James Kelman - Kieron Smith, Boy

Because the boss was wanting the pay-in quick. And people went out after their tea. If ye were too late collecting there was nobody in to pay. Mitch did not care. Oh fuck them.

Aye but Mitch if they are paying the money.

I do not care.

But if ye have to come back on Saturday morning?

Well we are no going to run.

But we have to.

Well I am no fucking running.

Well I fucking am.

Oh fuck sake Smiddy you have always got to do the things.

Well?

Well I do not fucking want to.

Mitch was always tired. I was tired too but ye just done it, if ye got yer money, ye just done it. If it was too heavy rain doing the deliveries we did not go home before collecting. Ye finished earlier. The boss liked it because ye did the pay-in quick. And it was good for going to the BB. That started at seven o'clock so ye were nearly on time. But I did not like it. It was good going home for yer tea and then coming back out wearing yer good stuff. Freddy the driver said it too, if ye wanted good tips ye had to look the part. Oh ye have to look the part, that is what Freddy said, ye have to fucking look the part.

When we did not go home we bought crisps and lemonade off the ice-cream van and ate it up the last close. But Mitch was good at getting grub. He chapped people's doors and asked the woman for a piece on cheese or else jam. It was good if the paperboy was coming up the street. We sat down on the steps to eat the pieces when he came in the close. Oh this piece on jam is great Mitch.

Oh aye Smiddy.

Oh you bastards, where did ye get the pieces? Give me a fucking bite?

The alsatian sentry dog stayed in the second last close and we could see it poking its head out to watch the rain. Mitch said to the paperboy, See if I was you I would fucking poison it, I would get a fucking gun.

Well it is no the alsatian's fault, I said.

Oh you always fucking say that.

But it was true. The alsatian was an ex-sentry dog and bred to the security business, trained to attack thieves and robbers. The old man that owned the dog telled me about it. He only telled me because it was me that listened. He telled some good stuff. I liked hearing him. Once the old alsatian got a grip of ye it would never let go, even if ye bust its teeth with a crowbar. It would go for anybody that was suspicious so if ye ran that was you.

Ye never run with dogs. Lucky for the paperboy it was good thick leather else it would be a chunk out his flesh and blood. It was the paperboy's fault for running. If ye do not run sentry dogs will not attack ye. That was how ye trained yer dogs. Ye told it what to do and he done it and if he did not then ye got rid of it, ye sent it away for a pet. Because it was no good if it did no do what ye telled it. Alsatians were working dogs. If ye trained them right and they did not conform, well, ye had to train them right, so if they conformed, if they did not ye got rid of them.

The dog lied beside the old man when he was talking. It always watched me coming. Oh do not worry, said the old man, if that dog did not like ye ye would be dead by now. He has yer scent and it is okay.

If the dog came to sniff ye ye just had to let it. Breathe in and do not move. Say hullo son, he is saying hullo to you, just say hullo. But do not clap it.

I thought ye were to clap dogs.

Oh no son, no a dog like him, ye never clap him, never ever clap him.

Its eyes looked up at ye. Sometimes Mitch watched from along the pavement. The old man saw him. What about yer pal?

Oh he delivers the next close.

The other stuff the old man talked about was fights, fights he had with villains out the underworld. In Glasgow there was a big underworld. People were cowards with them but he was not, he just had to deal with them. That was his job. He asked about my da. I said about the Navy.

Oh that is smashing son, yer da is a serviceman. Mind you, nothing against the Navy, but it is not the same as the Army. Ye have to bash heads in the Army. That is yer job. If ye do not like it ye lump it, else ye are out. If ye cannot do the job they boot ye out and quite right too.

But Civvy Street was so much the worse, they were all thieves and robbers and just low-down cheating scumbags. When he was a security guard he had to deal with them. Smack first talk later. They came at him with sticks and knifes and he had to disarm them. The same if they had guns. He had a gun himself and he shot a man but it was in line of duty. It was a service pistol and he had it planked in the lobby press. Usually it was unarmed combat. The old man was trained for it from the Army. Villains did not know what real fighting was. So with his training he could beat the living daylights out them. These villains were all cowards especially if ye got them alone, ye just waited and then ye got them. Oh do not hit me do not hit me do not hit me! They were all just scared and cowards. No unless it was a real fighter. Some were real fighters and ye could spot them a mile away, so then ye had to caw canny. Ye just caw canny.

The old villains were like that, they were rough and ready. They were not sleakit and did not knife ye, that was one thing. They were not fly men cheaters. It was a square go. Ye had to fight hand to hand. That was unarmed combat. If yer training was up to the minute ye were a jump ahead.

The paperboy did not believe it. I was telling him and Mitch. We were waiting for the rain to go off, sitting on the steps of the last close for a last smoke. Oh he is just talking shite, said the paperboy, you believe everything he says.

Do I fuck, I said.

He is just a boasting old bastard.

No he is not.

Aye he fucking is.

He is, said Mitch.

But maybe he was not. The old man telled me about sailors down the docks that were foreigners and had their own way of doing it. They walked in and threw ye over their shoulder or else put ye flat on yer back. Ye had to be fast and slippery like them. If ye were nobody could hold ye, ye got out their grasp and slipped away. They had different ways of doing it. The main thing was turning yer man. And that was right because my granda showed me that when I was a wee boy, how ye just get yer man when he is coming in just getting his hand and oh pull him through and knock him over and he is off balance and that is it, he is down and ye just can get him. It did not matter if they were bigger than ye. The bigger the better.

Oh yer granda is right, said the old man. One time he was wrestling a big foreigner and the big foreigner came in and the way he did it the old man got his arm and pulled him through and just turned him and bumped him over so then he got him down easy and had his hand up his back. Do ye surrender? No. Do ye surrender? No. So he done it harder, till, Aye, aye, and the big foreigner had to surrender.

Because if he did not, the old man could have broke his arm in two. Mitch was listening but the paperboy did not believe it. That old cunt is a liar and a boaster. He is a fucking fanny-merchant.

No but my granda too, I said, that is how he done it.

The paperboy just looked. But if he thought my granda was a boaster he was very wrong. My granda showed me and I could do it. So could my brother. One time it was us all and Uncle Billy and we were practising and it was Matt to get Uncle Billy and he did! He got him, Matt got him! We were all clapping, Uncle Billy too. So then granda showed me and it was me to get him the same way and I nearly did. The paperboy just shook his head when I said it, but it was true, it really was.

Smiddy is right, said Mitch.

Mitch knew because I showed him in Primary School. Yer man came in and ye grabbed his wrist and pulled it through and he was off balance, ye just shoved him hard and got him down.

It is just shite, said the paperboy.