JANK

SPUD MURPHY (Part One)

Ev'ryone knows one—well at least one—maybe ev'n two or three in my case. I knew one in school, knew of one my Grandma used to know and one from t' telly. That's three too many if ye ask a lotta people buh nah me. All t' Spuds I'd met before were dead on buh one in particular stood out.

Sid Murphy.

T' fourth Spud.

Sad Boy's Southern cousin.

Me and t' lads were all gathered 'round our usual area in t' bar; I was sippin' on a pint of Guinness, Sad Boy was mopin' at some dumb mem'ry t' song playin' brought back, Doug was flirtin' wi' some random person and Carlos was playin' cards wi' Marty Ritchie and 'bout to blow his lid 'cause he lost t' round (and a tenner from t' bet).

We were all enjoyin' t' moment, all havin' some dead-on craic when suddenly I heard t' loudest gob yell: "It's a crazy, fecked up world out dere!" 

Lookin up, I realised t' punk-haired shite was approachin' us. Sad Boy's face lit up as he shook t' hand of t' intruder and said: "Bout ye, lad? How are things over in yer neck of t' woods?"

"Nah too bad. How 'bout ye?" T' man smiled, sittin' down opposite him. Of course.

Sad Boy nodded. "Dead on here too."

"How cam ye live 'bout fifteen minutes away an' ye can't ev'n cam an' visit us?"

Sad Boy shrugged. "Nah, it's more. Like twenty-five."

"

Aye, an I still ave t' gumption t' cam up da dese parts?" His voice was becomin' louder and more obnoxious by t' millisecond, then he turned 'round to speak to me. "And who's dis lad?"

"Jack" Sad Boy added. I wanted to turn 'roun and deck him buh I didn't have it in me. "Well, we call him Donny."

He smiled and stuck out his hand fer me to shake. "Spud. Nice de meet ye, Donny."

I managed t' muster up a fake smile an' respond with: "Same, Mate." 

Lookin' 'cross t' room, I noticed him eyein' up t' loo. I got a bit too excited. Then he looked back at me. "So, how long 'ave ye known Sad Boy fer?"

"Long 'nough, ye know?"

"De ye know 'im from school? I'm nat familiar wi' ye."

"Aye."

"So, d'ye see 'im aften?"



"Often 'nough, aye."



"Dat's good. I'm glad my wee cousin has some mates t' look after 'im." He smiled, turnin' back to Sad Boy.

Finally.

Lookin' over at t' big screen by t' far wall, I decided t' distract myself. Some random Gaelic game was on. Think it was Tyrone or somethin'. There was an amazin' kick and I fergot there was a pint beside me...

... So there went Sad Boy's drink.

All over t' table...

... An' some over his jacket on t' chair.

"Donny, do ye mind!" He yelled, watching t' liquid drip down. "Ye've stained my new jacket!"

Lettin' out a sigh, I turned 'round. "Haul on. Lemme go an' get some paper towels."

He nodded at me. "Don't be too long, aye?"

"Aye."


Wanderin' toward t' toilets, I noticed Lincoln standin' outside, dressed as a bouncer. Sneaky wee git.

"Donny, fancy seein' you 'ere." T' Englishness in his accent made me reek but I had to do tis fer t' sake of all our sanities. "What can I do for you?"