Cut a long story short we
hit an old chest. Then everything went black. When I come to I’m tied to a
chair in Oscar’s living room. Blackjack and Lambert are sitting on the sofa
watching me.
“That one there is Headley,” said Lambert, “Got a blog. Thinks he’s funny. The other dude is some old pervert who owns this island, says he does anyway. He sneered at my artwork. Can’t believe half what they say…these old geezers live in a fantasy world.”
“I think you have talent,” I said.
“Oh sure you do. In a patronizing way. Don’t come the altruist with me Headley.”
The treasure chest has been opened and I can see gold coins. Like a Disney prop. If they’re real they must be worth millions.
“What the fuck’s going on?” I ask.
“Hallo Dick,” says another bloke I hadn’t noticed before. He has matted hair, nose rings, a little goatee beard and the usual Thai tattoos.
“Who are you? “
“Nigel.”
“Nigel who? There’s no Nigel in this blog.”
“Don’t you remember me? I came in your bar one time in Pattaya and you made fun of me. Called me a U2 fan. That’s an ad hominem attack.”
“If you say so.”
“We’ll never get away with this.” said Blackjack.
“That’s my line.” I cut in.
“Shut up, both of you,” says Nigel, “and stop all this negativity. You Headley you prick you can wipe that smile off your face.”
“You’d look good with a bazooka round up your ass” says Oscar.
“Typical militaristic thinking,” says Nigel, “watching too many Rambo movies that’s your trouble.”
“I like those movies,” say Jack.
“Did you ever keep pythons Jack”, I ask.
“No, why?”
“Just wondering.”
“Taking the piss more likely,” says Nigel. “I know you Headley. We’re going to weigh you down with diving gear then we’re going to sink your boat. ….”
“Wait a minute, says Blackjack, “that sounds a bit heavy to me.”
“… with you and Oscar on it. We’ll make it look like accident. Then we’re off to Pattaya with your treasure.”
“What about the girls?”
“We’re keeping them.” says Jack.
“No we’re not,” says Nigel. “We’re setting them free. What’s the problem Dicky boy? Does it bother you what happens to your harem?”
“Well I have a sensitive side you know,” says I.
“Sensitive side! That’s a laugh,” says Nigel. “You are full of shit Headley. Sailing your fantasy yacht around the Caribbean. Posting your deep insights into human nature on obscure blogs! Who the fuck do you think you are? Do you think anybody’s interested in your opinions? You’re disgusting. I’ve been going back through some of your old posts and I see a lot of racist stuff in there. What do you have to say about that? It’s one thing to make jokes about Tracey Emin but accusing Lambert of shagging her in a tent is pure racial stereotyping to my mind. I suppose you think it’s funny but do you have any idea how hurtful that kind of talk can be?”
“Fuck off,” I say, “It was Lambert who told me about the tent.”
“That’s outrageous.” Says Lambert. “You think I’d spend a week in a tent with some….”
“Some what Lambert? Nearly slipped there didn’t you mate. Anyway I saw the photos remember? You were quite proud of it. And besides I was discussing Tracey’s art so it was a critique and I can say what I want because it’s just my opinion.”
“Oh sure,” says Nigel, "that is so typical. Hide behind the old ‘it’s just my opinion’ argument. Anyone can say that.Admit it Headley, you are culturally insensitive.”
“Not to mention racist.” Says Lambert.
“We’ll never get away with it.” says Blackjack again.
“Bloody hell,” says Nigel, “I thought you were tough.”
Fuck me I’m thinking, they’re all nuts. Oscar’s gone quiet. Not surprising. He’s all trussed up and they’ve strapped a ping-pong ball in his gob. Looks a right twit. I suppose I don’t look much better. We must look like a couple of Japanese secretaries. Anybody wandering in would think we were making a bukkake video.
I can hear the girls splashing in the pool. They seem happy with the new arrangement. We'll get no help there.
“Can I ask something?” I say.
“I suppose so.” Says Nigel.
“What are you going to do with the money?”
Blackjack starts to say something but Nigel says,“We are going to open a hostel for reformed bar-girls in Pattaya,”
“Aaaaarggumgooo,’ says Oscar.
“That’s right.” Says Lambert, “a fully equipped hostel catering to reformed bar-girls under thirty years of age on condition they renounce all ties with falang and stay off drugs. There will be a gourmet canteen, a TV in each room and a state of the art gym. I will be the manager.”
“Hang on,” says Blackjack, “What if they don’t want to be saved? I’m just saying.”
“You aren’t very bright are you Blackjack,” says Nigel, “Why don’t you just stick to crime and let me save the planet.”
