Double Scotch

By Dandi Broad

OKAY, so I'm like readin' and readin' these days since The Pusher got me this job.

But I'm thinkin' if I'm gonna do this it gotta be done right, right?

It's like when Joanie and Chachi left Happy Days, they didn't go dropping lines or nuthin'. Uh-uh. Be professional or forget about it's what The Pusher done told me.

And I'm a pro, right?

I got two men with me right now at Pusher Towers - Scotch-men - lemme explain, that ain't like a bourbon man or a gin drinker, they's from a place in England called after the Scotch, name'a Scotch-land. But enough already, lets get down to business.

So, Mr McBride, I'd like to talk to you first...hang on...Ray, honey-pie! Make y'self comfortable - just stay away from The Pusher's gun-rack huh...he keeps 'em loaded.

So, likes I say, I been findin' out all about Scotch-land - you got a Rabbi Burns there right?

The eyes! What's with the eye-rollin', huh? Okay, enough already. We gonna do this or what?

Better. Better...

DB: So, welcome to Pusher Towers, Mr MacBride.

SM: Are you sure you’re a nun? I specifically requested a nun.

DB: Don't get fresh with me, cowboy...I got Mace in my bag and I ain't afraid to use it, let's get that clear from the get go!

SM: Ah I like a woman who’s not afraid of medieval weaponry. I used to know someone who kept a siege tower down the front of her blouse and a trebuchet in her knickers. Strange lady, but made a lovely tuna casserole.

DB: Man, you a smooth tawker...but you know the boundaries now, right?

SM: Would you like me to spank you now or later?

DB: Okay. Okay. Enough already, let's us tawk about Broken Skin. Now I had me a pair a these Mooks pumps once, and man, did they rub..broken skin hurts, huh?

SM: Only if you’re doing it right. Anyway, I think we’re supposed to be talking about the book, BROKEN SKIN (available from all good bookshops - any that don’t have it, they’re crap bookshops and will give you diseases and your arse will rot and fall off like a mouldy cheeseburger), unless you’d like to cut out the chit-chat and get straight to the spanking?

DB: O-o-o-h-k-a-a-a-y...I guess I'm like, such a dufus, but The Pusher he smart, uh-huh, and he told me this about y'book...

“Broken Skin itches for attention like a bad dose of something nasty...painful to pick up but impossible to put down. One dark novel that scratches away at the seedy underside of an infectious world of sex, murder and mayhem.”

- The Pusher

SM: Mmm, pretty, pretty words. Normally I just describe it as 439 pages of violent filth.

DB: Well, I did some readin' of y'book, Mack and I got a couple observations of my own...you ready f'this?

SM: Is this where you put on the nun's costume and sing ‘The Hills Are Alive’? … And it’s “MAC-Bride”. That kind of talk also leads to spanking, but not the good kind.

DB: Whatever. So, first off, I'm like twenty or thirty pages in and I found – Liquorice Allsorts, Penguin biscuits, Jaffa Cakes, chips, bacon butties, Irn-Bru, tomato-sauce crisps...I could go on but I won't - you see where I'm going with this dontcha?

SM: Does it involve lubricant?

DB: I'm onto your wise old ass...you jammin' in all that food 'n' stuff with all the blood and gore cuz you wanna make the reader hurl, I'm right? 

SM: Nothing worse than being sick on an empty stomach. The great thing about Liquorice Allsorts is that you get all these violently-coloured bits of confectionary squirting out your nose. It burns, but it’s pretty.

DB: Man, I was ready to blow chunks, near popped my cookies all over the nice white pages of y'book!

SM: Now you see: there’s your problem, cookies. If you’d have stuck with the recommended confectionary you wouldn’t have a chocolate chip stuck to your top lip…at least I assume it’s a chocolate chip.

DB: You done never seen Marilyn Monroe! Enough already, I got more to ask you about this book, Mr MacBride...there's a football player in there and you got him down as a rapist from the first - now where do you get off on a wild idea like that? It's fiction, I know, but a football player rapist, purleeze!

SM: You think it’s a bit far fetched because he’s the only one, don’t you? I was going to have a gang of them, but there were copyright problems with the English Premier League. I think running around wearing all those cheap-arse fabrics (nylon shorts etc.) causes a build-up of static electricity in their gonads and that short-circuits their tiny, little brains.

DB: Okay. Okay. We about done, I just gotta couple questions I been told to ask ya. First off, you stay a place called Aberdeen right?

SM: You mean “God’s Country”.

DB: Is it true you can only buy button-fly pants there...on account of the noise a zipper makes scares the sheep?

SM: You’re back looking at that ‘not the good kind of spanking’ again.

DB: I didn't believe that none. Was a letter from a guy in Dundee-shire said I should ask you that...that and about lightin' cigarettes in pockets or sumthin'...okay. Okay. My last question is - and this ain't for me you understand - but where would you get hold of a copy of James Bondage From Rubber With Love?

