalantly. Rubber stamping thereby (I hoped) a termination of this disagreeable and frankly inglorious topic. “Fiona is it?”

 

“Ahh she picked up some jerk during ‘Us and Them’ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s_Yayz5o-l0, so she’s snogging him down the back. See? Over there’ she continued casually, nodding her head in the general direction of a mound of coats piled in a heap towards the rear of the hall. Fiona was presumably engaged there in some form of ‘heavy petting’ as they call it, with this previously referred to ‘jerk’.

 

“And if I’m not mistaken also,” Ann continued cheekily, “I don’t believe that the muscles in his arse have reverted yet to those that one might medically term as, oh how do I put this? Oh yes. Involuntary!’

 

Bloody hell. Would she ever let this shit go?’ Figuratively speaking of course.

 

“Ahh relax, ye prick”, she said, admonishing my consternation with a stern look of contempt. She grabbed me by the hand then and whispered ‘Let’s dance’ hurriedly into my ear, before pulling me out into the middle of the dance floor to the unmistakeable acoustic guitar sound beginnings of ‘Stairway to Heaven’ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CPSkNFODVRE. The floor cleared as always, with ten or so couples left only to consider the negotiation of their next moves. This might increase to fifteen or sixteen couples or thereabouts soon enough, as young bucks about the place conjured up mettle. Afterwards of course, the only problem would be exactly what you were supposed to do as soon as the fast bit started. “Freebird” was the same. And “Still In Love With You’. Nightmare!

 

For Ann and I however it was effortless. We clicked. Our conversation meandered this way and that and time was apparently stood still. Music, studies, family, incontinence - yes, she came back to it AGAIN - for fuck sake! Then music again, movies, dreams for the future and then inexorably, where we might be going afterwards. So just as things seemed to be on the verge of taking a more romantic diversion, Jimmy Page and John Bonham broke into the pumped up, rhythm section chords that signalled the start of the wondrous finale to the eponymous number. Neither of us paid much heed to it however, being very much engulfed in our own little world at the time. Hairy, combat-jacketed, ape-like creatures populated our environs once again, but we rotated aimlessly nonetheless. ‘Black Betty’ next however https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZbjyuDYtAtk, accelerated a really quite unacceptable period of jostling, so we were reluctantly consigned to give our romantic clutching up as a lost cause and retreat to the safety of the side. We threw some jackets to the floor next to where we were standing and purloined the two seats that were now ‘available’. And then just as we were about to get down to it, Fiona returned with the hairy jerk from the coats mound down the back.

 

Honestly, I really do think sometimes that God gets a total kick out of taking the complete and utter fucking piss! So following on from that unbelievably badly timed interruption, and as if things hadn’t turned badly enough for me already, Marcus arrived back with the drinks, with Stretch and JR in tow also. After which I got to thinking that I’d possibly die an old man before I tasted the forbidden fruits that seemed perpetually within reach, yet in reality still many, MANY thousands of miles away.

 

“Wehay, ye good thing Johnny boy!” was the general order of the day.

 

And…

 

”Finally popping the cherry Johnny wha? Go on ye lad ye!!”

 

And…

 

“I wouldn’t be expecting anything overly lengthy sweetheart. From either a size or duration perspective!”

 

And so it went that along with this distasteful heckling from my so called ‘friends’ our moment for love dissipated insipidly. Like a second rate firework across a Halloween sky.

 

Ann made her excuses and informed me icily that she’d smell me later. Almost as quickly as she’d arrived so she was gone. The two of them headed off in the general direction of the courtyard, leaving both the gormless looking hairy bastard from the coats and I looking as nonplussed as each other.

 

For fuck sake.

 

My ‘friends’ offered up combined and unsympathetic shrugs of ‘whatever’ before moving on swiftly to the next thing. As they do.

 

“Fuck me!” Stretch blurted out, moving on swiftly to the next thing.

 

“It kicked off something fierce after you left dude. That northern fucker, Higgins is it? Well it turns out he’s some sort of maniac anyways and ended up kicking the shit out of everyone, including the creamers AND your brick shit house mate that does the door. And THEN when all the creamers fucked off to lick their wounds, the bouncer did the decent thing and actually let him stay. And guess what, he only went on to take the cash off that young lad Stretch knows from Ranelagh! He got it back to all square first with a doubles or quits in the first frame and then took a fifty off him in the next before hitting the road! I’m not joking, it looked like there was fuck all on man, I’m tellin’ ya, but he took this double on up and down the table through an absolute fucking rake of balls. No-one else could have picked it out in a month of Sundays pal and he was fucking palatic as well! So yeah, anyway, what was I saying? Oh yeah, the last anyone heard of him he was on his way to The Oval in Abbey Street for another skin-full. A legend man, I’m serious, a total fucking legend!”

