It’s a bit annoying when a work colleague you get along with leaves work which is what happened to me. Neil, who has moved to pastures new was quite an entertaining chap with his care free attitude that you used to have me in stitches My manager would spend an hour telling him how things work and what the procedures were and I could see on his face that although his body was there his mind checked out a long time ago. However, this wasn’t to say that he some unintelligent being he just realised or was resisting the fact that procedures are generally extremely boring. Instead what brought him to life was comedy. Especially finding radio shows on the Listen Again function the BBC has. He introduced me to the Mitchell and Webb and also 8 Out Of 10 Cat’s radio shows which I salute him for. He was also a massive fan of Dilbert who I had never heard of until I met him. He thought I was a sheltered boy but when he showed me some Dilbert strips I thought they was rubbish and instead found it more amusing calling him Dilbert for a bit. But this place of work wasn’t really for him and claimed he found something else in Coventry in a publishing house. I reckon he’s just sitting at home waiting for his dole check to come through. Unfortunately for me they aren’t replacing him straight away so I’m having to do some extra work, we don’t even get a temp which I was hoping as the temp conveyor belt brings in some interesting characters. There was one temp who I worked with who resembled Richmond from the IT Crowd. He dressed in black, had long black hair and rarely spoke and when he did he sounded like Will Self, deep, slow and rather convoluted. It was hard to get a conversation out of him but when you did because of the pace he set about divulging his story I was able to work out what he was going to say next and try to beat him to it to move the tale on. He was a really nice guy and again another who either realised or refused to conform to procedures easily and one day went for lunch and never returned.
When I got back from work I decided to write out some more prose as I needed to empty my head of stuff, so here it is.
When I got back from work I decided to write out some more prose as I needed to empty my head of stuff, so here it is.
************************************************
The BP garage where Yannish worked was exactly was no different to the ones you pass on the motor way or stop for petrol. His one was actually just on the motorway and getting to it was a bit of a nightmare. As he didn’t drive he couldn’t go the most straightforward route and instead had to take a convoluted way he managed to gauge out for himself after many experimental walks. Getting quite close to the garage was easy as there was a path that ran all along above it but to get down it you had to walk down a steep slope of bushes and hedges, underneath a bridge where a gathering of vagabonds usually congregated drinking beer or injecting themselves with what ever mind altering fluid they could get hold of. On more than one occasion Yannish was heckled by them as he walked past with the occasional half eaten Jaffa Cake or crisp packet with an orange in it would hit the back of his head. Cackles of laughter could be heard from behind him as he would rub his head rather forlornly at where he’d been hit. He wanted to go over there and smack them but them being all outside the society circle he wondered what they would do to him should he swing and miss and find him self tumbling to the floor looking up at them. He thought it best to just ignore them. One day, he walked past them ignoring them when one of them called out his name.
“Yannish.”
Yannish, carried on walking ignoring the sound he thought was his name.
“Yannish, Oi Yannish, come over here.”
The gruffly sounding voice definitely said his name.
“What do you want?” replied Yannish turning round. He could see the three of them sitting but leaning against the slope of the bridge. The one who called out was in the middle. He had a thick beard that terrorised the bottom half of his face with its wild strands. And where the strands ended on the bottom half of his face his long greasy ginger hair would touch and entwine with them from above forming some sort of barrier all around him. His face looked hard with wrinkles visible on his forehead encrusted with the white colour of dryness or cold. His small but focused eyes stared intently at Yannish and relaxed a little when Yannish met his stare and exposed his brown tarnished teeth. Yannish took this as an attempt to smile at him. The other two men were sitting either side of him their bodies slightly turned towards him to almost form a semi circle. The man on the right had long straight but also greasy brown hair. He had glasses with lenses that seemed to be steamed up and was perched at the end of his nose. He too was staring at Yannish but not through the glasses but with his own eyes. He had an inquisitive look about him. The last person on the left was younger looking than the other two men, maybe a couple of years older than Yannish. His head was quite melon shaped but that was mostly down to the skin head hair cut he had. He had sad looking face and was staring at the fire in front of the three.
“We need a favour, come here…please?” spoke the large ginger man.
“How do you know my name?”
“Look, we know Tommy. He sometimes comes to see us for favours and one day we got talking, well yesterday, and he told us about you. We didn’t know it was you at first but as soon as we realised it was the guy we throw food at. Well, in a way I was a bit embarrassed. We won’t throw food at you anymore and in fact as you’re a friend of Tommy’s you must be of good character.”
“I never knew Tommy comes down here. Why don’t you ask him to help you I’ve got to go to work? And Besides why should I do a favour for people that throw stuff at me and scare me shitless every time I walk past them.”
“As I mentioned before we won’t be throwing things at you any longer. It was George who did it anyway but we all apologise.” The ginger man coiled his fingers to point at the younger guy who was still staring at the fire like a boy day dreaming his life through school. Tommy never comes down here, he doesn’t know we reside in these parts. And we would appreciate it if you didn’t tell him as well.
