Mistakes

Mistakes are actions taken when reflecting back you realise that perhaps wasn’t the best action to take. It pains me that the Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police absolutely refuses to resign over the handling of the mistaken killing of Jean Charles de Menezes. The reason being, for the time being that there were no ‘systematic’ failures (mistakes) made by the Met following the Independent Police Complaints Commission (IPCC) findings. I’m not going to criticise The Met too much. Its employee’s put their lives at risk daily. It’s hard now to imagine how London and England was feeling when the July 7th bombings went off in the capital. There was no question we were all anxious and vulnerable as it had been many years since a bomb went off in the country. For some police officers (probably Special Forces, as well) it was the first time they found themselves hunting terrorists so they probably were feeling the same too. However, I can still point out some failings in the fateful operation that killed Mr Charles de Menezes.

Failure 1
Why was there only one person watching the block of flats that the suspected terrorists were occupying. It turns out that while agent X was relieving himself in the bathroom, Mr Charles de Menezes left his flat to go to work so identification could not have been made by agent X which would have ruled him out as a terrorist.

Failure 2
While police were pursuing Mr Charles de Menezes they followed him around town and saw him get on a bus. I may be a simpleton but shouldn’t suicide bombers be prevented from entering crowded enclosed areas, such as a Double-Decker bus? If they had stopped him then in the streets, his death perhaps could have been avoided?

Failure 3
The police should not have let Mr Charles de Menezes enter the tube station if they considered him a danger for the same reasons as Failure 2. But also because by doing so they had to enter and cut themselves off from HQ communication as their radios didn’t work underground. Allegedly, the operations leader realised that they were about to apprehend an innocent man but was unable to notify her team or Special Forces until they were back outside. And as you know by then he had already been killed.

There are probably more failures that could be highlighted but these three failures are to me an example of systematic failings and therefore by your own admission as to why you are not resigning, you should step down Ian. You’ve got crap PR and everyone is very cagey about The Met which is not what they need when they are trying to catch real terrorists.

Be gone.


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“How are you Peter?”

“I am quite fine Charles, and yourself?”

“As well as can be expected.”

“Excellent, well would you be ever so kind and stop shaking my hand I believe it’s going to fall off if you carry on like that.”

Charles let him go and tried to snarl at him but instead found himself smiling almost chuckling at him. He turned to Semmi who was gazing straight back at him.

“Hi Semmi, how are you doing these days?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine Charles.” She turned her head ending the conversation and started to talk to Marla. Now that the pleasantries were executed the sisters would be nattering for a long time leaving the two males to converse.

Charles seats himself and realises that in front of him is a couple of hours of verbal jousting with the delightful Peter who has the tendency to keep flicking his brown greasy hair back and straight afterwards push his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose even if they haven’t sloped down towards the tip.

“Now Charles, what have you been up to the last few months?” says Peter pushing his glasses up again.

“Nothing much really just been working hard to make sure Marla and I are able to live a good life.”

“You two do live quite a good life. Not a rich lifestyle by any means but one that is considered affluent in this type of neighbourhood. The insurance business must be doing very well is it not Charles?”


“Yes the insurance business is doing just fine Peter. Just fine.”

“You know, I’ve got some property that needs insuring and wanted to come to your branch but realised that I didn’t know where you work or for what branch you are based.”

“Good evening ladies and gentleman, are you ready to order? Can I get you some drinks?” Said the waiter who was standing just behind Marla and Charles. His beaming smile was well appreciated by Charles who thought he was about to find himself in a sticky situation with the inquisitive Peter.

“Can I have the Goan vegetable curry please.” Said Semmi who neatly closed the menu and passed it back to the waiter.

“I’ll have that too.” Replied Peter who hadn’t even bothered to open up his menu and had his eyes firmly fixed on Charles.

“Can I have the Korma.” Said Marla placing the menu on the waiter’s hand. The waiter’s eyes quickly illuminated at noticing the beauty of her.

