The hilarious conspiracy of a city beset by Anguses who watch Dave's every move was all down to Kevin. As I said last week, I only wish I had recorded Kev when he was in full Angus mode. It had me in stitches. He’d heard my stories about D.C. Thomson, but he’d also read Leo Baxendale’s autobiography,, where he relates his experiences in Dundee. They may also have inspired Kevin. As you probably know Leo was the creator of the Bash Street Kids and numerous other well loved comic strips in the Beano.
The errand boy posting letters down a drain was me. I was fifteen when I started the job and how I stuck it for a whole year I’ll never know. Happy days!
Pat.
Seeing Mr Cooper again, after all those years, Dave yearned for a drink, but the pubs were closed and he went to bed sober. But that night, he had a vivid drinking dream where he was back working for Angus, Angus and Angus in Aberdeen, and enjoying a lunch time pint in the Angus Arms.
Fortified by several pints, in full body lager-armour, he felt invincible. He was ready for anything. Even working on Widow and Wallet. His dad was right: the answer to life’s problems was to drink your way to oblivion.
As he staggered back to work, a roadsweeper outside the Angus Arms silently observed him and made a call from a call box: ‘He’s just leaving now.’ A mother with a pram also spotted him and hurried to a call box. She dialled a number and reported to the person at the other end: ‘He has a wee bit of a stagger.’
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Happily drunk and unaware he was being watched, Dave entered Bleek House, the granite-built publishing H.Q. of Angus, Angus, and Angus, opposite the old burial ground. He was fifteen minutes late and was summoned to face Mr Angus Sinclair. A tweedy character of indeterminate age, he sat grimly waiting for Dave in his funereal, Edwardian office, a bible visible on his otherwise empty desk.
‘Now you should be aware we make it our business to know everything that goes on in this city,’ said Mr Angus. ‘So it is always better to own up and tell the truth.’ He looked Dave grimly in the eye. ‘Have you been drinking …? Make a clean breast of it, Davey.’
‘No, Mr Angus,’ said Dave, standing before him.
Mr Angus produced a breathalyser.
‘Well, now let’s see if you’ve been an honest laddie or not, laddie.’ He handed the breathalyser over for Dave to blow into. ‘We’ll need to take blood and urine samples as well. Although Angus the Washroom Attendant may already have them. Now … I’ll ask you one more time, Davey. Have you been drinking …?’
Dave hesitated and Mr Angus pointed to the bible. ‘We can show you Christian forgiveness if you tell us the truth, laddie.’
‘Yes. I was drinking, Mr Angus,’ said Dave penitently.
‘You’re fired. The doorman will escort you from the building.’ Dave went ashen-faced. Mr Angus regarded him balefully. ‘And there’s no train that will take you out of this town after you’ve been sacked from Angus, Angus and Angus. You’ll be walking back to London.’
‘No. Please, sir,’ Dave begged, ‘please, don’t sack me, Mr Angus.’
Mr Angus looked approvingly at Dave’s humble grovelling. ‘Good. That was just to teach you a lesson, Davey. You see, we’re a family firm and we like to keep a fatherly eye on our employees and keep them on the straight and narrow.’ Dave breathed a sigh of relief. ‘So now …I’d like to discuss your file with you.’
He leafed through some documents on his desk.
‘Your landlady has been telling us you’ve been complaining about the damp and the rats in her lodging house …?’ Dave nodded in agreement. Mr Angus pursed his lips and looked severely at Dave. ‘But this is a hard town, Davey. A granite town. And what did you want hot water for? Are you expecting a baby? A brisk, cold scrub-down in the yard is enough for old Mr Angus.’
‘Also …’ Mr Angus checked some more reports, ‘your next door neighbour tells us you had the radio on loudly after nine o’clock in the evening.’ He paused to let the full impact of this announcement get through to Dave, then continued. ‘Now, we can’t order you to turn it off, but we strongly recommend you do.’
‘Yes, Mr Angus. It won’t happen again, sir.’
‘And Angus Electrical tell us you’ve ordered a colour television, no less.’ Mr Angus was clearly taken aback by this information. He checked through the various papers again. ‘But there is no record of you coming into an inheritance … your statements from the Angus Bank of Scotland do not show sufficient funds. Was it the hire purchase you were thinking of …?’ Mr Angus shot Dave a warning look. ‘Because I think you’re being a little over-confident of your position, Davey.’
Dave hung his head repentantly which, once again, met with his employer’s approval.
‘Of course, in time, we may help you purchase a nice wee granite tenement.’ Mr Angus was more conciliatory now. ‘But only if you play your cards right. Although,’ he added hastily, ‘obviously, we wouldn’t approve of you really playing cards.’
Dave woke up sweating. He had been starting to have a second dream where he had blown into the breathalyser like Billy Blower, and it inflated into a balloon and he took off into the air.
His mother had been watching him. ‘It was just a dream, son,’ she reassured him.
‘The reality up there in Aberdeen was worse, mum,’ said Dave, sighing and thinking back.
He sat up in his sleeping bag. ‘What’s wrong with me? Why am I such a coward? Why don’t I stand up to them? Why didn’t I stand up to Cooper?’
‘That’s not true. You do stand up for yourself, Dave.’ She checked her make-up and hair in her mirror.
‘Well, when? Tell me. I need some support, mum.’
‘When what …? Sorry, I was far away.’
‘When have I ever stood up for myself?’
‘When Angus, Angus and Angus wouldn’t give you your old job back, you told them to eff off.’
Dave shook his head. ‘That doesn’t count. That was a one-off.’
Jean Maudling thought again. ‘When you were an errand boy, you told M & R Pell to stick their job?’
‘Not really. I just posted all the letters I was meant to deliver down a drain and never went back. I couldn’t face them. I never stood up to them.’
‘Yes, you know, I think you’re right, Dave’ said his mother, thoughtfully. ‘On reflection, you are spineless.’
‘Thanks a bunch, mum,’ said Dave bitterly.
But in one respect, Dave did show a certain true grit, that even John Wayne might have admired, although he had no idea where his determination came from. Because the mysterious forces that really motivated him always remained hidden in the shadows of his mind.
Serial Killer by Pat Mills & Kevin O’Neill is the first book in the Read Em And Weep series and is on sale digitally or as paperback.