 

“ENOUGH!” I screamed abruptly, in end of the tether exasperation. “E-FUCKING-NOUGH!”

 

The chickens had finally come home to roost. A Eureka moment again if you like. These ongoing problems weren’t anything to do with me. It was them. All of them! It was so obvious to me now, once I’d taken a step back from it all and saw it for what it was. My ridiculous companions. On practically every occasion I’d found myself in a position where carnal delights might finally be lavished upon me by the fairer sex, it was almost always one of these bastards that conspired to fuck it up. The clarity of the situation was suddenly there before me and a blinding and searing revelation it was too. I mused back over recent events and it suddenly began to make sense.

 

Who was it that had introduced me to the celestial anomaly at the school disco? Prior to the surface of my face erupting that is? JR, that’s who.

 

And who was it that singlehandedly ruined my best chance yet of breaking my carnal duck in the dunes of Dollymount? Jason. Formerly FuckFuck.

 

And while cider and other perfectly reasonable alcoholic beverages would almost certainly have been more than adequate and sufficient for the events in hand, who was it that suggested we purchase dodgy weed from that random North African lunatic in Molloy’s before the Bowie concert in Slane? Leading to my infamous ‘pants’ faux pas in Bad Bob’s later that evening? Marcus of course. And what about his snake of a brother as well, who’d pillaged our tickets and wedge beforehand?

 

Last but not least who was it that insisted we sit down next to the creamers in the International, mere moments before I was set to get down and dirty with that Geordie tart in the jacks? That lanky can of piss Stretch of course.

 

So when it came down to it and you assessed every situation on its merits for what it actually was, my less than profitable return in the classification was in actual fact a product of my so called ‘friends’ consistent meddling and interference. I really was better off on my own.

 

“I’m better off on my own, you fucking halfwits!” I ranted, after which I flew out the door in search of Ann. I reckoned that if I fought for her and showed even the tiniest degree of backbone, that there might still be an outside chance that this present debacle might in some way be redeemed. I was seemingly too late however, as out of the corner of my eye I noticed both Ann and Fiona with their coats already donned, walking towards the exit. I thankfully caught up with them though just before they made it out the door and breathlessly begged Ann to stay.

 

“Please Ann, I’m sorry,” I said, with my hands on hips and lungs clutching for air as I stooped over a radiator next to the door. So not that good a look really if I’m honest. “It’s just my idiot friends” I continued. “Seriously, I’m not like them at all. They’re fucking halfwits! Total empty heads!”

 

My last remark brought a semi smile to her face I fancied, but she turned to go all the same. Then she stopped as if having a rethink perhaps, before spinning around to speak to me once again.

 

“Alright then,” she resumed with her customary confidence. ” We ARE going now… but I’ll meet you tomorrow OK? Come over to my house at 3pm. 101 Carndonagh Crescent. Donaghmede. You know it right? Well whatever, I’m sure you’ll find it. My parents will be out for the day so we can talk then.”

 

‘What a result!’ I was thinking to myself excitedly, with the pursuance of nonchalance on my exterior dismally failing to conceal my inner elation. So this gallantry thingamajig does work! Perhaps the tables were finally turning in my favour?

 

Would there be a successful culmination tomorrow? And talk. What did she mean by that? Talk. I deliberated on this further and came to the conclusion that ‘talk’ was probably the furthest thing from her mind. Which may of course leading on from that have been more to do with my own one-dimensional and fervently sex fuelled imagination, than anything else that she may or may not have been inferring at the time. It was a date though either way, so the potential for fun and games of a carnal variety was certainly there.

 

“And it’s my birthday tomorrow also,” she chuckled vivaciously as she strolled away. “So bring me something nice!”

 

‘Something nice’ I thought perplexedly. Now there’s a conundrum. I’d have to give the matter careful consideration.

 

“A pony,” she said, as an afterthought I think. Laughing to herself as she got further away. “I’ve always wanted a pony. Bring me a pony!”

