Elvis The Sani Man

by Ian Todd

  “Ah’m mair a Marty Wilde kind ae gal, masel,” she’d flirtingly said tae him, twenty-two seconds in tae his first attempt at being interviewed fur the Senior Sanitation Officer’s post fur North Glesga. “Teenager in Love, Rubber Baw and aw that,” she’d sighed, sitting there, aw decked oot, looking as if she wis attending a fancy dress party as a bottle ae Ribena.

  “Personally, masel, Ah thought the original version by Bobby Vee wis jist that wee bit better though,” he’d innocently come oot wae, trying tae be friendly, contradicting her obviously superior knowledge ae Rock’n’Roll music.

  “In your opinion,” Mrs Purple Rock and Roll hid came back wae, as the temperature in the room suddenly drapped below freezing.

  “Er, sorry?” he’d asked, furgetting everywan’s warnings tae him no tae bite, whitever she said during the interview.

  “Ye heard me the first time…Roy.”

  “Oh, er, right,” he remembered replying, wondering whether tae jist excuse himsel there and then and heid doon oan tae George Square fur his bus hame or tae hing oan and wait tae be telt tae fuck aff by Her Purple Majesty in person.

  “So, Mr Orbison, thanks for coming back fur mair…a second time, as well…and oan time tae,” she’d come oot wae at his second interview, sounding surprised, looking at the glutton fur punishment sitting there in front ae her, trying tae appear inoffensive in his toned-doon clobber.

  He thought she’d sounded a lot less aggressive and manic that second time, sitting oan the other side ae the desk, eyeing him up every noo and again, as she slowly read o’er his application form. It hid been the third time the job hid been advertised due tae the previous two successful candidates that hid been offered the job, hivving phoned back later oan, efter gieing themsels time tae reflect oan the consequences ae accepting the job. He could understaun that. It hid been the first time he’d ever been offered a job where he hidnae gone oot wae Pricilla and celebrated.

  He smiled tae himsel, as a few ae the serene wans in front ae him stood up and floated oot in tae the corridor. He knew fine well that The Purple Persuader hated the way he dressed and looked. She’d been deliberately trying tae noise him up, sitting up there in the Gods in that big swanky office ae hers, forty five minutes earlier. His poor boss, Tam Watson, hid been sitting tae her left, a deadpan expression plastered across that coupon ae his. It wis difficult no tae feel a wee bit sorry fur him, despite his ain precarious predicament. Other than his two job interviews, the last time he’d been sitting there uncomfortably up in that office ae hers, being telt how tae dae his job right, she’d caught Tam making cut-throat sawing motions across his Adam’s apple wae his finger, behind her back. Unknown tae Tam or him, she’d strategically placed a wee roond shaving mirror up oan tap ae wan ae her filing cabinets and hid been sitting there watching him mouthing tae Elvis that as she wis in a particularly worse foul mood than usual, he wis tae watch they Ps and Qs ae his. Before he could acknowledge that he’d received the message loud and clear, him and that boss ae his hid been swiftly ejected fae her office, wae their ears hauf melted and telt no tae darken her door ever again. She’d been known tae scoot alang tae Hope Street, tae the offices ae The Glesga Echo, complaining aboot the lack ae respect by male Corporation managers towards poor wee female elected members. Efter capturing Tam making cut-throat gestures behind her back, she’d then gone aff tae the heid ae personnel demanding that Elvis and that cheeky basturt ae a boss ae his get their jotters that very day, even though Elvis hidnae opened his gub in the entire time he’d been sitting in her office. A compromise hid eventually been reached that hid resulted in Tam humphing a cardboard egg box ae his files oot tae the wee rusty green and yellow Corporation van oan George Street, idling away at the side ae the pavement waiting fur him. It wis there tae whisk him oot tae wan ae the wee local Corporation offices somewhere in Nitshill, south ae the Clyde, that could’ve been mistaken by a lost tourist as the entrance tae a Russian Gulag prison camp.