Yannish thinking that they were entrusting him with a secret decided to trust them slightly in return and made a few steps towards their direction. “What do you want?”
“We only want you to buy us beer from your garage and bring it to us.”
“Why can’t you buy it yourselves?”
“Please Yannish come sit with us, I don’t like asking favours without you getting to know who is asking them.”
Yannish made his way over to them.
“I’m Conrad” said the ginger man. “And this is Peter” indicating to the man with the glasses.
“Hello, Yannish. Nice to see you again.” Said Peter.
“And this young man is George.” Said Conrad.
“Umm, yeah hi. So when are you going to get us some beer?” rasped George.
“Quiet! You can’t expect him to do things at the click of your fingers. Not your fingers for sure, have you been trying to scoop things out of the public toilet again?” Retorted Conrad looking disdainfully at George.
Having heard Conrad’s comment Yannish glanced at George’s dirty mud covered hands. He was wearing fingerless gloves with the seams spiralling everywhere. Month old dirt must have been entrenched in those long fingernails. George saw Yannish looking and quickly retracted his hands from view and coiled slightly signalling his embarrassment.
“George, before we set Yannish off he is probably wondering who we are and where we come from. So let’s enlighten him a little. We are Blair’s rejects.”
“Yannish.”
Yannish, carried on walking ignoring the sound he thought was his name.
“Yannish, Oi Yannish, come over here.”
The gruffly sounding voice definitely said his name.
“What do you want?” replied Yannish turning round. He could see the three of them sitting but leaning against the slope of the bridge. The one who called out was in the middle. He had a thick beard that terrorised the bottom half of his face with its wild strands. And where the strands ended on the bottom half of his face his long greasy ginger hair would touch and entwine with them from above forming some sort of barrier all around him. His face looked hard with wrinkles visible on his forehead encrusted with the white colour of dryness or cold. His small but focused eyes stared intently at Yannish and relaxed a little when Yannish met his stare and exposed his brown tarnished teeth. Yannish took this as an attempt to smile at him. The other two men were sitting either side of him their bodies slightly turned towards him to almost form a semi circle. The man on the right had long straight but also greasy brown hair. He had glasses with lenses that seemed to be steamed up and was perched at the end of his nose. He too was staring at Yannish but not through the glasses but with his own eyes. He had an inquisitive look about him. The last person on the left was younger looking than the other two men, maybe a couple of years older than Yannish. His head was quite melon shaped but that was mostly down to the skin head hair cut he had. He had sad looking face and was staring at the fire in front of the three.
“We need a favour, come here…please?” spoke the large ginger man.
“How do you know my name?”
“Look, we know Tommy. He sometimes comes to see us for favours and one day we got talking, well yesterday, and he told us about you. We didn’t know it was you at first but as soon as we realised it was the guy we throw food at. Well, in a way I was a bit embarrassed. We won’t throw food at you anymore and in fact as you’re a friend of Tommy’s you must be of good character.”
“I never knew Tommy comes down here. Why don’t you ask him to help you I’ve got to go to work? And Besides why should I do a favour for people that throw stuff at me and scare me shitless every time I walk past them.”
“As I mentioned before we won’t be throwing things at you any longer. It was George who did it anyway but we all apologise.” The ginger man coiled his fingers to point at the younger guy who was still staring at the fire like a boy day dreaming his life through school. Tommy never comes down here, he doesn’t know we reside in these parts. And we would appreciate it if you didn’t tell him as well.
Yannish thinking that they were entrusting him with a secret decided to trust them slightly in return and made a few steps towards their direction. “What do you want?”
“We only want you to buy us beer from your garage and bring it to us.”
“Why can’t you buy it yourselves?”
“Please Yannish come sit with us, I don’t like asking favours without you getting to know who is asking them.”
Yannish made his way over to them.
“I’m Conrad” said the ginger man. “And this is Peter” indicating to the man with the glasses.
“Hello, Yannish. Nice to see you again.” Said Peter.
“And this young man is George.” Said Conrad.
“Umm, yeah hi. So when are you going to get us some beer?” rasped George.
“Quiet! You can’t expect him to do things at the click of your fingers. Not your fingers for sure, have you been trying to scoop things out of the public toilet again?” Retorted Conrad looking disdainfully at George.
Having heard Conrad’s comment Yannish glanced at George’s dirty mud covered hands. He was wearing fingerless gloves with the seams spiralling everywhere. Month old dirt must have been entrenched in those long fingernails. George saw Yannish looking and quickly retracted his hands from view and coiled slightly signalling his embarrassment.
“George, before we set Yannish off he is probably wondering who we are and where we come from. So let’s enlighten him a little. We are Blair’s rejects.”
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