The McDead

Song for Guy

A handful of mourners at Tony Roberts’ funeral. The Chief Inspector, Brant, Falls, McDonald, and a wino who looked vaguely familiar, but Roberts couldn’t quite recall where from.

The vicar read, ‘Man is full of misery and has but a short time to live…

Brant nudged him, none too gently, said, ‘Jaysus, padre, something less depressing.’

The vicar said, ‘I say, do leave this to the proper authority. There are set rules and services.’

Brant gave him the look, asked, ‘Wanna be first in the hole?’

The padre looked for help but none was forthcoming, so he read an up tempo passage on light and salvation. Brant liked it fine.

A persistent drizzle was coming down, not an outright soaking but a steady wetting. As if it hadn’t the balls to just pour on bloody down. When the body had been lowered, Brant moved near to Roberts, asked, ‘All right, guv?’

‘What … oh yes … thanks … listen, I, ahm … don’t they usually have sandwiches for people after…?’

Brant smiled gently, a rare to rarest event, said, ‘I put a few quid behind the bar at The Roebuck, they do a lovely spread.’

‘Oh, do they?’

‘Well the owner’s a mick, knows about wakes. He’ll do us grand. I’ll leave you a moment, guv.’

Roberts turned, asked, ‘What will I say? I dunno what to say.’

‘Tell him goodbye, guv … oh … and that you’ll fix the fuck what done him … OK?’

Only Roberts and the wino remained. Then it came to him-the wino outside Tony’s door. The man said, ‘Sorry for your trouble, he was a gent he was. Gave me a few quid now and again.’

Roberts reached for his wallet and the man was horrified. ‘I didn’t come here for beggin’.’

‘I know, I appreciate that, but for a last one with … Tony … would you humour me?’

The wino was indignant but not stupid, took the cash, said, ‘So long’s you know I didn’t come cos o’ that.’

Roberts nodded, stood alone for a moment then whispered, ‘Goodbye Tony, I’ll fix the fuck what done you … OK, lad?’