  “Ye wanted tae speak tae me, Cooncillor?” he’d enquired deferentially, no sure whether tae bow, quickly looking aboot tae make sure there wisnae any wee cheeky booby traps, like strategically placed roond shaving mirrors, sitting like man-traps atop her cabinets and book shelves.

  His boss, Tam, wis awready sitting there, totally immobile, like some frozen wally-dug, as he entered, this time slightly in front ae her, where she could obviously keep her eye oan him.

  “Why are ma constituents still continually being poisoned by that big brute ae a man, Black Pat McVeigh, Mr Orbison?” she’d demanded tae know.

  “Aye, well, good question, Ms Alla…”

  “Don’t bloody well patronise me, sir!” she’d snapped at him, no messing aboot. “Mr Watson here demanded mair resources a few months back and eventually goat them…and mair. So, Ah’ll ask ye again. Why is that Black Pat McVeigh wan still swanning aboot the streets, punting rotten meat in broad daylight, withoot fear ae retribution and justice?”

  “Aye, well, ye see…”

  “Mr Watson?” she’d snarled, deciding tae ignore Elvis, before he could come oot and contradict himsel wae some useless excuse.

  “Er, Ah think whit Mr Presley is trying tae say here, cooncillor, is that we’re daeing oor best and hiv hid some major successes o’er the past few months, which ye’ll awready be aware ae.”

  “The reason fur the major successes, Mr Watson, is because the polis hiv uncovered black meat factories scattered aboot, operating under everywan’s noses, while turning the city upside doon, trying tae find that sports car belonging tae this Silver Arrow wan,” she’d retorted, glaring fae wan tae the other.

  “True…” Elvis hid jist started tae come oot wae when she’d let rip again.

  He couldnae remember everything she’d spewed forth wae, other than tae remind them that she’d promised the good people ae Springburn and Possilpark that the meat they’d be buying aff ae the local street traders wid be fit fur human consumption and that wis bloody-well whit they wur gonnae be getting or her name wisnae Barbara Allan.

  “It’s the badges, Cooncillor. Stoap issuing them tae every Tom, Dick and Harry and we’ll soon stoap the Black Butchers, so we will.”

  “Oh Tam, haud yer wheesht, fur Christ’s sake. It’s me ye’re talking tae. Anywan kin forge a plastic badge. It’s the big boys like Black Pat McVeigh we need tae be taking doon.”

  “Bit the sani men like Elvis and his team hiv limited powers oan that score when it comes tae arrest and conviction procedures,” his boss hid replied, ignoring Elvis’s disapproving look at the mis-reference tae his staff’s job title.

  “I’ve hid a meeting,” she’d declared.

  Silence.

  “Er, wae who, Ma’am?” Tam hid finally asked her, efter whit he thought wis a respectful delay.

  Silence.

  “Ye said that ye hid a meeting, Ma’am?” he’d reminded her again.

  “Wae Duggie Dougan and Paddy McPhee,” she’d declared, sounding as if she’d jist sat doon and hid a pleasant wee cup ae tea wae Saint Francis ae Assisi and Jesus F Christ himsel.

  Elvis could’ve sworn that he heard that sphincter muscle ae his twanging like an oot ae tune banjo string.

  “Yes, and very positive and fruitful it wis tae,” she’d beamed, suddenly turning aw friendly. “Baith ae them shared ma concern aboot whit wis gaun oan and offered tae help us, despite their limited resources.”

  “Mr Presley his awready recently met up wae the inspectors in an attempt at jointly spearheiding a campaign against the big boys in your neck ae the woods, cooncillor,” his boss hid reminded her, as Elvis confirmed by shaking that bop ae his.

  “Aye, it took me a wee while tae placate Inspector Dougan’s concern at the impertinence inflicted upon him fae…fae that wan sitting there,” she’d replied, scowling across at Elvis. “It’s reasonable no tae expect oor polis officers tae understaun the basics ae politics…Ah mean, that’s whit us cooncillors ur here fur.”

  “Ah’m sorry?” he’d stupidl
y asked, no being able tae contain himsel.