 

And then off into the night she dissolved like an ethereal vision of angelic pulchritude.

Chapter 17 - Bring Out the MILF

 

A pony indeed. She’d be fucking lucky. But a horse? Perhaps. A kernel of an idea was forming. A serious long shot though. 80/20 against at best.

 

As I contemplated the outline of Ann disappearing into the distance I resolved to keep my rendezvous with Paudge on the morrow; just in case you know, miracle of miracles, he might actually show up and do the honourable thing.

 

I decided to head off not long after she’d left also, but only after I’d made peace with the lads and apologised to them for being such a twat. It’s true to say that they were definitely at fault to some degree for my overall failings with the ladies, but the bitter truth (much as it pains me to admit it) was that it was very much down to my own actions also. I couldn’t blindly apportion blame to the lads alone, and when all is said and done and at the end of the day and all that, I am my own man and make my own decisions. I did agree don't forget to meet that Orca girl at JR’s request and in deference to the big man at the time, he was only trying to do me a favour. And Marcus didn’t exactly shove that dodgy weed down my throat either, did he? The ‘Jayo’ situation was pretty unavoidable as well, I mean fair’s fair it was an ‘affliction’ after all. Stretch was only trying to do the right thing also and had merely introduced me to a guy from whom he thought I might want to buy a car. I was in the market for one at the time after all, so how was he to know that Paudge was a raving lunatic? So even though things overall hadn’t panned out exactly as I’d have liked, it certainly wasn’t completely down to the actions of my friends. There was definite culpability on my side also.

 

Before I left I put the idea of the horse to Marcus; that is my decision to perhaps go ahead with this meeting in Finglas with Paudge the following day. To say that his reaction to the proposed convocation was in the positive would I have to say, be a considerable distortion of its veracity.

 

“YOU FUCKING WHAT?” he exploded, with a look of incredulity emblazoned across his open jawed face. “Are you on something dude? If you seriously think that this madman is going to turn up tomorrow with a fucking horse after you’ve basically rubbed his nose in it in front of his pals then you’re a whole lot crazier than even he is. Listen to me now OK? Here’s the situation as it is. A reality check, Freakers. At this precise moment in time the nutjob in question is probably doing everything in his power to allay the mutiny that he knows must follow. The mutiny emanating from the now apparent fact that he isn’t all that he says he is. The spell has been broken my friend, trust me. He’s lost the dressing room. The chain of command has been shattered irrevocably and by this time tomorrow he’ll be a persona non gratis within the group. The administering of goods and indeed horses to random members of the public will soon be considerably above his pay scale. Tomorrow he will have been acrimoniously demoted to the back benches, to the extent I would say even that whenever he feels confident enough to raise his hand again and proffer a suggestion on any subject at all to his associates, that he’ll be shot down decisively and unequivocally and told basically in no uncertain terms to shut the fuck up. Come on dude, you cleaned the fucking floor with him! Don’t you recall? And then that skinny Higgins snooker bloke kicked the shit out of him as well? So not a great night for him all round I’d say and absolutely no way back into the group from there, that’s a given. The fucker is out. C’mon man, you saw how they were?! Putting it nicely? Feral. At best.”

 

“And another thing also” he continued, even more demonstratively than before. “Might I remind you of the fact that you were fortunate enough to have escaped with your life? Has this glaringly obvious point escaped your attention all of a sudden? Do you not remember fearing for your very existence just before you redeemed yourself with the win in the last frame? Following on from that so, why on earth would you want to put yourself in a situation like that again? Why the ridiculous desire to cross paths with this psychotic leviathan on more than one occasion in your lifetime?”

 

He had a point. Why indeed? Paudge, putting it mildly, was hard work. After careful consideration though and after taking on board all that Marcus had said, I decided that it was probably worth a shot. He wasn’t too happy about it of course, but after a hissy fit or two and much indignant argument, he finally agreed to accompany me on the morrow for moral support. Good old Marcus. You can always count on him in a time of crisis. The meeting point was in a public place also so even if things did start to go tits up at any stage in the proceedings, we could always turn on our heels and make a run for it if necessary. If everything went according to plan however, I could very possibly afterwards be in a position to provide Ann with a birthday present to beat all birthday presents; and following on from that who knew what subsequent gifts she might bestow upon me by way of appreciation for his humungous generosity and gallantry?

 

I arranged to meet Marcus at the 17A bus terminus behind the Denis Mahony garage