which wisnae exactly murder, wis it?”
“Maybe, bit catching the heid ae the city’s cleansing department perching oan the wife ae the cooncillor who agrees the contracts fur dumping aw the city’s shite intae nine landfill sites aw o’er the scenic west coast and being a silent partner in her company, alang wae two well-known city gangsters, is. Ye said so yersel.”
“Aye, bit it wisnae exactly Profumo, wis it?”
“It will be, if Ah kin only track him and Madame Tussaud doon.”
“Ah’ve heard they’re across in Spain.”
“And Ah’ve heard that they’ve baith ended up beside each other in amongst aw the shite that they goat tipped intae auld farmer MacDonald’s good carrot field, efter they conned him oot ae it,” The Rat squeaked.
“Supposition and rumours, Sammy. Granted, the story wis hot fur a couple ae weeks efter being picked up by aw the broad sheets, bit then it went cauld.”
“Aye, bit no before we milked it tae death.”
“This is still different.”
“Look at the rug scandal then?”
“Whit aboot it?”
“Who wis it that exposed the fact that aw they lovely Persian rugs in the city’s art collection, which get rolled oot every time The Queen comes tae tea, wur made in a garage in Birmingham, while the real wans wur flogged fur a fortune in a New York auction room in the nineteen fifties?”
“Aye, that wisnae bad, that wan,” Tom conceded, laughing.
“Ah heard it cost The Corporation a bloody fortune tae change aw they big coloured photographs in the chambers ae Her Majesty, staunin there, grinning wae an auld rug fae Sutton Coldfield under her plates ae meat.”
“Aye, bit...”
“And who wis it that goat the photos ae the two inspectors loading up and drapping aff aw that single malt personally in a Black Maria, haun delivering it tae the McGregors, the biggest gangsters oan the south side ae the river, eh?”
“That wis different…ye wur oan the Pat Roller team then.”
“That’s no ma point, Tom.”
“So, whit is?”
“Copy…good copy equals sales. Since Ah’ve been here, the circulation his gone up by nearly hauf a million new readers. And that’s jist wae a few wee juicy stories.”
“Ah still find it hard tae believe. Where’s the motive? Talk aboot taking a hammer tae crack a nut? Tell me again, bit slowly this time.”
“Ah’ve been reliably informed that this wee ten year auld and a couple ae his pals hiv been running aboot, aw o’er Glesga, thieving like Christmas wis the morra. The local pavement pounders, who ur something else, by the way, hiv been daeing their dingers because they hivnae goat within a mile ae them. Because ae the pressure being brought tae bear oan them locally, this wee manky crowd started tanning electrical shoaps aw across the city, particularly doon in the Saltmarket and across in Partick.”
“Carry oan.”
“That’s Billy Liar and Daddy Jackson’s patches. This wis efter the local shiny buttons started tae try and set them up. The wee scallywags continued tae oot-fox them and wur running rings roond them. A couple ae months back, in desperation, they tried tae kidnap two ae the wee fuckers oan the QT, bit aw the local wummin in the area arrived oan the scene, mob-haunded, and there wis a pitch battle in wan ae the back courts ae a tenement building up in Montrose Street. There wis two plods involved…a big sergeant called Liam Thompson and a squinty-eyed pavement pounder that everywan calls Crisscross due tae the massive squint in baith his eyes. Seemingly Ben Turpin’s isnae a patch oan these wans.”
“Aye, Ah know who ye’re oan aboot. Ah’ve seen a photo ae him when he goat awarded a bravery medal. Bloody sin, so it is. Ah’ve never seen a pair ae eyes like it. The medal wis probably awarded tae him fur running aboot wae they eyes ae his in public,” Tom murmured, no being able to stoap himsel
“Maybe, bit catching the heid ae the city’s cleansing department perching oan the wife ae the cooncillor who agrees the contracts fur dumping aw the city’s shite intae nine landfill sites aw o’er the scenic west coast and being a silent partner in her company, alang wae two well-known city gangsters, is. Ye said so yersel.”
“Aye, bit it wisnae exactly Profumo, wis it?”
“It will be, if Ah kin only track him and Madame Tussaud doon.”
“Ah’ve heard they’re across in Spain.”
“And Ah’ve heard that they’ve baith ended up beside each other in amongst aw the shite that they goat tipped intae auld farmer MacDonald’s good carrot field, efter they conned him oot ae it,” The Rat squeaked.
“Supposition and rumours, Sammy. Granted, the story wis hot fur a couple ae weeks efter being picked up by aw the broad sheets, bit then it went cauld.”
“Aye, bit no before we milked it tae death.”
“This is still different.”
“Look at the rug scandal then?”
“Whit aboot it?”
“Who wis it that exposed the fact that aw they lovely Persian rugs in the city’s art collection, which get rolled oot every time The Queen comes tae tea, wur made in a garage in Birmingham, while the real wans wur flogged fur a fortune in a New York auction room in the nineteen fifties?”
“Aye, that wisnae bad, that wan,” Tom conceded, laughing.
“Ah heard it cost The Corporation a bloody fortune tae change aw they big coloured photographs in the chambers ae Her Majesty, staunin there, grinning wae an auld rug fae Sutton Coldfield under her plates ae meat.”
“Aye, bit...”
“And who wis it that goat the photos ae the two inspectors loading up and drapping aff aw that single malt personally in a Black Maria, haun delivering it tae the McGregors, the biggest gangsters oan the south side ae the river, eh?”
“That wis different…ye wur oan the Pat Roller team then.”
“That’s no ma point, Tom.”
“So, whit is?”
“Copy…good copy equals sales. Since Ah’ve been here, the circulation his gone up by nearly hauf a million new readers. And that’s jist wae a few wee juicy stories.”
“Ah still find it hard tae believe. Where’s the motive? Talk aboot taking a hammer tae crack a nut? Tell me again, bit slowly this time.”
“Ah’ve been reliably informed that this wee ten year auld and a couple ae his pals hiv been running aboot, aw o’er Glesga, thieving like Christmas wis the morra. The local pavement pounders, who ur something else, by the way, hiv been daeing their dingers because they hivnae goat within a mile ae them. Because ae the pressure being brought tae bear oan them locally, this wee manky crowd started tanning electrical shoaps aw across the city, particularly doon in the Saltmarket and across in Partick.”
“Carry oan.”
“That’s Billy Liar and Daddy Jackson’s patches. This wis efter the local shiny buttons started tae try and set them up. The wee scallywags continued tae oot-fox them and wur running rings roond them. A couple ae months back, in desperation, they tried tae kidnap two ae the wee fuckers oan the QT, bit aw the local wummin in the area arrived oan the scene, mob-haunded, and there wis a pitch battle in wan ae the back courts ae a tenement building up in Montrose Street. There wis two plods involved…a big sergeant called Liam Thompson and a squinty-eyed pavement pounder that everywan calls Crisscross due tae the massive squint in baith his eyes. Seemingly Ben Turpin’s isnae a patch oan these wans.”
“Aye, Ah know who ye’re oan aboot. Ah’ve seen a photo ae him when he goat awarded a bravery medal. Bloody sin, so it is. Ah’ve never seen a pair ae eyes like it. The medal wis probably awarded tae him fur running aboot wae they eyes ae his in public,” Tom murmured, no being able to stoap himsel
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