Charles knew he was going to ask for the Jalfrezi it was what he always had when he had an Indian meal but he needed to use the time given to him by the waiter to think of a good response to Peter’s questions. He realised that answering his questions directly would only formulate more from the hole of the pompous prick. All peter said was full of alternative meanings, undertones of disbelief in what Charles was telling him. Charles knew that Peter was setting a trap and that he wasn’t clever enough to wriggle out of it head on. He considered getting Peter to the toilets and smacking him about a bit, perhaps even flushing that greasy mane in the toilet for a clean. But he couldn’t do that, no matter what explanation he gave to Marla she would just blame him and accuse him of ruining her night. Semmi would just look at him in disgust while comforting the beloved Peter. Where the fuck did Peter come from any way. He was a ghost who just appeared.

Operation Ipod

‘twas only May that I decided to purchase an Ipod. For many years people had been quite passionate about the Ipod being the best MP3 player around and weren’t afraid to tell me this. For many years I abstained, thinking my £7.99 mp3 player was more than sufficient. People would even tell that if they had it stolen and or it broke they would replace it straightaway. So when I left my jacket in the rain and my Ipod in the jacket pocket I soon realised that I actually adore this piece of plastic. It was the collection I had amassed, the collection I was amassing which made me rummage in my pocket incessantly until I picked up the soaked player. I noticed that the screen was on and that it was still functioning but something didn’t look right. And it wasn’t. After about 5 minutes the battery died and so did my collection of tunes. The battery was gone and needed replacing so I searched the net looking for an Ipod battery but all were offering a battery in conjunction with their fitting services which totalled around £50. This is a bit steep for me so I continued searching until I finally found a site that sold the Ipod video battery for under £15 with £5 p&p. Of course they offered a fitting service and of course it was very expensive and so I decided to install the new battery myself using the websites installation instructions.

First thing I had to do was prise open the casing using tools provided with the battery which I managed to do. Then I had to carefully pull them apart with out ripping the headphone and battery connectors. Next, I had to unlock the battery connecter which was quite tricky but luckily I had many years of practice with stuff like this from the hours spent playing Operation as a boy. After that I was able to lay the metal case next to the white cover. I then prised open the battery and replaced it with a new one, sliding the connecter cable in until it locked. I carefully placed the pod together making sure the hard drive didn’t fall out as I clasped the two cases in place. I tentatively turned it on, half expecting the battery icon not to appear, half expecting nothing to happen at all. But some how it all worked, everything turned on, everything functioned correctly and now I can walk around with a beat to my step as I blast the tunes from my pod. I win, today!!!!

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“Why don’t you choke them a little?” She once asked.

He’d never thought of that and told her he’d do that on his next job. And from then on she’d advise him on what injuries to inflict and he would carry them out. Smacking knee caps, punching the kidneys she really got turned on by the fact she was helping out by telling him how to beat up people. But she liked to hear about a lot of blood spilling the most and so he always made sure they were punched in the mouth. Just the cause of how they met. When punching his victims he often thought that this might be a blessing in disguise for them, just like it was for him.

They pulled up at Janpur’s Indian restaurant, not a word had been said in the car.

“You better not ruin tonight Charlie.”

“I’m not going to ruin tonight, you stupid girl I’m not out to ruin your beloved night. I’m here to enjoy the food then piss off home for a bit.”

“I want you to be nice to my sister. She is always nice to you but you, you just spit in her face all the time. I’m surprised she even talks to me.”

“I’m not going to bloody well spit in her face. Your sister is mental, she goes round in a Volkswagen camper van trying to save the world from pollution but she’s doing more harm than good driving round in that heap of crap. That must give off so much bad fumes. And this latest activitist group thing she’s involved in, what cause are they fighting for again?”


“They’re fighting against underground fox hunting. What they’re called I can’t remember. She’s my only sister, and I know her lifestyle habits are disgusting but it’s not her fault she’s like this. I feel sorry for her, I should have been around her more while she was growing up. Instead I was shagging you all over town so our stepfather got to her with his ways and views.”

“Don’t go blaming me about the state of your family. If it wasn’t for me you’d probably be sharing that camper van with your sister right now. Probably going halves with that Peter guy she’s seeing. Knowing you, you’d go first and make her watch and then have sloppy seconds. So don’t start trying to rant at me about the state of your sister.”

“Alright, alright, look just don’t cause an argument or make her or Peter cry.”

