- Venue: British Club For Working Men, Blackcombe-On-Sea
- Date: November 9th, 1974
- Behind the bar: Mild, Tetleys, Carling Black Label. Optics for 1 gin, 1 vodka, 1 whiskey. Brandy available if you pre-order with Eileen.
- On the bar: cheese and onion sandwiches, limp sausage rolls, Brannigans crisps.
Violent applause as John Eric takes a stride and arrives in the middle of the stage. He takes it in and deploys a well rehearsed chuckle while signalling that this really is Just Too Much. The stage lights try their best, the audience settles down. They wait.
Through silence John starts to speak, the rhasp of ten thousand cigarettes a week as much punctuation as a full stop.
So its thursday right and I’m in me house bored. The missus aint doing anythin and I aint got nuthin on until satde when I can go out with the fellas from work so I’m just sat there right not knowin what to do. Just bored. You know what its like lads dont ya
Nods and smirks from the audience. Sally – Johns wife – props herself up at the bar idly sipping a big Gin.
Anyway I start looking through the telly listings lookin for summit to watch and theres not much on. I keep goin and I see the normal stuff. Soaps, news, whatever. But then I see a thing about a program on Tigers – there’s a picture next to it of this great massive Tiger jumpin at the camera. And I look on the mantlepiece and there we’ve got a little figure of a Tiger and I go an pick it up an look at it.
Ah its great, it STRONG. You know. It’s probably the only thing she’s bought for the mantlepiece that aint some shit porcelain clown or whatever. You know lads, you know the utter SHIT that they buy that you av to look at
More smirks, some nods curtailed by glares. Women start to stare out of the windows but they just reflect back. Sally rolls her eyes, orders another drink. How many times does she need to listen to this? Make it stop.
So I goes back to me chair and sit down and keep reading the telly listings. More soaps, more news, you know. Then I see “Formula One Racing” and I think oh bloody hell that must be brilliant! There’s a photo next to the listing of a driver – I dunno who – but he’s next to his car with all these birds and that and I just think – bloody hell what a life!
The male audience is transfixed. Not a sip taken since John started.
Then it hits me. I stand up. SALLY, I shout to er upstairs. SALLY I’m goin out.
Where? She shouts back
Shops. I’ve got summit I need to do.
Shops are shut. She ses. She’s right n all. So I have to wait til the next day.
So the next day I gets up, I’m meant to be in work but I call in sick.
SALLY im goin out to the shops
What for? She ses
Dont matter, no time! I say and get out the door and drive to the shops. In the town I get to the one shop that should have what I need – its a sports shop, I know the bloke that owns it. We go back years. Great bloke. I knew his dad.
Sally stares at John. She’s not listening she’s just there, in the same room. She moves on to staring at her drink, then back to John. Jesus Fucking Christ. Look at him.
Alright Dave! I ses
Alright John how you keepin?
Yeah alright mate, not bad at all. You?
Yeah not so bad.
…
…
The male audience is becoming unsure. The female audience have joined Sally in the ceremony of staring at their drinks. Sometimes swirling them around. Sometimes tipping the glass to the point that the drink nearly comes out but just quite doesn’t. One woman gets it slightly wrong and is thrilled.
John relentlessly continues.
So what can I do you for John? he ses.
Dave you know those Race car drivers?
Yeah. He ses
And they wear all that gear
Yeah racing suit and stuff.
Yeah well I want to buy all that but in Tiger print.
You what John?
I want all that clobber that they wear but I want to look like a Tiger!
Women stare at the bar, the door, the ceiling. Anything. Willing something to happen. Anything. Please. An explosion. Whatever. Their reflections in the windows cry for help.
Well, thing is John I can help you out but only a bit. You need boots, gloves, suit and helmet right. Now I happen to have tiger print boots and gloves (dont ask me why) but I cant help you with the rest.
Right-o. I’ll take it. Do you know where I can get the other bits from?
Yeah. My brother has a shop one town over, I bet he’s got it.
So I jump back into me car and head off to his brothers shop. I gets there and its just after lunch and he’s shut! So I goes home and I ses to Sally
I need some more stuff but I cant get it til tomorra because the shops shut
Oh, ok she sed. So I sit down and I wait for tomorra. And then when its the next day I ring in sick again and head off to Daves brothers shop.
