“And you never knew
How much I really liked you
Because I never even told you
Oh and I meant to…”
- The Smiths.
Aye yer right pal, getting
dumped eftir goin oot wi a lassie fir five years is a fuckin sair yin right
enough. Gettin the bullet oor the phone, tae; fuck that fir a game ay sodjers.
Jist get anither beer ben ye n try n firget aboot it the night. Ah ken whit
it’s like tae get dumped by a lassie yer right intae myself. Iviry man dis. Kin
tear the fuckin guts right ootay ye n nae mistake.
Emotion’s a funny thing awthegither. The
way ah look it it, it’s kinnay like drugs, or onythin else thit ye kin lose it
on – some kin take it, some cannae. Some fowk jist cannae handle thir fuckin
emotions it aw n they end up gettin bent oot ay shape fir the rest ay thir days
oor yin specific person when whit they should be daein is getting up n dustin
themselves off n jist movin right along.
Tell ye a classic fuckin example ay whit
ah’m talking aboot, n yin thit’ll pit yer ain problems intae perspective.
Happened a few year ago, jist eftir ah left the skill. Ah got a YTS – Youth
Training Scheme, mind ay them, the late 80s, Christ, ah’m showin ma age – doon
whit used tae be the Magnet N Southerns warehouse years ago doon Etna Road
alongside this laddie ah used tae be it the skill wi, same form class n
ivirythin. Ah wis workin in the actual mill itsel, whereas he startit off in
the office n eventually got shoved oot beside whaur ah wis.
N if thir wis ivir a laddie less suitit
tae a mill job than young John then ah’ve yit tae meet him. He wis yin ay they
right quiet, shy, sensitive boys, ye ken the type. Now ah minded ay John fae
the skill. Eywis playin the fuckin class clown tae try n get attention, bit ye
could tell underneath it he wis a right shy wee bugger. Dinnae think ah ivir
saw him talk tae a lassie in the four year we wir in the same form class.
Because he wis so shy, it wis a big
surprise when he came intae the work n startit goin on aboot this lassie fae
oor year it the school, Mary Carr. Seemed the wee man wis right fuckin intae
her in a big way, hud been fir a fair while. Bear that in mind ah only funt oot
a lot ay this story later on, when he laid it on me eftir she fucked his heid
up. He telt me because he nivir hud too many neeburs outside ay work n ah wis
yin ay the only boys in the mill he spoke tae on a regular basis. He kent thit
he could trust me no tae knock a rise oot ay him, because ah kent he wis awfy
thin-skinned.
Wee John wis right intae this fuckin Mary
lassie, stars in the eyes, the lot. Couldnae see it masel, she jist seemed like
an average bird tae me, bit beauty is in the eye ay the beholder n aw that, eh?
She wis a bit ay a slapper, if the truth be telt. A couple ay ma pals hud a
poke it her it the skill, bit ah didnae hae the hert tae tell the wee man. True
fuckin love n aw that shite, ken? Ah sometimes wonder if ah’d telt him the
score aboot her then whither it woulday made ony difference, bit probably no.
Ye ken whit some fowk are like when it comes tae somebody thir right intae,
they only hear whit they want tae hear, n even then they sometimes dinnae hear
it right.
Bit that’s the way John wis wi this Mary
lassie. If ye said black aboot her he’d say white, the sun shone oot ay her
fuckin erse, aw that rubbish. Perr bugger. It wis embarrassin the way he went
on aboot her. Ye wid ay thought she wis Mother fuckin Theresa instead ay jist
anither Fawkirk lassie tae hear him go on. He wis giein her poetry, floors, aw
this fuckin romantic nonsense, totally smitten, n she wis jist eggin him on.
Some lassies are jist like that though.
They’ll play wi a guy’s heid n get him tae dae cartwheels fir them, jist tae
see how far they can push him, then jist move ontae somebidy else when they’ve
hud a guid laugh it thir expense. Only thing is, some ay these lassies dinnae
ken thir playin wi fire, or jist dinnae care, n they kin drive some guys off
the deep end if thir no careful.