“I want to kick the shit of out him.”

“No!”

“Yes, I know. She’s your sister’s partner. I’m not going to do it, but when they break up I’m gonna hunt him down.”

“Alright, let’s go and don’t ruin my dinner, alright?”

They got out of the car and Charles could smell the pungent smell of Indian food straight away. He inhaled passionately so that he could tease his appetite even more. They walk into Janpur’s and Marla immediately saw Semmi sitting with Peter. Semmi saw her sister and waved her over so that they could join them. Charles noticed she was wearing a green army jacket with a Germany flag stitched on the right of her shoulder but completely coloured in in black. He couldn’t think why and before he got a chance to ask Peter was standing in front of him shoving his open hand in Charles’s gut. Charles slightly a taken back by the prod in his abdomen quickly realised who it was and quickly hooked onto Peter’s hand began shaking it with some force.

Francoiz Breut

At the moment Francoiz Breut is helping me get through these horrible days. Has anyone else noticed that by 4:30pm it’s completely dark outside? I have, and when I look outside from the window at work I get sad. No one wants to go to work when it’s dark and leave when it’s dark. All the best hours are spent working for the man, so luckily I’m privileged enough to be near a window and be able to listen to Francoiz Breut. She is a French singing artist that creates great slow beats with a sultry voice layered over the top. I love the French accent so I’m constantly purring at work when I start listening to her. For more information check out the Wikipedia link: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fran%C3%A7oiz_Breut

In other news I’ve just procured season 6 of Family Guy. I’m half way through the second disc and as always I’m finding it utterly hilarious. However, I’ve noticed a few things with this series. The first is that they swear quite nonchalantly now which came a bit of a shock. Secondly there aren’t as many episodes in this series as there was in the last, it seems they are slowly creating less and less and still classing it as a series. Either way Stewie Griffin is still having me cracking up al over the place and occasionally getting out a dictionary.

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Even though he was suspicious he never really entertained the idea further. Never thought about it more, like who could it be, were they male or female, where did they meet? Instead he turned his attention into locating his keys. He rummaged through his pockets until his fingers touched the serrated metal of his car keys, he pulled them out and started the car and they drove off. He turned his head to see Marla still in a state of anger, she was leaning against the window just looking straight ahead. “Bitch.” He murmured to himself as he turned back to focus on the road.

He had met her when he went to visit the dentist 16 years ago. He had lost a tooth and at least chipped three of them the previous night. He quickly ran home and looked in the local paper for an emergency dentist, no one would see him at that time of the night and all suggested the hospital. He was well accustomed with the hospital’s A&E and didn’t fancy being in the company of drunks, overdosed addicts and other people suffering grievances. Finally a dentist did agree to see him but he would have to wait until morning. So he sat in his flat till morning, using cotton wool to clog up the bleeding that was coming from the missing tooth. He played Sammy Davie Jr records to help sooth the pain.

When he arrived at the dentist he was shown to his room and that’s when he saw Marla. She was a dental nurse. Charles, felt the attraction straight away, he lusted after her as soon as he walked in to the room. Wearing her tight all white uniform only intensified his already pulsating carnal instincts. He noticed that he had an affect on her but wasn’t sure what it was that was causing her redden in the face. He could only think it was because he looked like a rugged man, one that was able to endure pain and be able to protect her if needed. The testosterone with in him was rife now and he puffed up his chest and introduced himself as Charlie. The first time he had ever called himself that.

He was right in thinking she was attracted to his hard image. She adored his skin head and the fact he had lost a few teeth made her mind burst with visions on how he lost them. She loved that rugged dangerous man and she felt she had finally found everything she wanted in one package apart from a missing tooth.

Their relationship intensified when he revealed just what sort of activities he got up to. She loved the idea he was breaking the law, that he was going out one night and coming back a couple of days later with his pockets full with bank notes that would easily pair their rent and live the most luxurious lifestyle of all the tenants of the Dennison blocks of flats. He would tell her how they would select a lorry and follow it a few days, learn it’s route and the driver’s habits like where he stopped for a break, if he visited a prostitute. They would then decide when was best to strike and Charles would always be the one to inflict the damage, he was strong, stronger than the others and that was his contribution to the gang. She would hang on his every word, look at him tentatively until he described what he do to his victims, break their noses, crack their jaws.