Who are these twerps? Me and Oscar just have to sit and listen to their repartee. It’s like a Tarantino movie.
“That one there is Headley,” said Lambert, “Got a blog. Thinks he’s funny. The other dude is some old pervert who owns this island, says he does anyway. He sneered at my artwork. Can’t believe half what they say…these old geezers live in a fantasy world.”
“I think you have talent,” I said.
“Oh sure you do. In a patronizing way. Don’t come the altruist with me Headley.”
The treasure chest has been opened and I can see gold coins. Like a Disney prop. If they’re real they must be worth millions.
“What the fuck’s going on?” I ask.
“Hallo Dick,” says another bloke I hadn’t noticed before. He has matted hair, nose rings, a little goatee beard and the usual Thai tattoos.
“Who are you? “
“Nigel.”
“Nigel who? There’s no Nigel in this blog.”
“Don’t you remember me? I came in your bar one time in Pattaya and you made fun of me. Called me a U2 fan. That’s an ad hominem attack.”
“If you say so.”
“We’ll never get away with this.” said Blackjack.
“That’s my line.” I cut in.
“Shut up, both of you,” says Nigel, “and stop all this negativity. You Headley you prick you can wipe that smile off your face.”
“You’d look good with a bazooka round up your ass” says Oscar.
“Typical militaristic thinking,” says Nigel, “watching too many Rambo movies that’s your trouble.”
“I like those movies,” say Jack.
“Did you ever keep pythons Jack”, I ask.
“No, why?”
“Just wondering.”
“Taking the piss more likely,” says Nigel. “I know you Headley. We’re going to weigh you down with diving gear then we’re going to sink your boat. ….”
“Wait a minute, says Blackjack, “that sounds a bit heavy to me.”
“… with you and Oscar on it. We’ll make it look like accident. Then we’re off to Pattaya with your treasure.”
“What about the girls?”
“We’re keeping them.” says Jack.
“No we’re not,” says Nigel. “We’re setting them free. What’s the problem Dicky boy? Does it bother you what happens to your harem?”
“Well I have a sensitive side you know,” says I.
“Sensitive side! That’s a laugh,” says Nigel. “You are full of shit Headley. Sailing your fantasy yacht around the Caribbean. Posting your deep insights into human nature on obscure blogs! Who the fuck do you think you are? Do you think anybody’s interested in your opinions? You’re disgusting. I’ve been going back through some of your old posts and I see a lot of racist stuff in there. What do you have to say about that? It’s one thing to make jokes about Tracey Emin but accusing Lambert of shagging her in a tent is pure racial stereotyping to my mind. I suppose you think it’s funny but do you have any idea how hurtful that kind of talk can be?”
“Fuck off,” I say, “It was Lambert who told me about the tent.”
“That’s outrageous.” Says Lambert. “You think I’d spend a week in a tent with some….”
“Some what Lambert? Nearly slipped there didn’t you mate. Anyway I saw the photos remember? You were quite proud of it. And besides I was discussing Tracey’s art so it was a critique and I can say what I want because it’s just my opinion.”
“Oh sure,” says Nigel, "that is so typical. Hide behind the old ‘it’s just my opinion’ argument. Anyone can say that.Admit it Headley, you are culturally insensitive.”
“Not to mention racist.” Says Lambert.
“We’ll never get away with it.” says Blackjack again.
“Bloody hell,” says Nigel, “I thought you were tough.”
Fuck me I’m thinking, they’re all nuts. Oscar’s gone quiet. Not surprising. He’s all trussed up and they’ve strapped a ping-pong ball in his gob. Looks a right twit. I suppose I don’t look much better. We must look like a couple of Japanese secretaries. Anybody wandering in would think we were making a bukkake video.
I can hear the girls splashing in the pool. They seem happy with the new arrangement. We'll get no help there.
“Can I ask something?” I say.
“I suppose so.” Says Nigel.
“What are you going to do with the money?”
Blackjack starts to say something but Nigel says,“We are going to open a hostel for reformed bar-girls in Pattaya,”
“Aaaaarggumgooo,’ says Oscar.
“That’s right.” Says Lambert, “a fully equipped hostel catering to reformed bar-girls under thirty years of age on condition they renounce all ties with falang and stay off drugs. There will be a gourmet canteen, a TV in each room and a state of the art gym. I will be the manager.”
“Hang on,” says Blackjack, “What if they don’t want to be saved? I’m just saying.”
“You aren’t very bright are you Blackjack,” says Nigel, “Why don’t you just stick to crime and let me save the planet.”
Who are these twerps? Me and Oscar just have to sit and listen to their repartee. It’s like a Tarantino movie.
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