Read Online Marabou Stork Nightmares by Irvine Welsh - Free Book Online
Authors: Irvine Welsh
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although we both found that we were rather full after them.
— We haven't been quite so hungry today, Sandy said.
— I blame this confounded heat, I nodded, — but I could make a meal of this homemade bread and butter alone!
Our food is served by a strange creature, the likes of which I had never seen before. It was stunted and furtive, and although its short-arsedness seemed to suggest a range of possibilities, it was too dour looking to be a leprechaun, too ugly to be a pixie and too clumsy to be an elf. Its malevolence seemed far in excess of what one might expect from any self-respecting imp. Dawson informs us that it is his faithful manservant, Diddy. Sandy tries to avoid making eye contact with the dwarf valet as he ladles copious amounts of vegetables onto Dawson's plate, a contrast, it has to be said, to the far less liberal helpings he furnishes us with.
— Take Diddy here. He used to run this reserve. Now all he does is skivvy. I had to dismiss him from a position of executive authority. He was yesterday's man, incapable of taking us onto the next phase. Is that not so, Diddy?
Dawson slowly enunciates the phrase incapable of taking us onto the next phase.
— Yes, Mr Dawson, Diddy solemnly replies.
— And how do you feel to be serving my food now, Diddy?
— It's an honour and a privilege to serve Jambola Park PLC in any way I can, Mr Dawson.
— Thank you, Diddy. Now please leave us. We have matters to discuss: executive matters.
Diddy scuttled out the door.
Dawson reclined in his chair and let out a loud, appreciative belch.
— You see Roy, Diddy may have no class, but he possesses an important quality. Not really important any more in top execs, they can always be rewarded, but crucial in footsoldiers. I'm talking, of course, of loyalty. Good old Diddy; aye ready to serve the empire. Men like him have been rewarded by men like me ever since the British set foot in this godforsaken continent.
— The hun never sets, I smiled, and Dawson raised a lascivious eyebrow in fruity acknowledgement.
— And if I may say so, Diddy has been rewarded handsomely, Sandy ventured.
It was a remark which Dawson largely close to ignore. I kept forgetting that Sandy was once in the employ of 'Fatty' Dawson.
— Wonderful food, Lochart, I smiled.
— Yes, said Sandy, — especially after that simply horrid stuff we had in town.
— That was beastly, I agreed, — the chap in the bar made so much fuss about it as well. It's so difficult to get good service nowadays. You're lucky to have Diddy.
Dawson rubbed his swollen hands together and let his face take on a serious bearing. — You see Roy, humans have a wretched tendency to pledge devotion to insitutions rather than individuals. This can be problematic for people like myself who require loyalty in service. What happens, of course, is that one simply buys the institution. Of course one is changing this institution at the same time to suit one's business plans and, yes, many people do notice this. Fortunately, tribal loyalties are pretty well-honed and the fools can't help but to subscribe.
— Goodwill is one of the greatest assets an organisation can have, Sandy remarked.
— Tremendously difficult to quantify on the balance sheet though, Dawson smiled, directing his remark at me rather than Sandy. Sandy began rocking in his chair and letting out a low sound.
— Mmmmm.
— So what does this mean, Lochart? What sort of a role do you perceive for Sandy and myself? I asked, impatient to discover where Dawson's game was leading us.
As you may know, he smirked, — I'm planning to take over a debt-ridden park which lies adjacent to us. I've made a reasonable offer, but I've been subjected to the predictable, tiresome cries of asset-stripping and child-molesting and so on and so forth. Kicking Lochart Dawson around is something of a thriving industry in these parts. Well, I've news for the loudmouths, I've never run away from anything.
— So where do our
— We haven't been quite so hungry today, Sandy said.
— I blame this confounded heat, I nodded, — but I could make a meal of this homemade bread and butter alone!
Our food is served by a strange creature, the likes of which I had never seen before. It was stunted and furtive, and although its short-arsedness seemed to suggest a range of possibilities, it was too dour looking to be a leprechaun, too ugly to be a pixie and too clumsy to be an elf. Its malevolence seemed far in excess of what one might expect from any self-respecting imp. Dawson informs us that it is his faithful manservant, Diddy. Sandy tries to avoid making eye contact with the dwarf valet as he ladles copious amounts of vegetables onto Dawson's plate, a contrast, it has to be said, to the far less liberal helpings he furnishes us with.
— Take Diddy here. He used to run this reserve. Now all he does is skivvy. I had to dismiss him from a position of executive authority. He was yesterday's man, incapable of taking us onto the next phase. Is that not so, Diddy?
Dawson slowly enunciates the phrase incapable of taking us onto the next phase.
— Yes, Mr Dawson, Diddy solemnly replies.
— And how do you feel to be serving my food now, Diddy?
— It's an honour and a privilege to serve Jambola Park PLC in any way I can, Mr Dawson.
— Thank you, Diddy. Now please leave us. We have matters to discuss: executive matters.
Diddy scuttled out the door.
Dawson reclined in his chair and let out a loud, appreciative belch.
— You see Roy, Diddy may have no class, but he possesses an important quality. Not really important any more in top execs, they can always be rewarded, but crucial in footsoldiers. I'm talking, of course, of loyalty. Good old Diddy; aye ready to serve the empire. Men like him have been rewarded by men like me ever since the British set foot in this godforsaken continent.
— The hun never sets, I smiled, and Dawson raised a lascivious eyebrow in fruity acknowledgement.
— And if I may say so, Diddy has been rewarded handsomely, Sandy ventured.
It was a remark which Dawson largely close to ignore. I kept forgetting that Sandy was once in the employ of 'Fatty' Dawson.
— Wonderful food, Lochart, I smiled.
— Yes, said Sandy, — especially after that simply horrid stuff we had in town.
— That was beastly, I agreed, — the chap in the bar made so much fuss about it as well. It's so difficult to get good service nowadays. You're lucky to have Diddy.
Dawson rubbed his swollen hands together and let his face take on a serious bearing. — You see Roy, humans have a wretched tendency to pledge devotion to insitutions rather than individuals. This can be problematic for people like myself who require loyalty in service. What happens, of course, is that one simply buys the institution. Of course one is changing this institution at the same time to suit one's business plans and, yes, many people do notice this. Fortunately, tribal loyalties are pretty well-honed and the fools can't help but to subscribe.
— Goodwill is one of the greatest assets an organisation can have, Sandy remarked.
— Tremendously difficult to quantify on the balance sheet though, Dawson smiled, directing his remark at me rather than Sandy. Sandy began rocking in his chair and letting out a low sound.
— Mmmmm.
— So what does this mean, Lochart? What sort of a role do you perceive for Sandy and myself? I asked, impatient to discover where Dawson's game was leading us.
As you may know, he smirked, — I'm planning to take over a debt-ridden park which lies adjacent to us. I've made a reasonable offer, but I've been subjected to the predictable, tiresome cries of asset-stripping and child-molesting and so on and so forth. Kicking Lochart Dawson around is something of a thriving industry in these parts. Well, I've news for the loudmouths, I've never run away from anything.
— So where do our
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