The Arachnid and I

I was strolling to work the other day I felt something brush my hair. I rummaged around with my hand and felt something scurry across the back of it. I jumped back startled even though it was only a slightly feeling I knew that it was some bug type thing. It then scuttled its way back into my hair causing me to use both hands to try and force it out of my hair. I was careful not to encourage it to venture in any of my ear holes because the last thing I would want is a spider taking refuge in my lug hole, especially after seeing a naff 70s horror movie about such a thing. In the film a killer spider makes a nest in a lady’s ear and eventually thousands of tiny spiders are released when the hairdresser cutting her hair accidentally cuts open a lump on her head. It was horrifically disgusting and because of this I was mindful to cover them up with my thumb. I looked like an idiot but the thought of a spider in my hair made me feel really agitated so I rubbed profusely around my hair until I felt it back on my hand again and then I flicked my hand quickly back up making the little spider launch high into the air and land a few metres away in the grass. I brushed myself down regained my composure and then noticed the frightened look of an old lady walking her dog after witnessing this event.

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“Alright, alright I’m coming just give me a moment.” Said Charles sitting bolt upright on the toilet seat. He pulled the chain so that it looked like he had been to the toilet, stood up and looked at his gaunt hollow eyes that stared back at him in the mirror. Then he stepped outside to see Marla, his wife, stand just outside like a Hyena stalking its prey. He swore, she looked like she was bearing her teeth at him.

“Why, oh why, Charlie, that every time I arrange something for us both to go to, you try everything you can to screw it up. You think by locking yourself in that toilet everything will go away. Well it won’t, and I don’t want to be late any longer, I’ve arranged dinner with my sister for two weeks now and if you think we’re not going to go because you can hide in the toilet you’re wrong.”

“ I was in the toilet to be at one with my thoughts. I wanted to think for myself without you nattering away at me.”

“I don’t give a shit Charlie.” Marla looked at him up and down, noticing that he was wearing his pink shirt, although slightly crinkled, easily acceptable at the Indian restaurant they were visiting. He still didn’t have his shoes on but he looked like he was ready to go.

“Look, I said I was going to come to your crappy meal even though that bum of her boyfriend Peter is going to be there. He fucking stinks and yet I’m willing to put up with his bad breath and body odour to keep you happy. And you won’t. You won’t, even give me five minutes to spend some time with myself.”

“Why, were you masturbating?”

“No! You know I wasn’t. Now I’m coming but I can’t do anything with you standing right in my face spewing out your frustrations, now move.” Charles, decided the conversation had now ended and barged past Marla making her stumble as he stomped past. He went to the wardrobe to find his shoes, remembering he’s got a meeting with Gregor later on tonight. He really didn’t want to meet up with him tonight, he couldn’t stand him but yet he felt obliged, no, felt ashamed as he was commanded by Gregor to meet with him tonight and he knew he’d turn up.

“Fuck!” Shouted Charles flinging his shoes across the room at the realisation of the thought. Even though that was hours away he also still had to endure the forthcoming meal. His dark thoughts had left him now but only to be replaced with trivial mundane duties. He wondered what was more tormenting.

They both got into the car. Marla, silent but her face glowing red in fury. Charles looked at her, admiring her wavy long brown hair, her upright nose that was the focal point of her beautiful face. He loved her but he just couldn’t stand her attitude, he was sure she was having an affair with someone else.

Halloween

Yep, it’s the spookiest time of the year again. Where the little children knock on your door demanding sweets and the not so little children knock demanding money. Where I work the canteen people have been running a competition for scariest looking pumpkin. You have to present your pumpkin to them and the one they think gives them the shivers the most will win a free meal. Not bad I thought considering a meal there will cost you about £3.50. However it was my face that looked scary when I was browsing through the grocery store when I saw pumpkins for sale at £4. They weren’t even organic ones as well!

Enough of my shock on the cost of pumpkins, here’s some prose to check out if you wish.