When I get there I go in and the bloke looks just like Dave.
Bemused, desperate chuckling emerges from pockets of the room. A few of the men are worrying about whether they could go to the bar without getting shouted down by John.
Hello mate are you Daves brother?
Hello, yes I am. Are you a friend of his?
Yeah we go way back. One of me best friends.
Oh is that right? Did we meet before at his wedding then? I was hammered so probably why I dont recognize you haha!
Dave got married?
Yeah, err.. last year. It was only a small thing to be fair but… anyway what can I help you with?
Oh, well, I ses, You know those Race car drivers?
Yeah. He ses
And they wear all that gear
Yeah racing suit and stuff.
Yeah well I want to buy all that but in Tiger print. Your brother sold me the gloves and boots already but he said you could sort me out with a helmet and a suit?
The audience don’t know what to do. They’re trapped. They look at the stage and each other and the bar and the toilets and the floor and the ceiling and the paintings and their glasses and the beer mats and they are searching for any kind of reassurance that this is ok but it’s not forthcoming. And it doesn’t matter, anywhere they look their attention is inevitably dragged kicking and screaming and dying to John on the stage.
You want what?
I want a racing suit and a helmet but so I look like a ferocious tiger!
Hmm, I don’t know if we have anything like that. We mainly sell more general sports stuff like tennis rackets and… like… table tennis nets
Well Dave, your brother, said you could probably help?
I’ll look in the back he ses and goes into the back room. I have a bit of a wander about the shop and see he’s got some shuttle cocks on sale, 50% off! I don’t really play badminton though so not much good to me. Anyway Daves brother comes back and in his hand, to my surprise
PLEASE, Eileens eyes are screaming from behind the bar. Sally sees it, not for the first time. Sally knows that Eileen is thinking “It either needs to be the racing suit AND the helmet or a fucking bomb. A bomb to blow us all up forever just so for that one split second we can hear the explosion that signifies the end rather than this FUCKING STORY”
he’s got a racing suit. A perfect tiger print, it looks grand. I snatch it off im and old it up. Its perfect, the brightest deepest orange popping against a perfect black!
Sally looks at Eileen as if to say “sorry love”
I’ll take it! I shout at im
You dunno how much it costs
Well how much is it?
Err, £23
No problem! I ses and throw £25 at him. You got the helmet n all?
No sorry, but my brother might.
Nah, I’ve already seen Dave. I bloody told you he sent me here!
Nah, my other brother, Pete. He owns a specialist racing shop in…
John Eric checks his hand. The stage lights, sweat, hair wax and 5 pints of Mild have blurred his vision. He moves his hand around his face until it focuses
Blackport-on-sea!
….
….
No response from the Blackcombe-on-sea British Club for Working Men audience. They don’t know if that’s where they are any more. Many are starting to wonder if they’d died. Some are starting to wish it.
So I goes ome and Sally is there waiting for me
Jesus Christ. The men are past it now, half of them upset at this fucking idiot getting their town wrong and the other half either needing a new drink or a toilet break – all of them bored.
Sally and Eileen have started chatting, turns out they both really like crime novels.
Whereve you bin? She asks me. Dunno about you blokes but I cannae be doin with that kind of stuff when I get in so I just ignored er and went to sleep on me chair.
Wen I wake up I can smell some brekfist cooking so I goes int’ kitchen and there’s Sally cookin up some eggs and bacon and shs ses to me
Good morning Jon. I’ve cooked you breakfast! Went to the butchers first thing this morning – he somehow knew it was my birthday so he gave me all of this for free!
It’s like she never stops eh lads! You know what its like. So anyway I sit there in silence and then wen I’m done I stand up and walk straight out t’ shop. I cannae wait to get the last piece!
So I gets in me car and I drive to…
He checks his hand again. Can’t read it. He holds his hand out to the audience, inviting them to shout it. “Black-…something” he wants them to shout and get excited and cheer. This is their place, their town and he has gifted them this opportunity to entwine it with showbiz. He doesn’t know he’s already fucked it once.
Nothing. John gives it another beat. Nothing. There’s no cheering of their town. They are in this but they will not be part of it.
John moves past it
So I goes into the shop. I sees Pete there at the counter.
