2
hours and 10 pints later he was not so understanding. As he said to the drunken
fool on the next bar stool, he had given Bill everything he had. Not everything
that he had but everything that Bill had. Was’nt it him
who sorted out Rosey when Bill couldn’t perform?
Didn’t he, Hank, show the boy blunder the way to
survive in the high octane and stressful A/E environment? Was it not Hank who
introduced the young innocent to some of his best friends; Arthur Guinness,
Jack Daniels and all the rest of them? Christ but as the drunk said, Bill was
an ungrateful bastard and he needed to be taught a lesson, to be brought back
into the fold and shown the true path. What sort of matelot was he anyway? The
bastard was a disgrace to the uniform and yes, he needed to be brought back
down to earth and the sooner the better. There is no time like the present is
there. Off Hank went to the Temple
of Holy
It
was a ticket only affair. Well it had to be really didn’t
it? The temple itself was an imposing edifice, the frontage covering half a street
and illuminated by multiple halogen halo’s. Just
standing outside was enough to make Hank think twice about his plan of action.
Obviously he was set in his principles
but the effect of the Gothic monstrosity was causing a revision of plans that
was not helped by 10 pints of Guinness. The time was 18:30 , Bill was due to appear at 20:30 so time was of the essence.
The
spotlight came on and picked him out at the back of the conference hall whilst
the music slowly built to a crescendo; onwards Christian soldiers came the
chant from the auditorium as surrounded by Baptist ministers Bill was led to
the altar amidst rapturous applause. A sense of serenity had overcome him 15
minutes earlier and it was with a sense of great calm and purpose that he
approached the richly carved marble homage to heaven before him. As he took his
place behind the solid yet melancholy table all sounds slowly dissipated to
leave an awed hush. From the muted public address system came the baritone
voice of the chief pastor and the introduction began.
“Brethren, we have among us today a local hero. Many
of you will have read of his heroic exploits in the local and national press
and so will know what sacrifice he has had to make in the face of great
adversity and the demon drink. From within the ranks of a drunken and
subversive sub society he has been a beacon to all in the past few months and
has kindly agreed to pass on his pain, suffering and knowledge to us so that we
can carry the fight against liquor to a new and unprecedented level. Gentlemen
I present with great reverence, esteem and love the man who can change our
city; Petty Officer Bill Mason, scourge of the sinful masses.”
“My dear brothers, I stand here before you not as a
saviour nor prophet nor priest; but as a simple messenger who has descended
into the abyss and partied with Satan himself and indeed taught him a few new
tricks. But I have learnt, I have learnt on the dark and painful road upon
which I have travelled and it is these lessons that I hope to impart to you so
as you can learn from my sins.” Bill then paused and slowly turned to his
audience, eyeing each in turn his gaze finally coming to rest on a familiar
figure in the back row. Horror coursed through his veins, sweat began to drip
from his head onto the altar, his pulse quickened and a feeling of dread
erupted from the pit of his stomach and exited from his mouth in the form of
copious amounts of putrid vomit. The audience was aghast and could only sit in
muted shock as Bill started to shake uncontrollably losing control of his
bowels, adding to the already foul stench permeating the auditorium. He could
only just stand there staring at Hanks smug face dreading what might be in
store for him. It was at this point that Hank slowly rose from his seat and walked
purposefully to the exit and left.
“You cunt, you fat Irish miserable wanker. How the
fuck could you do it to me. You fucking knew that I wanted that gig and you
deliberately ruined it for me. You are an absolute shit.”
“Calm down fella. I just came to hear your speech. We
are mates after all. I just came along to offer moral support. The thing is you
lost it. I done fuck all, if you remember correctly I left after you shit
yourself; I sat silently doing nothing.”
“Don’t give me that crap, you knew exactly what
you were doing.”
“Look lets let bygones be bygones, its your round so
we’ll
just toast the coming years and plan for the future.”
The
night then began to take on a familiar theme. Drinks came and went and
drunkenness soon descended. All problems were forgotten and new plans made.
Both were anxious about their career paths. After such a high it would be hard
to impress the hierarchy and something would have to be planned, sleeping would
not cover it this time. At this point Hank dropped his bombshell.
“I am going to apply for a commission mate, if I pass
the selection board then I can hopefully choose where I go and what I do. The
thing is I am going to have to get a couple of deployments under my belt so
that I can sell myself as a useful asset.”
Bill
was stunned. How the fuck could Hank ever imagine that the QARNNS would allow
him to become an officer. Everyone knew exactly what he was like. Yes he was a
good nurse, actually hard as it was to believe his mate was an excellent A/E
nurse but that wasn’t enough. To become an officer he would have
to demonstrate the necessary qualities; integrity, loyalty, honesty and
leadership to name but a few. Well it was best to humour him so he played
along.
“Good idea fella. As for the deployments are you sure
you could handle the lack of alcohol for months at a time? And the lack of
skirt? And the easy life that you have become used to?