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Charles was sitting on the toilet seat now, he pulled out a packet of cigarettes looked at the shiny gold box twinkle in the bottom left corner and then crushed it. He crumpled the box in the palm of his hand and threw it to the ground. He leaned back against the toilet to relax and help his memory carry on flowing.

He smacked the bank manager with the butt of his pistol repeatedly, whilst screaming various expletives at him. He remembered how Gregor had to lunge over from the front seat and stop him from carrying on. The driver, Davey pulled out on to a field where they pulled over briefly pulled the bank manager out and Charles smacked him one more time across the jaw so that as he hit the ground red coloured saliva came spluttering out of his mouth. He lay on the grass motionless. Charles and Gregor jumped back in the car and they carried off across the grass. Gregor looked at Charles is disgust.

“Hey, Charlie boy! Couldn’t be bothered to frisk him, no? Thought your self too good to check his pockets, eh? You think yourself the big man do ya, that you didn’t consider this man an intelligent one? Didn’t bother to consider it no? Or, did you forget Charlie? You forgot to frisk him didn’t you? We’ve spent three months planning this, all of us knew what we had to do, we memorised it, what route to take and where to meet up, how long we should be in the bank, where to deposit the cash, everything. And now it’s for nothing, absolutely nothing and all because you, yes you, forgot to check that liver spotted, white collar piece of shit. And now you’ve cost us £30,000 each. Our money is gone and it’s all because of your stupidity.”

Charles couldn’t even look at Gregor. He stared at the floor feeling the anger starting to rise up within him. It was his own anger, his own doing. He couldn’t blame anyone but himself. He noticed the mobile phone on the floor and picked it up before snapping it cleanly in two.

They ditched the car as they neared woodland and decided to split their separate ways and not contact each other for two weeks.

Charles, regretted bringing that memory up again, he could feel the shame shower all over him again. How could he of been so idiotic? And Gregor never let him forget, never. He despised Gregor for many years but no matter how much he wanted to rid himself of the lanky balding scum, Gregor would always manage to weave his way back into his life. However, Charlie never told Gregor he never wanted to have anything to do with him again. He avoided that. The reason being was that to do anything illegal he required his craftiness to execute any job. They both knew this and for that reason Charles never took charge of any job they planned. He craved to take the lead but every time he tried Gregor would just take over, mock him in some why to douse his confidence and then manipulate his why into being in charge.

“Fuck sakes Charlie. We’ll be late.” Said Marla banging on the door.

Phillip

Don't you think it's strange when your mind drifts off into an absent abyss only to return with a poignant message that stays in your mind for the rest of the day?

I was eating my Cheerios this morning reading the Grauniad newspaper when I came across an article about the England team’s rugby success. This led me to think about when I played rugby at middle school, where we couldn’t even afford the posts so we couldn’t ever convert tries or penalties. At the time I was a winger and was considered quite a good player. However I did face stiff competition from Philip. He was a really nice guy, and even though my memories of him are hazy I remember him being someone of integrity which was something most 12 year olds didn’t even know was a word let alone have it.

Phillip’s father was an English teacher at our school who would strike terror amongst us with his large glaring eyes and Neanderthal style beard. He was a teacher that told you if you were good but had no problem telling you if you were bad with school work and I liked that style of teaching. However, there were rumours going round at the time that he was having an affair with another teacher. Every body talked about it and the gossip was rife through class to class and year to year. We all were mesmerised with the idea that the two teachers were at it, either in the store cupboard, class room or even the headmaster’s desk. The rumours just got wilder and stupid but it was lapped up by us all. But none of us thought about Phillip.

He must have been aware of these rumours as they were soon becoming playground lore. Not once did he shout at anyone for spreading them. Not once did he break down in public over them. He didn’t even leave the school. This is something I find quite admirable, that a boy of 12 could deal with such an emotional issue so well. I don’t think many others could. I certainly couldn’t and even though I don’t know him anymore I respect him so much now.

I realised that I had my spoon dangling in the air when my mind decided to return to its head. I quickly finished up and set off to work thinking about what Phillip had to put up with and what on earth is he doing now.

I’ve managed to bash out some prose for you to dabble with if you wish.


