The Orange Mocha-Chip Frappuccino Years (16 page)

I come home from work, roysh, long hard day at the office, and I’m trying to watch ‘Temptation Island’, but Fionn’s telling me about this coffee shop, roysh, it used to be called Kennedy’s and now it’s called Bon Espresso and Patisserie and I’m like, ‘And your point is?’

The knackers are going to have to go, lottery winners or not. The pigeon loft went up on Tuesday night, roysh, and that’s what the old pair said when they saw it. They have
got
to go. Not that I give a fock one way or another what they say. I hadn’t actually spoken to either of them since they focked me out of the gaff, but let’s just say that suddenly what’s in their interests is also in mine.

I was actually trying to watch ‘Jackass’ when the old man rang and I made the mistake of answering it before I checked who it was, so I ended up having to listen to him bullshitting on about
this loft for, like, twenty minutes. He’s there going, ‘They’re vermin, dirty bloody things that spread disease.’ I’m like, ‘It’s only a few focking birds. Get over it.’ He goes, ‘I wasn’t referring to the pigeons, Ross.’

And I can hear the old dear in the background, roysh, going, ‘Tell him, Charles. Tell him. They will not be satisfied until they have turned this road into one of those
fearful
council estates. Why did they ever leave Coolock or wherever it is they came from?’ I can hear the old man pouring himself a brandy, a double by the sounds of it. He goes, ‘Your mother’s right, Ross. The pigeon loft, the Nissan Bluebird, they’re the thin end of the wedge. What’s next? Horses wandering around the streets here?’

In the background, the old dear’s going, ‘Tell him about the Rottweiler, Charles. And the ice cream van.’ The old man goes, ‘Come on, we’ve no proof that it was an ice cream van.’ And the old dear storts going apeshit, she’s there, ‘Charles, I’ve been to the northside. I
know
what an ice cream van sounds like.’ He goes, ‘All I’m saying, Darling, is that you were upset.’ And she loses it then, roysh, she’s like, ‘I HEARD AN ICE CREAM VAN, CHARLES. WHY WON’T YOU BELIEVE ME?’ I can hear him, like, hugging her, roysh, trying to calm her down, and listening to this bullshit, roysh, I end up missing this entire scene where Johnny Knoxville gets set on fire, which pisses me off, so I end up hanging up on him and switching the phone off for a
couple
of hours.

I found out later, roysh, that the second I hung up, their phone rang. And of course they thought it was me ringing back. The old dear answers it and the old man’s there going, ‘Ask him did we lose the signal this end or was it that end. This chap next door’s probably got one of those blasted CB radios. You mark my
words.’ But it wasn’t me, of course. It was the skangballs
themselves
. And going by the old man’s account, roysh, the old dear was, like, basically in shock.

This
wan
, roysh, Cindy I think he said her name was, she’s asking her something, and you can just picture the old dear there going, ‘Yes … yes … tomorrow night? Em … I don’t know …’ And the old man, who’s copped who it is, roysh, he’s there telling her to, like, play it cool, go along with whatever she’s saying. And the old dear’s there going, ‘Em…I’ll see…I’m not sure if I can make it, but … okay … bye …’ She hangs up, roysh, and the old man’s going, ‘What was all that about?’ And she’s like, ‘She wouldn’t take no for an answer, Charles. She’s invited me to a party. Tomorrow night. In her house.’ The old man’s there, ‘You? On your own?’ And the stupid bitch goes, ‘Yes, she said she’s having “
a few of the girls
” around. Bit of a party. I tried to make some excuse, but …’ And the old man goes – now this is according to him – he goes, ‘Darling, you have to go. You really do. Otherwise they’ll think something’s up. Just go and do your best to act naturally and then, when I speak to Hennessy and we hit them with the solicitor’s letter – BANG! – they won’t know what day of the week it is. In the meantime, we’ve just got to act as though everything’s normal.’

And you can imagine the old dear, roysh, the stupid wagon coming over all faint at the thought of it, and I have to say, roysh, a video tape of her stepping through the front door of that house would be funnier than anything that’s ever been on ‘Jackass’. She goes, ‘I don’t know if I can do this, Charles. I’m not strong like you.’ The old man’s like, ‘I know it’ll take an enormous effort, but …’ She goes, ‘Oh, I can just picture it, Charles. The horror. Net curtains. Brass flower pots in the
windows. Clothes drying on radiators …’ And the old man’s there going, ‘Darling, be brave. This could be our only chance to get rid of them. Once and for all.’

So basically, roysh, what happened was that at eight o’clock the next night, the dopey bitch pops in next door with a bottle of Chateâuneuf du Pape. According to the old man, when he saw the bottle of wine he went, ‘Oh, good cover. I like it. You’re thinking, Darling.’ Before she left he checked she had her panic alarm with her, and then she was off. Two hours later, roysh, she was back, basically in focking tears. She just, like, fell into the old man’s arms and he was like, ‘It’s over, Darling, it’s over. You’re home now. You’re safe.’ And she goes, ‘You don’t understand, Charles. It was a … oh, I can’t even say the word.’ He’s like, ‘Well, don’t. Just try to forget about it.’ She goes, ‘No, I can’t, Charles. I have to say it. It was a … a … a lingerie party.’

