Football Crosswords

John White

Sujets

• Historical fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Apex Publishing Ltd
• Date de parution: 01 juin 2006
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781904444633
• Langue: English

Extrait

Title Page
THE DEATH OF MR. GRUMBLE
A Clown Who Said No to the Circus
By
Andrew-Henry Bowie



Publisher Information
Published in 2014 by
Apex Publishing Ltd
12A St. John’s Road, Clacton on Sea
Essex, CO15 4BP, United Kingdom
www .apexpublishing.co.uk
Digital edition converted and distributed in 2014 by
Andrews UK Limited
www.andrewsuk.com
Please email any queries to Chris Cowlin
[e-mail]
Copyright © 2014 Andrew-Henry Bowie
The author has asserted his moral rights
All rights reserved. This book is sold subject to the condition, that no part of this book is to be reproduced, in any shape or form. Or by way of trade, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition, including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser, without prior permission of the copyright holder.
All characters in this book are entirely fictional and do not in any way represent the lives of real people.



About the Author
Born in Edinburgh in 1973, Andrew-Henry Bowie received praise in 2008 for his first book, Two Miles to Tynecastle ; an autobiographical tome tracking his troubled childhood, a hapless personal life and his credulous love for Heart of Midlothian FC. The Death of Mr Grumble is his third published work but his first novel. Today, he lives in East Lothian with his wife Lesley, and his children, Jude-Lauren and Theodore.



Dedication
For my wife, Lesley, my daughter Jude, and my son, Theo.
During the concept, writing and publication process of this book, both Mr Grumble and I turned 40. Thus, these pages are also dedicated to those of you whose life has now begun.
‘Hello everybody,
How are you today?
I am Mr Stumble
Would you like to play?
I sign ‘hello,’
Let me help you,
Let me help you,
Let me help you brighten up your day.
Hey! Hey!’



Preface
‘You cannot write a man’s life until it is finished.’
Albert Goldman
‘If a man hasn’t discovered something that he will die for, he isn’t fit to live.’
Martin Luther King, Jnr
‘Live as you would have wished to live when you are dying’
Christian Furchtegott Gellert
The incoming surf crashed into the black rocks relentlessly, ever ready to take hold of one more man for what would be his final journey. Jason stood high over each roaring wave. He knew it was time...time to say goodbye, forever.
This...is the story, about a man...who died.