Eftir him tellin me whit she wis sayin n
daein fir a couple ay weeks ah sussed oot her game. Ah jist kept ma fuckin
mooth shut though. The way ah saw it, John wid go through aw this crap, make a
bit ay an erse ay himself n learn a bit fae it. Ye live n learn n resolve no
tae make such a fuckin mess ay it the nixt time, haud yer emotions back a bit,
we aw go through it. Ah thought, well, it least wee John wis gettin the guts
tae approach wimmin, ken? It’s aw aboot confidence buildin, as ye’ll no doubt
appreciate yersel.
So ah listened tae him goin on aboot her
fir aboot a month or so. He fuckin took her through tae Edinburgh, bought her
her dinner, records, aw that stuff. Which wisnae easy on a YTS’s wages, believe
you me. He nivir got a ride ootay her, mind you – when ah say he telt me ivirythin,
ah mean ivirythin. It wis a wee bit embarrassin tae hear the wee man go on.
He’d nivir hud sex afore n thought his luck wis well in there. He got as far as
her bedroom, sittin on her bed n spoutin aw this fuckin embarrassin personal
shite while she jist sat n listened, nae doot gettin a fuckin buzz ootay it.
Some boys jist dinnae ken who tae keep thir mooths shut in front ay, especially
inexperienced yins like John.
Ah made a couple ay wee enquiries n funt
oot thit this Mary wis goin oot wi anither boy apart fae John n she wis
obviously jist toyin wi him, fuckin stringin him along fir the hell ay it.
They’ll huv tae bury her in a fuckin Y-shaped coffin. John widnae believe it
when ah telt him aboot the ither boy she wis gaun oot wi. It probably wisnae ma
place tae tell him, bit ah jist felt really rotten fir him. He said ah wis jist
jealous. Me, jealous ay him! Ah wis goin oot wi a bird it the time, whit the
fuck hud ah tae be jealous aboot?
Bit John wis that far gone. He wis fuckin
obsessed wi this wee cow n she wis jist toyin wi him the way a cat might wi a
moose, only wi less fuckin mercy. He wis headin fir a serious crash n aw thit
ah could dae wis jist stand on the sidelines n watch his life turn intae a
fuckin car crash.
Aboot six weeks eftir John hud first
startit sniffin aboot this Mary he came in in a helluva fuckin state, heid
totally wastit, wanderin aboot the mill like a heidless chicken fir the entire
day. Telt me thit Mary didnae want tae see him onymair. Ah felt right sorry fir
him so ah took him oot tae the pub eftir work tae get a couple ay beers doon
his neck n gie him a bit ay a fuckin pep talk, lit him git things off ay his
chist.
Well, it turns oot John hus been intae
this Mary fir three years – three fuckin years
– n it wis on account ay she wis apparently the only lassie it the skill thit
wid talk tae him much. So he fixated on her, nivir haein the guts thit ony
normal young laddie might huv hud tae ask her oot n aw that. N his fuckin
feelins jist built up inside. Because this Mary lassie spoke tae him – probably
jist fuckin flirtin wi him the way she flirtit wi half the other fuckin boys in
oor year – she wis his dream lassie. Or it least yin he could talk tae, n it
that point they wur probably yin n the same tae him.
So he bumps intae her eftir he’d left the
skill n she gies him a ticket fir an eighteenth birthday pairty she’s haein. He
gets wrecked it the pairty n makes a fool ay himself n sends her a box ay
chocolates tae her hoose tae make up fir it, n she starts writin him letters n
phonin him. He goes roond tae her hoose a couple ay times tae visit her, takes
her oot n aboot, n things as far is he kin see ur goin jist hunky fuckin dory.
So John is sittin it hame yin time
listenin tae this band The Smiths – who’re a band ah’ve nivir been able tae
stand, by the way, that Morrissey’s jist a whinin-faced cunt – jist thinkin
aboot Mary n the fact thit she’s goin away tae university soon, switherin
whither tae tell her how he feels aboot her n how long he’s felt this way, when
he gets the idea fae the lyrics tae this song called Back to The Old House –
ah’ll remember that title till ma dyin day – jist tae dae it n the hell wi the
fuckin consequences.