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Charles Kennedy, stood looking at the mirror. He stared at his reflection, seeing his hair line growing perilously higher every time he saw himself. His blue eyes looked back at himself seeing his lips curling downwards. He hated himself. Not purely for the fact he had entered middle age and what he saw before him wouldn’t stir the loins of a nymphomaniac who had consumed a nets catch of oysters. He hated what was within, his angry temper, his devious mind that had been nurtured well over the years by performing a plethora of crimes ranging from stealing the hub caps of a Ford Cortina to armed robbery at various small shops and garages. He once tried to rob a bank. He was younger then, even greedier than he was today and a lot less experienced. They followed the bank manager for weeks finding out his journey home his, the route he took, how long it took and what alternative ones he used. Then one day when they were ready to rob the bank they followed him in a car and over took him and once they were on a one lane road stopped the car forcing the bank manager to stop his. Three of them put on balaclavas got out advanced on the car with shot guns pointing in his direction. They thought that was the hard part, capturing the bank manager. From there they could get the right details, force him to make the right calls and the money would be there’s. However, they didn’t consider the wiliness of this particular bank manager. Although to them he looked terrified and the urination stains on his trousers only made them think he will comply with anything. He let them easily pull him out of the car, threaten him of the consequences while shoving a gun in his mouth so far back that he started to gag. He nodded to their every demand eagerly. What they didn’t anticipate was that while they approached the car the bank manager dialled 999 on his mobile and popped it in his suit jacket pocket. They set off in their car towards the bank. The bank manager started to wail “I can’t believe you’re robbing the bank, my bank on Chester Street. Why not another, and why do you four have to bring guns with you. I just can’t believe it.”

“Shut it.” Said Charles.

“I just don’t want to die. Not like this, not here on a country road off Toddsbury.”

Charles sitting next to him grabbed him by the chin and pulled his face close to his.

“If you don’t shut up, I’ll shoot your testicles off. Got it.”

It appeared to silence the bank manager who only nodded solemnly, Charles let him go and he turned his head forward, his body rigid.

Within five minutes the police siren sounds could be heard near by. All of them looked at each other for some sort of explanation as to why they were now being chased by the police.

Charles looked at Gregor.

“Don’t look at me for an answer. Did you frisk him? Did you check his pockets?”

Immediately Charles realised his bumbling error. How could he forget to check his pockets, even ask if he was carrying anything. Feeling embarrassed and angry with himself he lunged at the bank manager smacking him on the face with his right fist while his left hand grabbed his jacket. The mobile popped out from the pocket and landed on Charles’s lap. The 999 number illuminated in blue on the screen.

Exhaustion

I haven’t really done myself any favours recently. As the seasonal cold bug starts to infect the office it is only a matter of time before you are next on its list. So on Sunday I woke up with a bit of a sore throat and the sniffles. This didn’t stop me from deciding to go for a 3 mile run which upon my return only intensified my ever growing cold. On Monday I woke up still feeling under the weather when I remembered I promised one of my work colleagues I'd play him at squash so I packed my kit begrudgingly and set off to work.

The squash game was rather intense with me prevailing 2-1 in games but not without playing so hard that when I looked at the wall I thought I saw stars. The next morning my cold was still lurking within me waiting to strike me down when I realised that I had a touch-rugby game. Once again I packed my kit thinking maybe I should take a rest. We lost the game 3-1 and I spent the rest of the afternoon trying to keep my eyes open as I looked at the computer. As I am writing this my body is completely stiff and I feel run down and it is all my fault so I’m not going to do anything else until next Tuesday when I have another touch-rugby game.

Being unable to move due to sore muscles has enabled me to write some more prose. Check it out at your leisure.

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“Yannish?”

“Yannish?”

Yannish’s opened his left eye wearily to see a dark silhouette of a man leaning over him. He could feel his head swaying from within.

“Give me that can.” Said the voice of the silhouette.

He could hear a slight struggle going on above him but finding himself unable to move he lay there. Suddenly he heard a squeal and then a can being opened and all of a sudden gushes of cold beer landing in his mouth, his eyes and up his nostrils. His immediate reaction was to lean forward so that no more beer would its way into anymore vulnerable orifices. Coughing up beer that managed to tickle his throat on his way down he squinted his eyes to see Peter standing in front of him.

