Fat Boab handed over another shot of Courvoisier to
the haughty hack.
know, there was a big stramash in the street earlier
on. Shouldn't you be covering that?'
sighed. 'Yes, I caught the tail end of it. Some awful
racket and a bunch of oiks getting uppity with the
local constabulary as far as I could make out. That's
why I popped in here to get away from it. Too much
noise makes me nauseous and, generally speaking, I
don't do news.'
don't do news?'
don't do news. Oh, if only I could resign now or just
get the lunch ticket - you know, reviewing restaurants
and the like. Dribbling on about sumptious sauces
and perky wines. At least you have some fairly tolerable
establishments for noshing in around here. Awful snobs
in them, though.'
restrained his scoff. 'Aye, you've a hard life right
quaint rustic clichés you do spout,' said Dawson.
what you gong to write then?'
idea. I'll just spout some bile on impulse. Reflex
vomiting if you like. It's my style.'
you attempting to extract the feculence?'
'Probably. How am I doing?'
bad actually. Tell me everything you know.'
Go on. I've got at least five minutes.'
let that one go. It wasn't every day he had a cognac
drinker in and he felt it was his duty to at last
get rid of the stuff which had been lying untouched
for years. This guy looked like he could shift the
whole bottle, so it was best to humour the little
prick. 'You'll have to let me know when they print
your article. I can't wait to read it. Are you sure
you don't want any background information you can
now you come to mention it, what's that horrendous
spike at the entrance to your exquisite shopping centre?'
Dawson was referring to the modern spiralling metal
sculpture at the entrance to the Kirkgate which some
said symbolised a middle finger sticking up, directed
at the residents of Edinburgh. A little research would
have told him everything he needed to know. But Dawson
didn't do research.
now, that I do know. It is a reminder of Leith's whaling
past and represents the tusk of a Narwhal.'
'Bloody hell. The tusk of a Narwhal, a statue of Queen
Victoria and a Boots with a bouncer. This is one classy
pub door creaked open.
Eddie,' said Boab, indicating the newcomer. He turned
to Dawson. 'This is Eddie Thomson. He's a match steward
at Easter Road. He gets paid to turn his back on the
Hibs whenever they're at home. He's good at directing
people to the toilets.' Then, nodding at Eddie, he
said, 'This gentleman reckons that everyone who drinks
in this bar makes him feel physically sick. What do
you make of that?'
seemed distracted, but casually smacked Dawson over
the head just for good measure.
dash,' said Dawson, bolting down his cognac.
week: Start Making Sense