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666 Great Junction Street

Part 10

Having been a match steward at Easter Road for five years and a season ticket holder for as long as he could remember before that, Eddie Thomson's emotional baggage was constantly bandied about by those ugly sisters, hope and disappointment. Each new signing for the club always filled him with hope, but more often than not, left him feeling cheated.

Somehow, he thought Guy Pistov would be different. He had followed Guy Pistov's career with a mixture of fascination and disbelief as each new exposť of the Rumanian striker's social and sexual proclivities continued to challenge the salivating sub editors in the sports section of the Evening News.

While he admired his dribbling skills and mastery of the dead ball situation, Eddie's estimation of the man rose considerably once he discovered they frequented the same drinking dens around Leith. Not for Guy were the post-modern ironic themed pubs and sharply lit style bars favoured by his team mates. He preferred an establishment where the clientele were more likely to pick a fight to enliven their evening than comment sarcastically on your dress sense.

Not having seen him for a while, Eddie was intrigued by the recent revelations in the press concerning Guy's penchant for the latest hypersex sensation - dogging.

'So, is it true, Guy?' he asked.

Guy walked over to stand beside Eddie. They had often exchanged stories in a drunken fug before and Guy felt comfortable confiding in Eddie knowing he was no blatherer, like so many other instant drinking buddies who ran squealing to the media.

'Is a strange thing,' said Guy. 'I like internet. I have blog and found dogging accidental. But I like it. The, how you say, strangerness?'

Eddie, fairly well versed in Guy's linguistic adventures, hazarded a guess at, 'Meeting strangers?'

'Yes, yes. Meeting those. And watching how they sex.'

'Really? Do you join in then?'

'Well yes. If they want me.'

'Seems a bit iffy to me.'

'Maybe you want to come? All are nice people. No rough stuff.'

'Er, no. Thanks and all that.'

'Suiting yourself. Pint?'

'Cheers. You playing on Saturday?'

Guy grinned and nudged Eddie on the shoulder. 'You mean football playing or playing playing? A ha ha ha ha ha!'

'Aw right, Guy,' Jock called from the other side of the bar. Ah couldnae help overhearin' there, but ony chance o' getting' me intae some o' that doggin' action like?'

'Who you?' asked Guy suspiciously.

'He's OK, Guy,' said Eddie. 'He lives on the same stair as me. Alright Jock? Hey, what's wrong with your foot?'

Eddie had noticed Jock limping slightly as he sidled over. 'Aw, it's nuthin'. Just a wee insect bite. I'll take it to the doctor's the morn.'

'You take insect to doctor?' said Guy. He slapped Eddie on the back. 'I think he mean vet, yes? A ha ha ha ha!'

'Aye, very funny,' smiled Jock. 'Noo, aboot this doggin' business. Whit's the Jackanory?'

Next: Jakey Rolling

 
 
 
 
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