Oisin
gone but not forgotten
Another little work of pure fiction... 
Tony worked for a Jew named Solomon. At Christmas all Solomon’s employees would get a whole week’s paid holiday, a bonus of an extra week’s wages, a turkey and a bottle of wine. I was an apprentice with a company owned by a miserable Christian. I got two days paid holiday and a note reminding me that if I spent too long in the pub on the day before knocking off for the bank holiday, I could face disciplinarily action. So, as I had quite a few seasonal expenses coming up I was reluctant to agree to Tony’s suggestion of to a real good blow out with the lads before the traditional festivities got under way. But, as always, he talked me round.
There was no structure to it. We all planned to meet up in a city centre bar, drink ourselves silly and see what happened from there.
Having agreed with the others on an early start in the Winsor, arriving together with Tony that Friday night, I was surprised to find Jimmy and Tom already there. Apparently seven-thirty wasn’t early enough for them and they’d decided to strike out straight from work. They had killed time waiting for the bar to open by grabbing a sandwich in a nearby café. Although those two had a head start on me, they were older and more experienced, so while I was slacking well before closing time, they appeared to have problems filling their hollow legs.
When throwing out time loomed I was next to senseless, but not so my companions – oh no, they wanted more. I took very little part in the ensuing debate as to which follow-up venue should be selected. And, to this day, I’m not sure where it was. I just tagged along and can only recollect that it was the upstairs of some seedy little back-street joint, above some shops. I do know there was a grotty little stage and a small back room with a roulette wheel.
As the bar was near the stage, the intention was to get the drinks before the more affluent of us chanced their luck on the roulette wheel. However these plans were delayed when a girl appeared on the stage and began taking her clothes off to the accompaniment of an old Dancette record player. Well we didn't want to insult the girl by leaving in the middle of her act so we loitered a while.Looking back, from what I remember, it was all very amateurish and quite innocent compared with what we’re subjected to on prime time TV these days.
With several other drunks and perverts, we stopped long enough to watch the girl go through her routine, before heading for what was laughingly described as the “Casino Room”. Not having the funds or inclination to take part, I took a seat to watch those who had. Seeing the croupier fleecing the others like someone taking sweets from babies I refused Tony’s offer of a loan to be paid back out of any winnings. Instead, I set about drinking myself even more senseless than I already was.
Being elected as waiter to the punters, I’d just resumed my seat after delivering the third round of drinks when I felt my hair being ruffled by someone standing behind me.
‘Hi handsome.’ I spun round to be confronted by the stripper, now fully clothed and looking surprisingly more appealing that way. ‘Does your mother know where you’ve got to?’
‘Does yours?’ I countered amazingly sharp considering my inebriated condition.
Her face flushed beneath the layers of make up, revealing that she was a lot younger than I’d first imagined. ‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘She thinks I’m working on the petrol pumps.’
Without an invitation she took a seat next to me. She had distracted colleagues from their gambling and I could feel their eyes boring into the back of my head when I swivelled to meet her gaze. Immediately I sensed an increase in my heartbeat. I broke into a cold sweat. There was a churning deep in my abdomen. The hairs bristled on the back of my neck. My whole body began to tremble.
I’ve often since wondered what would have happened between us if, at that very minute, I hadn’t been turfed out onto the street by two big bouncers for throwing up all over the roulette table.
THE STRIP CLUB
Tony worked for a Jew named Solomon. At Christmas all Solomon’s employees would get a whole week’s paid holiday, a bonus of an extra week’s wages, a turkey and a bottle of wine. I was an apprentice with a company owned by a miserable Christian. I got two days paid holiday and a note reminding me that if I spent too long in the pub on the day before knocking off for the bank holiday, I could face disciplinarily action. So, as I had quite a few seasonal expenses coming up I was reluctant to agree to Tony’s suggestion of to a real good blow out with the lads before the traditional festivities got under way. But, as always, he talked me round.
There was no structure to it. We all planned to meet up in a city centre bar, drink ourselves silly and see what happened from there.
Having agreed with the others on an early start in the Winsor, arriving together with Tony that Friday night, I was surprised to find Jimmy and Tom already there. Apparently seven-thirty wasn’t early enough for them and they’d decided to strike out straight from work. They had killed time waiting for the bar to open by grabbing a sandwich in a nearby café. Although those two had a head start on me, they were older and more experienced, so while I was slacking well before closing time, they appeared to have problems filling their hollow legs.
When throwing out time loomed I was next to senseless, but not so my companions – oh no, they wanted more. I took very little part in the ensuing debate as to which follow-up venue should be selected. And, to this day, I’m not sure where it was. I just tagged along and can only recollect that it was the upstairs of some seedy little back-street joint, above some shops. I do know there was a grotty little stage and a small back room with a roulette wheel.
As the bar was near the stage, the intention was to get the drinks before the more affluent of us chanced their luck on the roulette wheel. However these plans were delayed when a girl appeared on the stage and began taking her clothes off to the accompaniment of an old Dancette record player. Well we didn't want to insult the girl by leaving in the middle of her act so we loitered a while.Looking back, from what I remember, it was all very amateurish and quite innocent compared with what we’re subjected to on prime time TV these days.
With several other drunks and perverts, we stopped long enough to watch the girl go through her routine, before heading for what was laughingly described as the “Casino Room”. Not having the funds or inclination to take part, I took a seat to watch those who had. Seeing the croupier fleecing the others like someone taking sweets from babies I refused Tony’s offer of a loan to be paid back out of any winnings. Instead, I set about drinking myself even more senseless than I already was.
Being elected as waiter to the punters, I’d just resumed my seat after delivering the third round of drinks when I felt my hair being ruffled by someone standing behind me.
‘Hi handsome.’ I spun round to be confronted by the stripper, now fully clothed and looking surprisingly more appealing that way. ‘Does your mother know where you’ve got to?’
‘Does yours?’ I countered amazingly sharp considering my inebriated condition.
Her face flushed beneath the layers of make up, revealing that she was a lot younger than I’d first imagined. ‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘She thinks I’m working on the petrol pumps.’
Without an invitation she took a seat next to me. She had distracted colleagues from their gambling and I could feel their eyes boring into the back of my head when I swivelled to meet her gaze. Immediately I sensed an increase in my heartbeat. I broke into a cold sweat. There was a churning deep in my abdomen. The hairs bristled on the back of my neck. My whole body began to tremble.
I’ve often since wondered what would have happened between us if, at that very minute, I hadn’t been turfed out onto the street by two big bouncers for throwing up all over the roulette table.
THE END