“That’s just a few bridges that I will have to
cross when I come to them, but at least I have a plan.”
This
made Bill quite happy if the truth be told. With his mate out of the way he
could concentrate on his other activities, earn some extra cash and get closer
to Rosie. As he contemplated his good fortune Hank had another surprise for
him. He had been accepted to appear on Countdown the popular channel four quiz
program and would be appearing the following week. Bill considered his oppo to
have a fairly good grasp of the English language and could be quite eloquent
when the occasion called but as to appearing on national TV? That had to be a
mistake.
Undeterred
Hank threw himself into preparations with his usual vigour. The quiz machine in
the Stoke made an absolute fortune that week. In no time at all he was on his
way to the studio and feeling ever so slightly nervous. On arrival he was shown
to the hospitality room and told to make himself comfortable as it would be
some time before he was due to appear. Opening a bottle of wine he sat in a
comfy armchair and engaged his fellow contestants in conversation….for about
five minutes. Christ they were all a bunch of boring, middle class, middle aged
boring librarian types with no sense of humour as evidenced by their response
to his joke about the two nuns and a pogo stick. With nothing else to do he
settled down and drank whatever he could to calm his nerves. The others got so
concerned about his drinking that they called the producer in to express their
concerns. On entering the producer was surprised to see the space in front of Hank
completely covered with empties, he himself however seemed absolutely fine, no
slurring of words and no unsteadiness in his gait. Thus reassured he determined
to allow him to appear, a decision he would come to regret as he stood in the
dole queue a week later.
Hank
strode to his chair and sat down, arranged the notepaper and pens before him
and waited for the show to start. A minute later a grey haired middle aged man
approached and coughed loudly.
“You appear to be in my chair, would you mind moving
please?”
At
this Hank began to wave his arms vigorously in the air for a few moments and
then sat still. “Is that OK ?“he asked innocently.
“Sorry I don’t follow” came the reply.
“Always best that, be your own man.”
“What? Look you are in my seat and I have already
asked you to move.”
“And I did.”
“No you did not so if you don’t mind?”
“Yes I did, you asked me to move and I waved my arms
about a bit, if that’s not moving then I don’t
know what is. Listen mate if your grasp of the English language is that poor
then I don’t give much for your chances in this game.”
“What? Are you a total idiot? I am the presenter and
you are in my chair and the show cannot take place with you sitting in it.”
“Bollocks. No way are you Richard Whitely. I am not a
fool you know. For a start Whitely wears crap ties and is a bit of a chubby
git, so stop taking the piss like a good man and be on your way.”
Des
Lynam called the floor manager and asked for Hank to be removed. She approached
gingerly and squatted down in front of him.
“Hank, Richard died 2 months ago and Des Lynam has taken
over the role. Would you mind taking one of the contestants seats.? We really
don’t
have much time, this is a special show, we are dedicating it to Richard and it
is going out live. We really would appreciate your cooperation but if its not
forthcoming then we will have to ask you to leave.”
“I am terribly sorry, I really didn’t know, of
course I will move, where do you want me to sit?”
“Just in that left hand seat if you would.”
“Sure, and one other thing, I don’t suppose
you fancy going for a drink after the show?”
“We’ll see, now come on there’s
not much time left.”
As
he took up his seat Hank watched the hive activity before him. He had never been to a television studio
before and was amazed at the amount of shouting and panic amongst the headset wearing
production team. Wouldn’t
get this on board, thought Hank. Despite
having only two days sea time in his ten year career it was most than the rest
of the nurses in the fleet. He looked
over towards the guest presenter and wondered who the hell he was. He hoped to god he wouldn’t
be the usual Z list bunch of cheeses who have ‘hilarious
poems’ at the commercial. Speaking of which he needed a break right
now, the hospitality suite had been very accommodating and now his bladder was
full, but everyone seemed to be so busy he didn’t want to
take up their time. He looked at the
board to a familiar face standing there, stifling a yawn.
“Hey Carol, Carol!” He slurred, “which way to the
heads shipmate? The heads? I’m busting for a swamp.”
Carol
Vordeman looked at the swaying body of Hank at the contestant desk. They should have chosen appropriately for
this special episode, she thought, why does every fucker on this show think
they know me? She pretended not to hear
him, but Hank as always was persistent.
“Oi Cazzer, stop thinking about your cholesterol a
minute and point us the way of the head”
“I’m sorry”
She replied, “I don’t know anything
about head.”
“well meet us around the back during the break and I’ll show
you” Hank doubled up at his hilarity and
then realised the studio was quiet and everyone was looking at him mouths
open. Stuck up cunts he thought.
“These bastards are easily shocked, you reckon?” He turned to his fellow contestant for the
first time. It was Hanks turn to be shocked. Next to him was an eight year old boy with
thick glasses and bucked teeth. Fuck he
thought, what age did I put down on the application form? His scrawny young
adversary attempted a smile, which brought on a mild asthma wheeze causing him
to reach for his inhaler.