“There, I knew that would rouse you. Harsh, I know, but I needed to know whether you were severely injured. Trust me, it was debated whether to waste such favoured liquid on waking you up but then Conrad pointed out that a dead body would only attract unwanted attention. And so if that was the case we’d of had to move you somewhere. With gloves of course.”

Yannish, saw Conrad and George walk into his focus. His head was rattling and the swaying in the head was still there but the sudden jolt of action had stimulated his mind again and he was beginning to gain his senses.

“Where did you find me?”

“Here stupid.” Retorted George.

“Yes, we found you laying here. In fact we believed you to be dead, it was only until I checked your pulse that I realised that you had just been knocked unconscious. So are you going to tell us what happened?” Said Conrad as he started to walk around Yannish.
What happened…what happened? Were the words rolling through Yannish’s mind. As they continued to flash past pictures of the night’s events popped into his head.

“I was running after someone. I wanted to see where they were going. I knew that if they got to the wood I wouldn’t be able to keep up with them anymore. But he turned round and I got scared so ducked. I got scared because he had a gun. Why did he have a gun?”

“I don’t know, but why were you chasing someone that had a gun?” Asked Peter, in an inquisitive tone.

“Shit. The garage. It was robbed.”

“Pardon?” said Peter.

The adrenaline flowed through his body once again as if it were a prize for remembering what had happened. Yannish started to stand up, his legs shaking but he was able to get up.

“The man, I was chasing, he robbed the garage. I’ve got to get back and see how Clarence is doing.”

The moment he thought he had died was now clear in his head. He wanted to see Clarence, see she was alright and also because he didn’t want to be alone. He didn’t like seeing that moment in his head, replaying in slow motion.

“You can’t go back there you’ve barely enough strength to walk back.” Said Conrad looking at him with some concern.

“I need to go.” And as he said that Yannish pushed himself to start walking. Very slowly he managed a few steps before his knees buckled and finds himself crumpled on the floor.

Admitting defeat, he lies back on the ground and begins to touch the source of pain. The bruise is bubbling nicely on his forehead and when touched sends an excruciating jolt of anguish through him.

“Did you guys, hear a gun shot? There was a shot from the garage. He didn’t want to kill us, he wanted to terrify us. Make sure we were broken humans, our spirits snapped or at least stretched to breaking point. The fucker.”

“Look what you need is to go to the hospital.” We can help you get you there.

“No, I want to go back to the garage, I want to see Clarence.” He wanted to see the garage, to see exactly what state it was in when he left. He wanted to go to the office and see the remaining bits of the safe and the table which he crashed on.

“Please, help me get back to the garage.”

“There will be police there. You know how we all feel about the law.”

“Look just help me up to the top of the heath and I’ll make me own way down there. You don’t need to worry about the police. It’s the fucking police who are likely to find this stranger, who could easily still be out there watching us all. It’s them who have the skills to catch him, catch him before he tries anything like this again.”

There was a silence.

“Ok, George help him up.”

Yannish felt weary now, it was only a ten minute walk but it seemed so very long. George was a ruthless carrier and flung him from side to side. Peter and Conrad walked behind him, he could see in both their eyes that they wanted to talk to him but respected the fact he wanted to return to the garage. Yannish himself thought it strange he craved so much to go back, he’d rather go there first than seek medical help or go home. He knew that the feeling of terror was still within him, he’d never felt so scared for his life, his life was snatched from him by this masked stranger and it was up to the clown to decide if he was to die tonight.

“That’s far enough George.” Said Yannish.

George put him back down and walked back over to Conrad and Peter.

“I’ll come back to see you three. I don’t know when as you can see I’m a bit of a state both in appearance and in mind. But we’ll chat. Thank you George for carrying my down.”

“Ok Yannish.” Said Conrad.

Yannish turned round and started to hobble his way down the heath, past the bushes until he could see blue flashing emanating from below. He followed the light, letting gravity pull him further down until he was at standing at the garage forecourt. He looked at the garage, the lights were back on and the place seemed alive full of policemen. Seeing the building like this settled him down inside again.