  “Charging in tae a polis station, upsetting everywan, withoot showing the correct level ae respect, making aw sorts ae demands,” she continued. “It’s a wonder Inspector Dougan didn’t evict ye…or worse, hiv ye arrested oan the spot, Mr Presley.”

  “Bit…”

  “Anyhow, efter Ah somehow managed tae massage they big egos ae the pair ae them and calmed the situation doon, Ah managed tae get them tae agree tae hiv another wee meeting wae Mr Presley here. Noo, it’ll involve a humble apology, in person, bit Ah believe calm will be restored if it comes across as being genuine,” she’d hit them wae. “Unfortunately, Paddy McPhee is oot ae the game until this carry oan wae that young Ned and his notebook is resolved, which is understandable. However, Ah managed tae get Inspector Dougan tae be a bit mair forthcoming, so Ah did.”

  “Really?” his boss hid asked, impressed and no being able tae contain his surprise, as Elvis squirmed in his chair.

  “Aye. Ah’ve arranged a meeting between Mr Presley here and Inspector Dougan fur later oan this morning…at twelve o’clock, up in Possil, tae be precise, so Ah hiv.”

  “Oh, right…er, and the agenda is tae dae whit, Ma’am?”

  “The agenda, Mr Watson, is tae stoap aw ma constituents fae ending up in an early grave, or worse. His job…” she scowled, pointing across tae Elvis, “…is tae get up tae Possilpark Polis Station as fast as they scrawny flashy hips ae his kin carry him and apologise, before Inspector Dougan changes his mind.”

  And that hid been that, he telt himsel miserably, looking at his wristwatch. He’d said that he’d meet Mags at hauf eleven at the George Street entrance, tae take him up tae the station. She’d sit ootside, guarding the wheels and silver metal-wear oan the vehicle, while he worked oot a way ae escaping fae the place wae they swinging ging-gang-goolies ae his still intact.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The three ae them sat and watched the duck come in tae land, as it followed the contours ae the canal oot ae the bend, a determined look ae concentration oan its face, before bringing up its undercarriage as it drapped doon, skimming the surface ae the water and scattering a group ae its buddies, before applying its flapping wings tae bring it tae a comfortable halt.

  “Imagine? Ducks in the middle ae the toon?” Wan-bob Broon said, looking aboot.

  “They wur oan the go when we wur snappers…up at The Nolly,” Charlie Hastie reminded him.

  “Ducks? Yer arse says there wur ducks up at The Nolly. Ah remember swans and doos, bit no ducks.”

  “Ah’m telling ye. Alexandra Park wis full ae the basturts.”

  “Well, there wisnae any up at The Nolly in The Toonheid. Christ, they widnae hiv lasted ten minutes before some ae they wild wummin wid’ve hid her man oot there plucking fuck oot ae the poor basturts before they could quack.”

  “Ah’ve never tasted duck. Ah wis always gonnae send oot fur some Bombay Duck fae that wee Chinky shoap doon oan the corner, bit always settled fur an Indian insteid,” Peter The Plant mused tae himsel.

  “Is he fucking serious or whit?” Charlie scoffed, as baith him and Wan-bob burst oot laughing.

  “Whit?”

  “Bombay Duck is a bit ae dried fish that smells like they bloody feet ae yours when ye take yer shoes aff, ya numpty, ye,” Charlie informed him.

  “Is it fuck.”

  “Peter, don’t go there. Jist accept that as fact,” Wan-bob advised.

  “Fact?”

  “Nothing. So, whit hiv ye goat fur us?” Charlie asked him, as a squad ae Partick Thistle players jogged past them oan the cinder path, being telt tae keep thegither by the trainer bringing up the rear, as Peter The Plant stood up fae the bench and turned and faced them.

  “Blind Bill is bloody-well raging wae that pair ae basturts, The Gruesome Twosome.”

  “And?”

  “And he’s wondering whit we’re gonnae be daeing aboot it.”

  “Us?”

  “Aye, that’s whit Ah said. He wanted tae know why the fuck he’d been paying up-front every week since Tam Simpson’s demise if we’re no gonnae be daeing anything aboot it.”

  “Oh, he dis, dis he?” Charlie snarled.