Part One
Chapter 1
A Song and Dance Man
This...is the story, about a man...who died. Now that , it could be argued, might seem a little...depressing. Death often is. Yet this is not a depressing story; not in the least. And , just because a man dies, it does not mean to say that he never lived. This one did, remarkably so in the end, and here, right here, is the starting point of his story. It must be said though, that his is a tale which begins with a lonely, pathetic sort of existence, but one that was ultimately capable of producing truly epic actions, events and witness. In a world of stifling political correctness, imperative social connectivity, and an unrelenting thirst for celebrity and ‘reality’, the life and times of Mr Grumble was a remarkable and awe-inspiring journey. This is a narrative about a great man, or perhaps a very flawed man, but one who was capable of great actions; a very personal and moving journey, and a journey to the end. Yet how he even got there was something of a mystery to him. As the incoming surf crashed into the black rocks relentlessly, ever ready to take hold of one more man for what would be his final journey, he stood high over each roaring wave. He knew it was time...time to say goodbye, forever. That was the end, the end for him . As for the beginning, well...that was a long time ago. Yet it is at the beginning of the end from where we pick up the story. That was about two years ago now...
***
The drizzly Saturday morning early shift at McDonald’s was well underway. Floors were hastily moped. Tables were quickly wiped down and more lettuces were being washed as the orders steadily came in. Children and their parent waddled eagerly into the fast-food restaurant. This was for some, a twice-weekly treat of calorie-loaded burgers, fries and fizzy drinks before getting down to the later business of playing console games and watching TV talent shows. On the drive-thru hatch, Zak and Nathan were already struggling to cope with demand as the queue of cars stretched out onto Wandsworth Road. Zak, 20, was suffering from severe acne. His lank, greasy, brown hair hovered over the deep-fat fryer as if it were desperate to sacrifice itself as further lubrication for the McChicken Nuggets. Nathan a gangly, blonde, twenty-two year-old was hoping to marry the actress, Kelly Brook, should she ever walk into Vauxhall’s premier burger joint. Zak, as ever, was constantly telling Nathan to get a move on. Zak was now a supervisor.
‘Yeah, wot can I get you?’ said Nathan, hurriedly into his headset.
‘And about fucking time too,’ muttered the voice through the intercom. ‘Two Big Macs, a McChicken Sandwich and a strawberry milkshake.’ said the man.
‘D’you wanna Big Mac Meal Deal?’ said Nathan.
A short silence followed.
‘A Meal Deal? Why would I want a Meal Deal when I made it perfectly clear that I wanted two Big Macs, a McChicken Sandwich and a strawberry milkshake?’
‘D’you wanna a regu-la or large milkshaike?’
‘LARGE!’
‘If you were to apgrade to a McChicken Sandwich Meal Deal, you could ‘ave a free Disney/P.I.X.A.R toy, with a choice from Brave , Monstas.Inc , Toy Story or Finding Nemo ?
‘I’ve been waiting in this queue for twenty-five bastard minutes. I will fucking kill myself in this car right outside of your hatch if you offer me anything again’.
‘D’you wanna just proceed then?’
‘What? Yes. Please just give me my food.’
Just at that point, Ben from the kitchen area shouted through that the Big Macs were off limits due to a detergent spillage. Zak pushed past Nathan to inform the person at the other end of the bad news.
‘Sir, if you upgrade to the McChicken Meal Deal you will receive the free Disney/P.I.X.A.R gift, any one of a choice from Brave , Monsters.Inc , Toy Story or Finding Nemo ?’
‘Hang on, I’m coming in,’ said the voice.
Nathan and Zak were taken aback a little, and for a moment they looked at each other in nervous bemusement. McDonalds was busy, noisy and damp with condensation. A cold breeze whistled through the restaurant whenever anyone opened the main door, which was often. Tariq and Deepa were on front of shop service and Chinmayananda took care of the table-clearance patrol. In the corner sat a dozen teenage girls, aged around thirteen to fifteen, and each with the same unflattering, scraped-back hair, bar the obligatory, combed down fringe. They were squawking loudly and excitedly over each other’s gossip and the ear-splitting dance music from their mobile phones that converged horribly and much to Tariq’s displeasure. At the next table, an obese family sat scoffing a mountain of food. The elephant-sized adults ate in silence, their grey skin and sunken eyes barely emanating the immense pleasure the processed grub gave them as they devoured it piece by piece. At the table nearest the counter, a young family bickered and threatened one another as they made their way through 99p burgers and Happy Meals. Mum had her hair in a pony-tail, one of her brown eyes disguising the hint of a bruise from underneath. Her partner’s white Nike baseball cap was as grimy as the face it perched on. He was thin, agitated and talked loudly, telling his two brats to ‘shat yoar maths and eat’. The rest of McDonalds was much of the same, groups of youths, feasting families and single men with in their thirties and forties, with rucksacks for company. It was feeding time at the zoo when in walked Mr Grumble.
‘Who was I speaking to on the drive-thru intercom?’ asked Mr Grumble.
‘Oh, I think it must’ve been Nathan,’ said Deepa.
‘Go get him for me, please’.
Nathan crept round to the front shop with his earpiece in and headset still wrapped around his chin. Mr Grumble briskly walked towards the counter but then embarrassingly slipped on a milkshake spillage, sparking much laughter from Nathan and the teenage girls. Through his feeling of rage and now mortification, Mr Grumble picked up a full fat coke from the brats’ table and threw it forcefully against the illuminated menu board above and behind Nathan’s head, the contents splattering everywhere behind the counter.
‘If I ever come in here again asking for a fucking free Disney/P.I.X.A.R gift then you can do the same thing to me, you prick,’ whispered an irate Mr Grumble towards Nathan.
Mr Grumble looked round to find the restaurant in stunned silence. He observed the obese family who were in turn, staring right back at him. Both the parents’ mouths were wide open, as Dad in particular, having stopped chomping on his Big Mac, felt a piece of the burger fall from his gob, the only kinetic feature from an otherwise static scene, such was the sudden air of disbelief.
‘And what are you staring at, Lard Ass?’ enquired Mr Grumble.
There was no reply.
‘Huh? ANSWER ME! What the hell are you lot looking at me like that for?!’
A bead of nervous sweat began to form on Mr Grumble’s upper lip as he trembled slightly from the adrenalin that was running through his body. For the first time since pulling up at the driv