I can’t keep the laughter in when the old man tells me this. She went, ‘It was
awful
, Charles. Her friends, they’re … animals. That’s all you could call them. It was
Howiya
this and
Ah Jaysus
that. Frizzy hair and tight jeans …’ And he turns around to her, roysh, and he goes, ‘Try not to think about it.’ She goes, ‘And then the lingerie came out. Oh, it was horrid, Charles,
horrid
. And they knew. They knew how uncomfortable I was with it. Kept telling me to buy various things. Spice up your love life, they said. And they’d all laugh. Horrible laughter. I said I didn’t have my credit card with me …’ The old man tells her she might feel better after a shower and she goes, ‘No, I have to tell you this, Charles. This Cindy woman, she said it didn’t matter. She’d buy me this as a present,’ and the old dear pulls this thing out of her pocket, roysh, and throws it on the table, and from the old man’s description it basically sounds like a pair of red crotchless
knickers with feathers on them. I am breaking my shite laughing when I hear this. I basically can’t hold it in.

The old man, roysh, he’s still bulling when he tells me all this on the phone. He goes, ‘Ross, I have a job for you.’ I’m like, ‘I already have a job.’ He goes, ‘Well, call it a bit of moonlighting then. It’s a special project and it’s worth five grand to you. That’s what I’ll pay you to get those
animals
next door out. Within two months. And I don’t care how you do it either.’ I’m like, ‘I’ll do it. But don’t think this means we’re back playing happy families again. You can get that idea out of your head. But for five
thousand
bills, I’ll take the job.’ He goes, ‘Two months, Ross.’ And I’m there, ‘Piece of piss.’

Fionn says he only has one rule when it comes to the opposite sex, roysh, and that’s never go out with a bird who lives on a Close. I’m like, ‘Fionn, you have some seriously focked-up ideas.’ He goes, ‘Ross, have you ever known me to have trouble with the opposite sex?’ and he actually has a point.

I’m in Mullingar, roysh, and I’m not even sure what county it’s in. All I know is that it took me two focking hours to get here and that JP’s old man told me to refer to it as ‘the gateway town of Mullingar’, presumably to give the impression to the suckers I’m showing it to this afternoon that it’s on the outskirts of Dublin. Of course, wouldn’t you know it, Mr and Mrs Nugent are already there at the gaff when I get there, roysh, both of them already bulling. The goy goes, ‘Well, we’ve already spotted the first untruth in the prospectus.’ I’m like, ‘Sorry I’m late,’ trying to subtly change the subject, but he’s there, ‘Forty-five minutes
from Dublin, it says here. In what, a Lear jet?’ I’m there trying to remember some of the killer lines I learned earlier. I go, ‘The strategic radial corridor should slash commuting times …’ but the focker’s too quick for me, roysh, he’s obviously been swotting up, and he’s there, ‘By
strategic radial corridor
I presume you’re referring to the N4?’ I’m there, ‘Em … yeah.’ He goes, ‘We
took
the N4. And I can only presume the N stands for nights, as in it’ll take you the best part of four bloody nights to get home.’

I’m there, ‘Hey, I’m getting majorly negative vibes here. If you don’t want the house …’ His wife, roysh – not bad looking, a little bit like Emma Forbes, D&G coat, Burberry scarf,
cracking
on she’s really posh, but if she was she wouldn’t be looking to buy a house in the middle of Bogsville – she goes, ‘Calm down, Pat. Let’s at least look the place over … we’ve come this far,’ obviously knowing their options in the housing market are limited, which makes them, like, easy prey for me. Of course, I’m there leading them through the gaff – a total dump if I’m honest, which I’m not – going, ‘You will have seen on your
approach
that this is a desirable residence in an exclusive enclave of sumptuously designed houses by an award-winning architect …’ Actually, the award-winning part is a bit cheeky. As JP’s old man says, the only thing the goy was ever awarded was
temporary
release from a four-year sentence for trying to bribe council officials, roysh, though as my desk diary said this morning, You’ve got to speculate to accumulate …

I’m going, ‘These innovative homes with their well-
proportioned
living areas, blah blah blah, generous specifications, bullshit
bullshit
bullshit, possible Section 23 relief, piece of focking cake.’ The goy mutters something about the TSB/ESRI house price index, whatever the fock that is, and the impending national
spatial strategy – again, he’s on his own there – and I just go, ‘With the market in a state of flux, any theory I might postulate is as good as the next man’s,’ which is the emergency line to bluff your way out of any difficult corner in this job, and he just nods his head, roysh, and seems to accept what I’ve said.