  “He’s goat a point if ye think aboot it, Charlie,” Wan-bob acknowledged, getting in there before The Plant could reply.

  “Ah telt the blind basturt that he wisnae paying us protection money. If he wis, he wid’ve been paying a lot mair than the few coppers he wis haunin o’er currently,” Peter said, as they aw burst oot laughing. ‘A hunner quid a week is a lot ae coppers tae somewan like me,’ the blind basturt hid bleated. ‘Things are a lot tighter these days than they used tae be.’”

  “So, how did ye leave it, Peter?” Wan-bob asked him, as a V formation, led by the recently landed pilot, floated towards where they wur sitting.

  “Ah telt him that Ah’d speak tae you or Charlie.”

  “How much wis Dougan demanding aff ae him?”

  “The same as Black Pat…a hunner a week until further notice.”

  Silence.

  “And Dougan didnae tell him the reason?”

  “Only that his overheids hid suddenly gone up. He said that the next time The Gruesome Twosome lifted him, it widnae be fur vagrancy.”

  “Whit dae ye think, Charlie?” Wan-bob asked his right-haun man.

  “Ah think we’ll hiv tae get Dave McGovern in, tae hiv a wee quiet confab. Ah don’t feel comfortable wae a bloody bizzy, even if he is an inspector, putting the squeeze oan oor business associates…it’s a wee bit like gamekeeper turning poacher, so it is.”

  “Between Blind Bill and Black Pat, that’s two hunner a week. That’s a lot ae dosh. Why the fuck wid somewan like him be needing that kind ae money aw ae a sudden?”

  “Oh, here’s a good wan that youse’ll like. Blind Bill wanted tae know if we’d slacken aff a wee bit until this carry-oan blew o’er,” Peter informed them, smiling, as the fitba players ran past them, oan the other side ae the canal this time, heiding in the opposite direction tae before.

  “Bunch up noo, lads,” the wee trainer reminded them above the patter ae feet oan the cinder.

  “Oh, he did, did he? Ah hope ye told that grippy basturt that if that money isnae there oan time next week, then he’ll hiv mair than two dud eyeballs tae contend wae,” Wan-bob growled, as the other two laughed.

  “Aye, don’t worry, he wis well warned, so he wis. Bit…”

  “Whit?”

  “Whit ur we gonnae dae aboot Dougan? If it gets oot that some fucking bizzy is putting the squeeze oan somewan like us, then everywan will start trying tae shake us doon, so they will.”

  “Ye don’t think The McGregors ur fannying aboot in there somewhere, Charlie?” Wan-bob asked, ignoring the question.

  “Ah’d doubt it.

  “Right, Peter, get a haud ae Dave McGovern. Tell him Ah want tae see him at eleven o’clock oan Thursday night.”

  “Whereaboots?”

  “Greasy Jake’s.”

  “There’s nae way ye’ll get him tae turn up at Greasy Jake’s at that time ae the night…at least, no oan his lonesome. He’ll think he’s getting crushed,” The Plant replied.

  “Okay, the Museum ae Transport…same time. Will you be able tae get us access wae a key, Charlie?”

  “Aye, we kin get in the side door oan Bunhoose Road.”

  “And another thing, Peter. Mind and don’t spook the basturt,” Wan-bob warned him, bending o’er and picking up the broon paper bag sitting at his feet and taking oot a stale crust.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Ah, Mr Presley…Elvis, come in, come in. Take the weight aff ae they blue suede shoes ae yers and grab yersel a seat, son,” The Inspector gruffly beamed, looking up, as the sergeant wae the red hair disappeared.

  They wur in a different office tae the last wan he’d fled oot ae. This wan wis much bigger and wis dominated by a large roond table, sitting squat in the middle ae it, surrounded by hauf a dozen empty chairs. He wondered whet
her tae launch in tae the apology that he’d been rehearsing oan the way up fae the toon centre, bit decided tae jist hing oan. There wisnae any hurry tae get it o’er and done wae, seeing as he’d been pleasantly surprised tae discover that it wis jist him and The Inspector sitting there, facing each other.