Ey are you Pete?
Yeah, do I know you?
Nah but I know your brothers. One of them sent me here
Oh yeah, which one?
Err… Not Dave, the other one I ses to him.
Oh, must be George or Bill then.
Oh there 4 of you is there?
Yeah – how old did he look?
Who?
My brother who sent you here
Oh, about, dunno, 50?
Ah that will be Bill then, how is he?
Yeah he seemed fine
A woman stands up, grabs her glass and throws it on the floor. Throws it as hard as she can. It smashes, glass scatters and settles into what’s left of the carpet. Her husband pulls her down back onto her chair.
So anyway I says to im Thing is mate I’m looking to get an helmet like those race car drives av but I want it to look like a Tiger
You want it to look like a tiger? He asked me
Yeah mate I want to look like a fierce tiger. With the orange and black stripes! And if you can put eyes on it and maybe some teeth then that would be grand!
I’m getting excited thinkin about it! Pete thinks for a minute and checks a list next to him. Give me a sec he ses and goes in the back.
I have a look around the shop and the walls are covered in different types of spoons, hessian sacks, bits of rope. One of the spoons costs £500 and is made of carbon fibre – a material that aint bin invented yet! After a few minutes Pete appears again
How’s this for ya? He ses and shoves a helmet into me ands. I forgot we had this, its meant to be for skipping races but I reckon it will do you just fine
Let me tell you ladies and gentlemen
Some of the ladies and gentlemen have died
it was perfect. It was shiny and bright orange and deep black and it had little eyes on the top. I’ll take it!!
Alright great, thats 18 quid please
I hand em over and rush out the shop and go straight home. I blast upstais and get all me gear together. Sally is by the front door as I hed out holding a cuppa for me. GET OUT ME FUKIN WAY! I ses to er as I yank the door open and shove her out the way.
Eileen raises an eyebrow at Sally, pours her a drink. Doesn’t take any money. Sally downs it and leaves.
I jump in me car and hed to
John Eric checks his left hand
Silverstone!
So I gets there around lunch time and theres a race on. I’m dead excited. I goes into me car boot and get all me gear out.
Tiger print racing boots
Tiger print racing gloves
Tiger print racing suit
Tiger helmet
I put it all on and I go into the race course. I ed over to one of the fast corners and all the cars are screaming past me. Theres a bit of grass and I lie down in it and crawl up real real close to the corner. The cars are goin past just a few inches away and I’m here in this grass and I’m lying down and I’m in all me tiger gear and I’m waiting there like a tiger.
I think about the Tigers I saw on me little telly. They were powerful, unstoppable. They were at the top of the food chain.
I think about the drivers in their cars goin past my head. They’re athletic, dedicated, glamorous, EXCITING.
I think about myself, here on this corner in my Tiger print racing boots, Tiger print racing gloves, Tiger print racing suit, Tiger helmet. And I wait. And I wait. And finally I catch a ladybird hanging from a blade of grass and shove it in my mouth. On the corner. In my tiger gloves, suit, gloves and helmet.
I am
The. Apex. Predator.
Nothing from the audience. A bit of muttering as the few people who were still listening and understood the “word play” at an intersection of racing and nature jargon explained it to anyone who was curious enough to at least let out a “eh?”. They’ve been through bemusement, boredom, anger, fear, boredom boredom boredom soul death boredom. Is the joke done now? A man at the back stands up, stares forward and then just sits back down. One guy claps but no one joins him. Several people head to the bar.
John Eric leaves the stage, goes straight out of the door to his car. On the dash is the porcelain Tiger from the mantlepiece. He doesn’t understand. And where is Sally? She was meant to either wait in the car or go for her one allowed drink at the bar and then return before his routine started to close down. He’s sure he saw here leave? She fucking KNEW the routine well enough, he’d been rehearsing for months. Over and over. Every day.
Oi!
It was Sally, standing in front of the car lit only by the yellowed headlights. Her breath turning to mist in the cold. She’s staring directly at John while holding a beige plastic thing.
Prick.
She “ses”, pulling the antenna out on whatever that thing is. Then pressing the comically large red button.
A quick flash. Weirdly not much noise. The sea wind carries away the smoke quickly. The joke was over. Everyone went home.
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