SM: You can tell the Pusher that Crocodildo productions are having difficulty with their website at the moment - something about naked pictures of Gloria Hunniford and Anne Widdecombe being against the obscene publications act and the laws of God and nature - but they’re still doing the mail-order business. Order now and you can get 50% off Harriet Potter and the Gobbler of Firemen!

DB: Hmnn...50% y'say. Well, anyway, thanks for droppin by, Mr MacBride, I like your style!

SM: You’re very welcome. Now, about that nun’s outfit…

DB: I'll give yah freakin' nun's outfit, hell I had worse habits...

Okay, Ray honey...I'll take you now, but wipe that smirk off - what's the matter, you ain't never seen a 12-gauge before?

RB: Oh, I’ve seen a 12-gauge. My missus has one, and she’s a jealous woman, Dandi, so be careful. I’m a batteries-in-a-sock kinda guy, myself.

DB: You lucky The Pusher's fetchin' a trailer from the border...he don't like no-one messin' with his firearms. But never mind 'bout that...I got a bug up my ass after readin' your book...248 pages and there ain't no Goddam donkey!

RB: Yup. No donkey, but plenty of punches. So I’m only half a liar.

DB: Ray, I ain't that big a dumbass! I know what the book's about, cuz The Pusher done told me this:

“Ray Banks knocks out another round of hard-hitting prose that will leave lesser writers face down on the canvas, gasping for breath at its sheer brilliance! The gloves are off this time as Banks punches his way into the heavyweight class - his best yet! One jawbreaker contender for the best-sellers list!”

- The Pusher

RB: Man, that’s good. Thank your gaffer for that. See, here’s why everyone should write a boxing book - it gives people a built-in vocabulary to rave about it. I dread to think what people would be saying if I’d followed through with the original setting - the porn industry.

DB: I like your book too...you got some great one-liners in there, I liked, “as Italian as Aldi pizza” how do you think those up? You like keep a file of them, like old Bob Monkhouse used to?

RB: The ones that sound familiar, I’ve probably ripped off someone else. The ones that don’t, I’ve misheard what that someone else said. I’m like Evel Knievel, I don’t have an original bone in my body. And Bob was a machine. That guy’s still cracking gags six feet down.

DB: You got Cal having a rough old time in La-La Land dontcha? He's after a pint of Bud!

RB: Ach, he has a rough old time back in Blighty too. And Donkey Punch is a handjob compared to what happens in the next one. As for the pint thing, well, he just didn’t go to the right bars. I’ve had a pint in the States.

DB: And the smokes too...Cal's takin' those babies to the tip every time! I hear you quit y'self...this like therapy or sumthin'?

RB: Yeah, I gave up, but only in January. The book’s been finished about eighteen months. Giving up smoking’s the easiest thing in the world for someone as lazy as me because it involves doing fuck-all. Course, I say that now…

DB: Okay. Lemme know if I'm onto sumthin' here...you got Cal missing home kinda, he's missing the Manchester rain f'Chrissakes! Is this book like about the differences we got across cultures? Whoa, that made my head feel funny...I think I better take a sip of water!

RB: Kinda. The cultural differences are definitely a part of it. Besides, Los Angeles is the PI town, just as the PI is very much an American archetype. I thought it’d be interesting to throw Cal into that, see what happened.

DB: One time Cal kicks off because he gets called a Brit...and he's like, “I'm Scottish! The Romans built a wall to maintain that difference!” Is that like, history or sumthin'?

RB: It’s a very Scottish state of mind. The wall’s still there for some people on both sides of the border. And I think he’s drunk at the time, which tends to bolster a Scotsman’s national pride. Besides, this is a guy who doesn’t think there’s a difference between Mexican and Latino.

DB: Ray, I gotta ask you, you ain't gonna be painting your face blue and running about any time soon are you?

RB: I don’t need the paint - I have that natural Fife complexion, which has a blueish tinge to it.

DB: You don't live in Scotch-land no more, though, you live in Newcastle-shire, right?

RB: I live just outside of Newcastle now. Moved about once a year in the last five. I’m the Littlest Hobo, and those creditors won’t shake off themselves, will they?

DB: One time I met a guy from Newcastle-shire in Club Flamingo...he asked me if I'd ever tried some Nookie Brown, the schmuck! I done slapped him like a bitch...was the right thing to do, right?

RB: Definitely. You don’t want to mess with The Broon. Couple bottles of that, you’d be kissing your reputation goodbye. Probably with tongues.

DB: Oh, dang! It's a drink...I thought he meant, nah, lets not go there. But, he was cute...wonder if I still got his number. Look, thanks for dropping by Ray, I gotta go now. Stay in touch and good luck with the donkeys or whatever.

RB: Cheers, Dandi. The donkeys send their regards.

Find out what happened next at: Scotch on the Rocks