A brief outline

Mike, an aimless young man, undertakes a train journey from the north of England to London, on the glimmer of an opportunity, for a job interview. He quickly realizes the job is somehow gang related and scarpers. He later inadvertently meets some of the said gang and scarpers again, heading back to the north.

Ken, a family man approaching forty and Tony, a really bad baddie become unlikely friends, Ken eventually having to leave the family home and move in with Tony.

Two members of the London gang track Mike down in the north with vengeance on their minds. Poor timing as Mike has gone and fallen in love.

Add in a hamster infestation, a couple of cold-blooded murders, a European cheese magnate and a clapped out 1979 Morris Marina with an attitude and you have one of the wittiest novels to originate from the UK for some years.  

 

Excerpts.

  Mike didn't like rail travel. He didn't like any kind of travel except driving. He loved to drive and had a passion for old, classic cars. That, at least was his excuse for driving a clapped out, yellow, 1979 Morris Marina. The thudding, crashing sound from the suspension whenever it rolled over a matchstick, he argued, was all part of it's charm.

A very expensive suit barely contained his massive bulk. Muscle upon muscle upon muscle rippled under the fabric. He had muscles in places where the rest of us don't have places. Steel toe cap-shaped muscles, both sides of his neck, spanned down to his shoulders.
"What on Earth does he use those for?" Mike wondered, rubbing around his neck and finding only sinew.

The sweater bore some sort of emblem on the breast but in Mike's inebriated state it could have been anything; the Tesco logo, the vasectomy club badge, a gravy stain, an unborn twin finally emerging from his chest cavity, anything.

He paced through the, now empty carriage, peering out through the windows at platform 4 of Milltown station. Milltown station only had two platforms but to make it seem more impressive, they were called 'Platform 4' and 'Platform 7'.

You know that voice? The one in your head. The one you hear when you're readingor thinking something through. That vague, characterless voice that you couldnever describe because it's so…well…nondescript. That was Ken's voice. If Ken spoke to someone they couldn't be sure if they'd heard it or just thought it. Having a conversation with Ken was the closest thing to telepathy.

Mike surveyed the artistry of the cartoon. It showed a section of the bar with a caricature of Nobby serving beer to caricatures of The Queen, The Pope, Winston Churchill, Abraham Lincoln and Billie Sugar. The caption underneath read. 'At the O.O.V. All our customers are Very Important Persons'.
"Clever." Said Mike. "You have a real talent for drawing."
"Ta!" Said Bashy nobfully. Sorry, Nobby bashfully.
"But not for spelling."
"Eh?"
"You've got signs all around the pub saying, "All our customers are very impotent persons"."
"Oh, Bloody 'ell!" Nobby replied, appropriately.
After some discussion it was decided to leave them in place. After enough alcohol they'd make as much sense to the punters as they had done to Nobby, and besides, most of the customers probably were impotent anyway.

They arrived at her front door and that awkward moment happened. Should he kiss her? Shake hands? Bow and take his leave? He strained his hearing. No violins.
"Well, it's late." Clare said.
"Any chance of a coffee?" Said Mike, optimistically.
She looked him up and down. "I don't think so."
Mike turned to leave.
"We'll see what time we finish having sex, then we'll think about coffee."

The entire left side of his body was soaking wet, he was black and green all over and smelled decidedly swampy. While he'd been working in Middle Earth, Judith had returned and was feeding Oliver in his high chair. Her head turned graciously to see 'The Swamp Thing' erupting from the cupboard under the stairs.

  Brilliant! Pigging brilliant! They were going to be mates. He could see it all. What a great gang they would be. Mike would be Shaggy and Nobby would be Scooby Doo. They would be chased by monsters and ghosts while Fred and Clare disappeared for a couple of hours, then that short bird with the glasses worked out the projector and paddle steamer business.

"I've seen your toilets."
"Whatever you're into."
"They're an absolute disgrace, who's responsible?"
"John Major."
"John Major cleans your toilets?"
"No, but 'e's always seemed responsible."
Her pretty face took on a puzzled expression as she searched his eyes to see ifhe was joking.

Ken clenched the stack of about twenty CDs between his hands and carried them across the room to an antique looking chest of drawers. On top of the chest was a large collection of videos and DVDs. As he gently landed his CDs he looked at some of the film titles;
'To Gnaw Him Is To Love Him', 'Ninja Minja', 'Biggy Biggy, Jiggy Jiggy', 'Lesbian Lust At 20,000 Feet, In A Fridge, With Whips N' Stuff', 'Girth Of A Salesman', 'Gashes To Gashes, Lust To Lust', 'Gash and Gary', 'Robocock', Robocock II', RobocockIII, in fact the whole Robocock series up to 'Robocock XXXII' By then the plots had started wearing thin.

A man who thought monogamy was a kind of wood, who thought a homeopath was 'someone wot kills puffs', who thought a meteor was a fat prostitute.

 "If you run, he'll catch you. If you hide, he'll find you. If you fight, he'll kill you. If you can catch him when he's tired and furious there is a chink in his armour".