Pedro Lenz - Naw Much of a Talker

Say hi tae Marta an’ get tae the fuckin doctor, ah cawed eftir him. He didnae hear me but. Wis awready on the ither side ae the railway crossin.

Ah tidied the kitchen an’ checked the envelope. Five thoosan. The hale loat at wance. Looked guid, it did, aw in hunners, wey it shid be. Thanks, Uli, ah thought an’ went doon intae the village tae buy summit tae eat, cleanin stuff fur the toilet an’ a few bottles ae wine, good stuff, tae be oan the safe side.

An’ naw, ah dont want the money-off coupons. An’ you hiv a nice evenin an’ aw. An’ thank you an’ aw, Frau Zürcher. Thank you, ah’ll pass it oan. Course ah’ll mind tae. An’ thank you very much. Bye noo. Thanks a lot.

Followin Wednesday, ah get an early mornin phone call fae some insurance company cunt. Wakes me at nine. Fuckin great. Contents an’ third-party liability or summit, widnae mind droppin by, tae gi’e me a quote, nae strings attached.

Did ah ivver fuckin ask furra quote? Hi, hello, the some-cunt said, I understand you require a quote? Ahv nae memory ae it, sorry. Ah think ahd know but. Ah know who ahv requested whit fae. An’ whit’s mair: it wisnae his fault exactly, but ah wisnae feelin very well right at this minute.

He apologised an’ hung up. Guid. Okay. Naw that it matters. Ah apologise an’ aw. Nae idea why ah reacted so aggressively.

Truth ae the matter wis ah kid hiv gone tae Cobbles right noo, furra read ae the paper an’ tae see wis Regula workin. Ah didnae go. An’ ahm naw goney eether. There’s nae point. Regula’s thegither wi Buddy an’ Buddy’s thegither wi her an’ the two o them ur gettin oan great, presumably, an’ there’s nae part fur me in this soppy fuckin film they’re in. Ah’ll make masel look ridiculous jist if ah try tae get aff wi her, her practically merrit an’ aw.

Mibbe but, ah kid jist gi’e it a go. Mibbe she’s been sick tae the back teeth ae this Buddy guy fur ages awready, him an’ his souped-up Toyota fuckin Celica, his rotten taste in music an’ that stupit fuckin face ae his. If that wis the case, it disnae mean ah shid be the wan tae draw it tae her attention but. Naw. If she’s goney tell Buddy tae get tae fuck, it his tae be her idea. That wid be the best wey. Fur me, anyhoo.

Ah walked the full length ae ma pad, up an’ doon, up an’ doon, fur hawf a fuckin eternity. The nerves, fuckit, ma nerves. Ah jist got even mair nervous in jail. Ma nerves ur ma weak point. Bein nervous is the pits. Ye can smoke as much as ye fuckin want, if yir nerves ur really gettin tae ye but, nae cigarette an’ nae joint oan this earth is goney help ye.

Whit time is it? Eftir hawf nine. Fucksake. Ah need tae find a joab once an’ fur aw. Need tae look at the Advertiser, check oot the joab adverts. Where’d ah pit it? They’ve the Advertiser at Cobbles an’ aw. They dae coffee at Cobbles. Ahd feel better at Cobbles.

Check this oot, Regula, me headin fur Cobbles, ten minutes ah need — door-tae-door — fae ma place tae Cobbles, anither two jist noo. Listen, Regula, it’s got nowt tae dae wi you, it really hisnae. Naw, it’s jist the Advertiser ah want. Look at me. Ahm Goalie, the guy makin a new start. When ye see me comin intae Cobbles, aw ye need tae think is: aha, he’s lookin furra joab an’ comin in here tae read the Advertiser. It’s naw the before-Goalie. Naw, it’s the eftir-yin. He’s changed. He’s Paul oan the way tae Damascus. He’s fell aff his hoarse an’ his eyes hiv opened. It’s naw cause ae me he’s in. It’s naw some dodgy deal that’s brought him. He disnae want tae borrow money. It’s jist a coffee he wants an’ the Advertiser, a decent joab a-s-a-p an’ that’s it: nowt else like.

Mornin, ivrywan.

Mornin, Goalie.