She’d huv hud tae be fuckin blind not tae
be able tae read him it that point. Ah telt ye he wis a naïve wee punter. She
obviously felt fuck all for him, bit he nivir hud the experience base it that
point tae read the signs. But he gits the guts – n this dis take a hellay a lot
ay guts fir a shy laddie like him – tae go roond n tell this lassie how long
he’s been intae her.
Baaaaaad
move.
Onybidy who kent anything it aw aboot
wimmin wid ken thit tellin her somethin like that wid jist freak her oot big
style n hae her runnin a fuckin mile in the ither direction. Which is whit
happened wi this Mary tae a certain extent, bit she liked him bein that much
intae her a wee bit tae. Typical fuckin female ego shite. “Oh John, you’re not
obsessed with me, are you?” she asks him, n he says she hud a look on her
fuckin face thit said she thought this wid huv been cool, bit it least he hud
the guid sense tae say no. So he walked ootay the hoose, heid understandably
spinnin, n ootay her life.
Well ah tried tae set his heid straight,
bit he wis in a right bloody state. Telt me she’d telt him he should see a
fuckin psychiatrist, n ah wid agree – ye’d huv tae be mental tae fall fir a
wee hoor like that sae badly.
Ah telt him John, the hell wi it son, jist forget it, she’s no fuckin worth it,
she disnae deserve ye, move on n firget her, there’s plenty mair fish in the
sea. Aw the usual shite, ken whit ah mean?
N he seemed tae be listenin tae me. He
stopped talkin aboot her n seemed a lot happier it his job. The boy’s jist hud
a dose ay cold hard female reality, ah thinks tae masel, he’ll be aw the better
fir it. He’ll no git taken sae bad the nixt time, or mibbe the perr bugger’ll
get somebody who’ll treat him a bit fuckin better. Bit it least he seemed tae
be gettin oor this fuckin lassie n her twistit fuckin evil wee mindgames.
So he didnae mention her fir two or three
months n ah starts tae forget aboot her awthegither. Then yin Monday morning he
comes in n his heid is fuckin wastit again. Tells me he’d met Mary fir the
first time in months on the train comin back fae Edinburgh on the Setirday
night n thit she’d telt him he wis a fuckin looney n tae stop fuckin writin tae her cos she wis nivir
gonnae reply again.
Ah didnae even ken he’d still been writin
tae her, n tae tell ye the truth it pissed me off a bit. Ah hate it when ye gie fowk advice thit
they’ve asked ye fir n then they go oot n dae the exact opposite eftir agreein
wi ye. So ah jist telt him straight he wis bein a fuckin idiot n tae get a grip
ay himself n leave the lassie alane, thit we’d been through aw this shite
afore. Ah wis a bit sharp wi him, but sometimes ye’ve jist got tae be tae get
yer fuckin point across.
Ah thought it yin point the boy wis
gonnae start fuckin greetin bit he jist nodded n agreed wi me, sayin thit he
kent he wis daein stupid stuff bit he couldnae help himsel sometimes. Ah jist
says look, forget her, leave it, end ay fuckin story, ah dinnae want tae hear
nae mair aboot it, right? So we both goes back tae work n ah wis really hopin
that would be the end ay it. It wis gettin a bit fuckin weird fir me, tae tell
ye the truth. Ah’d nivir seen onybidy as hung up on somebidy else as John wis
on this fuckin bitch. Ah nivir saw him fir a couple ay days aboot the work, n
ah thought he wis off sick or somethin. Then yin ay the mill boys tells me thit
he’d heard fae the office manager thit John hud gone n fuckin topped himsel.
