Tam the Bam

29 03 2007

I’m stuck here on this train full of people on their way into town for Saturday shopping because I need to pick up my car after a bit of a bender last night. I’m wishing that bloody kid would stop crying. Can’t that mother keep her bloody kid quiet for just twenty minutes? He’s stuffing is face with a milky bar and it’s all dribbling down his chin and he’s still yelling. Honestly, some folks don’t deserve to have kids. If he were my boy he’d have had a good slap by now. That would shut him up.

That’s Young Bill beside me. He’s still trying to sort out the details over the phone. I wish he’d get a proper haircut though. It makes him look like a right poof. At least he took my advice and got a smart leather coat. Mine’s is Dolce & Gabana though and Bill’s not quite on my kind of money yet. But I must say, apart from the hair, we look the business today. People take you more seriously when you look the part.

You wonder why these folks let it get to this stage. You borrow money from Big Brian you got to be able to pay it back. They fucking know the score though. Why borrow it if you’re not going to get round to repaying? That’s the rules. You don’t see banks letting folk just walk in and take money from them do you? No. Cause that would be stealing wouldn’t it? And a thief always gets what’s coming to them. Even the fucking Bible says so.

Finally, Bill get’s off the phone and says he’s got the address. He tells me Brian wants the job done by seven tonight. The quarter final’s on TV later so that suits me just fine. Bill’s missus has just had a baby so he’s looking pleased at getting the Saturday night off too.


Fuck me that was a crazy bit of work. Fuck. You should’ve seen the place. I think I managed to get most of the blood cleaned up. We picked up my motor and then got to the address Big Brian gave us, up a big old tenement; the stairs nearly killed me. And of course they were trying to pretend they weren’t in but I could see their shadows in the hall when I looked through the letterbox. Did they honestly think we’re stupid or something? We soon showed them. I got Bill to kick the door down. It was a horrible flat anyway, even before we did it over. All Ikea flat pack and they’d not even washed up their breakfast dishes yet. Some folks just have no fucking refinement. And then the girlfriend, Jackie I think her name was, started crying and bawling and the guy was pleading with us. Trying to get us to take their crappy little TV.

‘What do I want with a TV like that?’ I says. I looked at it and tried not to laugh. That program was on. The one where they have folks falling over and getting hit on the face and stuff…You’ve Been Framed. And there was this little dog on it yapping at this great big dog and I thought it was funny. But then I got back to the job and I gave the guy a good slap for his attitude.

And then -this was so funny you should have seen it- the girlfriend starts having a go

‘You take your hands off him’ she says. And you’ve got to give it to her, her voice was pretty composed. Like she’s watched a lot of gangster films and thinks she’s going to be the big hero.

‘And just how exactly’ I asks her, ‘are going to stop me.’

By that point Bill had her round the throat with the knife though, so she soon shut the fuck up with her back-chat. We were only going to cut off one of his fingers. It’s not liked we were going to rape her or nothing. Though what I wouldn’t give for a bit of that. Not now though. She’s a bit of a mess now. But she’d started squealing when I pulled the cleaver out of my pocket and I told Bill, I told him.

‘Will you shut her the fuck up!’ I had to shout to be heard above the noise of the pair of them howling.

‘How am I supposed to do that?’ Bill shouted back.

I looked at him for a second like he was thick or something. The TV had switched to adverts now and the music was driving me crazy. I gave it a good hard kick and it fell onto the floor with a crash.

‘How the fuck do you think?’ I said. The guy was literally pissing himself by this time. Nearly got my brand new Versace trousers wet. I still hadn’t cut off his finger though and to be quite honest the pair of them were really starting to give me a headache. ‘Use your head Bill or failing that I find fists and boots do the trick rather nicely.’

‘But this lassie doesn’t owe Brian anything.’ said Bill. She was making a sobbing sound like a little kids after their done having a tantrum.

‘What?’ says I, because for a start what did Bill think he was doing answering me back in front of the public like that. I had a good mind to give Bill a smack round the head for his cheek.

‘Well I can see why you need to knock him about but not the girl.’ Bill looked all soft. Like the lassie was a wee treasure or something. For fuck’s sake. You want a job doing right you got to do it yourself.

Clunck! I got the fella’s finger off with the cleaver first time which was good because then he passed out and so that shut him up. She started screaming even louder though and that, I suppose, is when I lost it. Bill was trying to cover her mouth with his hand but that wasn’t doing much good so I thumped her one. The bitch deserved it. She actually tried to hit me back a couple of times but a couple of good punches in the face soon shut her up. But Bill. What the fuck was he playing at? He starts shouting at me and actually trying to push me away? Fuck me, I always knew he was stupid but not that stupid. I whacked him one with the cleaver but the bastard moved out of the way so I only got him in the shoulder. The girl was lying in the corner making gurgling noises so at least the volume of the place had gone down. I knew by this point that the neighbours would maybe have phoned the police on account of all the noise. Bill looked shocked that I’d hit him. He was just sitting there staring at me. There was blood all over my good suit. I tell you I was not a happy chappy.

I told him to get back downstairs and wait in the car. I cleaned the blood off my hands in their grotty fry-up filled sink and then came down and got into the car. I told Bill to drive us out to the shipyards. Told him I needed a bit of quiet to get my shit together before the game tonight.

We drove in silence. All the time I was trying to think of a way out of it but what else could I do? You don’t get to keep being a Glasgow hard man very long with a sidekick who goes all gooey over a girl. I knew it was probably just him having become a father. I’ve seen it get some guys like that. That’s why I keep all that out of my life. You can’t do a job like this and start getting soft.

We got to the shipyard docks. By now it was 6 o’clock. The docker’s would all be off home by now no doubt, as keen as I was to get back in time for the game. Fucking Bill. By this point I think he kind of knew but maybe hoped I’d change my mind once we were there.

‘Get out the car’ I said. His face went a bit pale but he did as he was told.

He wouldn’t have felt much. I knocked him out with the back of the cleaver before I started chopping him up. My fucking suit was ruined anyway so I was past caring. There were binbags in the back of the motor. Good ones too. None of your Tesco’s blue and white stripey shit for me. They rip way too easy. ‘Be prepared’ like they used to tell me in the Scouts.

Like I said. I think I managed to clean most of the blood up once I got back to my flat. I got changed and put my suit in the same binbags as Bill and then drove back to the docks where I lobbed the lot into the Clyde.

And the whole fucking thing meant I missed the first twenty minutes of the game.

And then we lost 3-0.

(c) Jenny Love 2007

Published by Thriller UK, Winter 2007, Issue 30




2 responses

29 03 2007

girl, you scare me. that imagination …

15 12 2007
Two woo-hoos! (from a published writer) « Jumping Puddles

[…] The much respected Thriller UK magazine took Tam the Bam […]

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