That’s Paule, the postie. He sits there ivry day fur nearly an hour oan his break. The ithers dont say hello tae the cunt unless they hiv tae. Eh, excuse me, guys, when is it ye hiv tae? When, if naw when some cunt comes in an’ says hi tae ivrywan? Fuckin: miserable old fogeys — aw ye get in this dump. Fuckit. Ah lift an Advertiser. Pesche’s the only wan servin. Pesche’s the boss. He owns Cobbles. A coffee wi cream but nae cream but, please, Pesche, an’ an almond croissant. Is Regula naw workin theday?

Naw until the eftirnoon, how?

Ahm ah naw allowed tae ask or whit, Pesche?

Ah didnae say anythin, did ah? Ah jist said she isnae in till the eftirnoon.

Aye, but kid ye naw mibbe say it mair normally like. Friendly, like.

Whit’s up wi ye, Goalie? Wis the wey ah said it naw normal enough or whit? Ur ye noo comin intae ma pub tae tell me how tae speak, how tae tell folk who’s here an’ who isnae? If ah wur you, ahd cool it a bit, Goalie. Specially wi your record.

Sorry, mate. Yir right. Got oota the wrang side ae the bed this mornin. Sorry. Ahm sorry, ah am. Kin ye gi’e me change fur the cigarette machine?

It’s aye a bit touch-and-go wi Pesche. He’s often in a bad mood, he is. If you turn up in a bad mood but, he can be fuckin venomous. Right fae the aff. Disnae take much. An’ that’s the last fuckin thing ah need: a fight in Cobbles. So ah gi’e it: thanks, Pesche, thanks, can ah pay right away, it’s fine like that, naw ah mean it, keep the change, thanks, mate, an’ ahm sorry, okay?

There ye go. A coffee wi cream wi’oot any cream. We’re ootae croissants but. Enjoy.

Aw right, they’re ootae croissants, right, right. Folk must be fuckin ravenous in this dump.

Ah am: ahm an idiot. Ah shouldnae hiv come here. There’s nowt in the Advertiser eether. Nuthin suitable anyhoo. Mibbe ah should fuck off, back tae ma auld joab. Or fuck off awthegither, exactly, mibbe ah should jist fuck off some place else, some place where nae cunt knows me.

That right, Goalie? It true ye wur in the Joke? (It’s Paule again, the postie.)

How long hiv ye been oan yir break awready, Paule? Ye shid pay up an’ go. Itherwise it’ll be you that’s daein time fur in-yir-face fuckin laziness an’ askin stupid questions. Ye widnae be the first. An’ mibbe, while ye wur in there, ye kid take oan the post, the jail mailman, it’s a popular position. Ye’d need tae get yir rear in fuckin gear fur that wan but.

A few cunts ur laughin now. They dont say hi — gi’e them summit tae laugh at but an’ they’ll rise tae the bait. Ah shoulda kept ma gob shut. The postie’s naw a bad cunt really. Naw any worse than aw the other dicks in here anyhow. An’ the truth ae the matter is: it’s aye a mistake tae give folk that hivnae a fuckin clue summit tae laugh at. Ah feel sorry fur the postie, fur masel, ah feel sorry fur masel, the situation, me needin tae use a sad bastard like the postie tae show ahv still got whit it takes upstairs.

Hardly in the door ah am, an’ Uli’s faither’s oan the phone.

Hello, Mr Sutter.

How ahm ah, Sutter asks.

Fine thanks, ah say, yirsel?

Fine as well, thanks.

An’ then, eftir the two of us hidnae said nuthin furra minute, he says he’d heard ahd been through a rough patch.

Aye, true, it wisnae easy. Things ur oan the up again but. An’ thanks, by the way, the flat’s jist-the-joab. Really: jist-the-joab it is.

Dont mention it. He’d heard an’ aw ah wis oan the lookoot fur summit. An’ he’d summit fur me. Maag’s. The print shop. Deliveries. Wis jist temporary. Fur aboot six months. Staunin in fur someone else. It wis a joab but. Ahd a drivin license, hadnt ah? Or hadnt ah? He kid gi’e me the number tae caw.

Thanks, ah’ll think aboot it. How long did ye say it wis fur?

Six months. Ask them yirsel but. Six months, ah think it is.

Thanks.

It’s nuthin.

Then anither wee silence. An’ then — this hid tae come, hadnt it — wan ae they embarrassed coughs an’ then: ur ye still in touch wi oor Uli?