Deid. A fuckin…paracetamol overdose. End ay…story. So that wis that. John
McAllister, ma workmate n neebur, deid it sivinteen. It wis totally fuckin unbelievable, ah jist couldnae take it
in, fuckin sivinteen, Jesus…
Ah went roond tae his hoose that night tae see if it wis true, really true, fir masel. Ah hud tae. It wis John’s maw thit answered the door, een rid fae greetin n a bit spaced oot fae the tranquillisers the doctor hud gied her tae calm her doon. Ah’d met her afore, so ah went in n sat n talked tae her. She kept askin me why this hud happened, her n John’s faither couldnae understand it it aw. She hud nae idea why he’d done it, he’d nivir left a note, n ah hud tae explain tae her aboot Mary an aw the fuckin hassle he’d went through wi her. She wis completely taken by surprise. John hudnae even mentioned Mary tae her or his faither.
Ah left that hoose that night jist feelin totally numb. Ah jist couldnae fuckin take it take it aw in! Why did the silly wee bastirt no talk tae me, tell me whit wis goin on in his fuckin heid instead ay takin aw they fuckin pills? We could’ve worked it oot thegither, but naw, he hud tae go n fuckin top himsel, ae? Whoivir said thit suicide makes murderers ootay yer pals wis right. Fir fuckin months ah kept goin oor the things he’d said tae me in the weeks afore he died, tryin tae find clues is tae whaur his heid wis it. Nearly drove masel fuckin mental, bit in the end the only yin responsible fir John’s suicide wis himsel. He wis the yin thit poured the fuckin painkillers doon his neck, n thir’s naebidy in the world worth fuckin killin yersel oor. Pity that Mary hudnae sussed oot she wis messin aboot wi a timebomb until eftir she’d lit his fuse, eh? Onybidy who treats ye like she treated John disnae deserve the shite off yer shoes, n ah’m shair ye’d agree.
Ah saw her yin time eftir that, in the
Crosskeys up the toon. She wis wi some fuckin guy n ah went up tae her n asked
her if she kent aboot John. She said she did n thit he wis a nutter who should
ay been locked away years ago. Ah jist shook ma heid in disbelief. Ah’ve nivir
hit a woman in ma life bit ah wis sair fuckin temptit that night, ah kin tell
ye. Bit causin a fuckin scene widnae huv solved anything n ah jist left the
pub.
Bit time rolls on, n it wis twinty year
ago this August thit John died. Ah wis thinkin aboot him eftir ah opened the
Fawkirk Herald n saw Mary in the weddin pages. She wis standin there
oh-so-pure-n-fuckin-white glued tae the airm ay some guy ah didnae recognise.
Ah thought it wis lucky the photay wis in black n white otherwise ye’d huv been
able tae make oot John’s fuckin bloodstains on her hands. Ah wis fuckin ragin n
ah spat on it, ripped it oot ay the paper n chucked it in the fuckin bucket
whaur it belonged.
The way ah see it, she disnae hae ony
right tae happiness eftir tearin oot John’s hert like that. Ah could understand
her gettin freaked oot by him, but she might it least huv been a bit mair
understandin, ken? Bit she’s still alive n John is still deid n that, ma man, is life. The
whole thing wis a total fuckin nightmare fae start tae finish, n it’s jist a
pity thit John nivir got the chance tae learn the rules ay the game.
Ye ken it’s funny, bit ah kin see history
kinnay repeatin itsel in a sense. Ah ken this young lassie who has this quiet
young guy thit seems a bit obsessed by her. He’s sent her a couple ay bouquets
ay floors, n even went tae the lengths ay paintin the words ay some auld love song on the pavement
outside her hoose in the middle ay the fuckin night. Pretty mental stuff, eh?
Bit like ah says, some boys jist dinnae ken how tae express themsels ony ither
way. The sad thing is they build up a mental picture ay the lassie thit she
could nivir live uptae, even if they
did go oot thegither. So they hit the groond wi a bump…
…or mibbe a fuckin overdose. Ah hope this
laddie’s got a wee bit mair sense thin John hud, bit if no ah hope ah’m in the
pub the night he comes in fir a drink n a talk.
So ah suppose the bottom line ay it aw is
that shit happens, bit it hurts like hell at the time. A bit like ma parched
fuckin throat here! Your bell ma man.
Ah propose a toast: tae John McAllister,
rest his soul, n tae the insanity ay true love…
…Cheers.
END
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