“Jeez the playground must be a fucking nightmare for
you me old shipmate”
The
studio lights dimmed and a voice on the PA system announced they would be live
in five, four three. This is it thought Hank. Time to run rings around Adrian
Then
a dull sound began over the
microphones, it sounded like a grunt
then went into a long exasperated sigh.
“Camera three zoom in on contestant Kelly. What is he doing? Can you hear running water? “ Hank was seen putting his water jug on the
desk, it had a yellow tinge to it and the entire nation heard his flies being
pulled up.
Des
finished his preamble and the production crew were on tenterhooks. This guy was
supposed to be some sort of hero but there was certainly nothing heroic about
his performance so far. At least the game was about to begin and surely he
could do nothing wrong then? At least they had the Arch Bishop of Canterbury as
the special guest, he would be able to entertain everyone with his witty anecdotes.
So it was time for the first round.
“Hank would you like to choose your letters please?”
“OK shippers. Can I have a consonant Carol.”
“R”
“And another”
“S”
“And one more”
“B”
“A vowel”
“A”
“Another”
“I”
“Consonant”
“P”
“Vowel”
“A”
“Consonant”
“T”
“And a final .. Consonant please”
“F”
The
clock started counting down, Adrian Mole was scribbling furiously and it was
putting Hank off. He found it very difficult to concentrate and before he knew
it time was up. His fellow contestant was asked how many letters and to Hanks
surprise had a seven letter word. Des then asked him how many he had.
“Ummm, 8 “said Hank but I haven’t wrote it
down.
The
young Mole look-alike then announced his word, something that Hank had never
heard of and was sure could not be a word at all and instantly regretted
announcing 8 letters as five would obviously have won.
“And your eight letters Hank?” asked Des.
“Well.. Its BAPFARTS” said Hank.
“We will have to check that one” said the Arch Bishop to Suzy. “What do you
think it means Hank?”
“Well it’s a word….that Naval chefs use….when
they are serving dinner… and there are bread rolls on the menu which have the
unfortunate effect of causing excess gas because they have been frozen so
making those that eat him expostulate anally”.
The
Arch Bishop turned to Suzy Dench and
addressed her with a raising of his left eyebrow:
“Well Suzy, what says the dictionary?”
“Well, there is no reference to bapfarts in the
dictionary so I am afraid that we have to disallow that one”.
“Bollocks” said Hank in what he thought was a whisper.
Young Adrian was seven nil up and it felt bad. The camera panned to Des and as
he spoke a terrible squeal erupted off shot. As the camera panned back to the
contestants one of the seats was empty. Hank
was sitting looking straight into the lens waiting for the next round but Adrian
But
the young child climbed back to his seat, much to Hank’s
dismay and soldiered on. He was used to
being bullied, hit and ganged up on at school and knew it was useless
snitching. He picked his 9 letters and
left Hank standing. His 6 letter word
leaving Hank struggling with a mere two letter word.
Then
it was Hanks turn.
“can I have a
consonant please carol?”
W
A
vowel please
A
“Can I have a consonant again please?”
N
“Oh yes. Can I
have another consonant please?” Said Hank
reaching over to the water jug.
R
“”Bugger” Hank
looked at the Jug and it’s yellow contents and then looked at his
fellow contestants clear vessel.. He
called his next remaining letters.
E
K T T I. The director looked at the
possibilities of the round as the clock ticked and the familiar tune played it’s
final note.
“We need a commercial now!” He screamed at the assistant, knowing it
wasn’t
possible. He Heard des ask for the
results.
“Six.” Said Hank.
“Fuck said the director. He looked at the young child, hoping he could
come up with some amazing nine letter word that would detract from the
obvious television hand grenade they had
as a contestant. But the young child was
not speaking. He was pouring a glass of
water from his jug, obviously thirsty and with a dry mouth from nerves. But his jug did not look right. It was not clear. He looked at Hank sipping a glass of
translucent water, then looked back at the young boy swig down a mouthful of
dark yellow liquid..
“Oh my fucking good God in heaven” exclaimed the
archbishop as the young contestant emptied his stomach contents all over the
desk and began to call pitifully for his mother. Carol ran over to help the
youngster but just stood in front of him retching uncontrollably, the stench
was something that she had never experienced before. Hank was wetting himself
with laughter whilst Des just looked on aghast as the child’s mum
sprang from her seat in the audience and attacked Hank with a vigour
unbelievable in a woman of 62. Meanwhile the director was in a state of panic
and the program was taken off air. Things in the studio had taken a turn for
the worse; fed up with the pensioner Hank delivered a deft upper cut and layed
her out cold. Security were approaching him and he searched around for some form
of defence. He quickly sprang across the table and grabbed the archbishop by
the neck threatening to murder him if the security guards came any closer. Des
had by this stage ran off whilst Carol was on her knees vomiting air as she had
already puked up all her Benecol. The police soon arrived and order was
restored with the main protagonist being led off to the cells.
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