GUEST BLOGGER: Royston Blake - "Blakey on tour Part 6"

(A serialised story. Part one here)

'Did yis get that?'

'Aye.'

'Did yis, though? Ye cannae fuck this up, Royston.'

'Nah, I'm alright, Jock, just a bit... Why'd you want us to do this, again?'

'I need youse to create a distraction. Over there, away from this hearse. Youse do that and I'll take care o' Mr. fuckin' Vampire here. So go oan. I'll meet yis roond the back and pick yis up. OK?'

'Aye, aye... and you'll can get my hearse started, right? I need this hearse, Jock. I'm off on holiday, see. Thought I'd go to—'

'I'll get yis fuckin' hearse started. Now go oan.'

'Right you is, Jock. Right you...'

I were still in a bit of a daze, truth be telled. About everything Jock had just telled us, like. I'd only picked up the odd word here and there but it had been enough. Enough to know I'd been right all along about that place where they kept the hearse being a bit odd, and the bloke in it who I'd decked being a vampire. Enough to know I weren't alone. Enough to know I had to put me own wossnames aside for the minute and do exactly like he'd said, down to the fucking letter. Which in this case is a big S.

Cos Jock were ahead of the game, vampire-wise.

He were so far ahead of the game I reckon he'd lapped it a couple of times.

I says a big S there, but I gotta admit I weren't convinced. If I'd heard it right, it were a fucking top idea in terms of creating a distraction. So top that I couldn't believe I hadn't thought of it before. Mind you, I'd best see if it works first. And to that end, as I went round the front of the grid and onto the pavement, I started getting ready, loosening my top shirt buttons and humming the first couple of bars.

While I'm doing that I might as well bring you up to wossname on what Jock had telled us, about the secret life he'd been leading these past few years. See, while everyone thought he were just doing the burgers, he were actually keeping Mangel safe from creatures of the night. And I'm on about vampires, not badgers, though they can also be a menace. Apparently, right, five percent of Mangel's population is vampires right now, though you wouldn't know it if you just went about your daily life and stayed home nights. But if you keep unsociable hours, like Jock with his van parked up Frotfield Way to cater for all the ravers coming out of Rockefellers, you got the full picture. And Jock had seen it... right down to his very own son getting snatched from out of his van by a giant vampire bat, who carried him up to the roof of Rockefellers and turned back into human form, then feasted on the poor youngun's blood. Ever since that moment Jock had dedicated his life to getting revenge, learning all about how they operate, what their weaknesses is and where they doss during the day. Which turns out to be the place where they keep the hearse.

I think that's what he said, anyhow.

Who could blame the poor cunt, though? I'd be doing same if my lad had got snatched by some evil cunts who can turn into bats. Hey, maybe that were what happened to him? All I knowed is Little Royston had gone missing a few years back, presumed snatched by an evil witch who wanted to bring him up as her own. Who's to say it weren't a vampire what got him? And the more I thought about it, the more I could see how it had to be the case. I mean, fifty fucking percent of the Mangel population, Jock had said. That's about a quarter of the people in town. With them kinds of odds staring you in the face, you just know. Do you know what I mean? I knew what I meant anyhow, even if you don't, you thick cunt. And right there and then, as I stepped up onto the wall of the Youth Centre and removed my final garment, which were my trolleys, I swore a solemn oath that I'd rid Mangel of all creatures of the night. Except badgers. And hedgehogs.

'When I said... I neeeeded you...'

Personally I ain't got a problem with nudity. Not in meself and not in others, so long as them others is birds. When it's meself getting togless, like I were now, I look at it as a great opportunity to show birds what I got, and how much better I am than other blokes. They don't like it, other blokes don't, cos it makes them look bad and opens their girlfriends' and wives' eyes to what they could be getting if they had a man like me. But that ain't my problem. My problem, as set by Jock the vampire hunter just now, were to create a distraction using the S word - namely stripping. He'd also suggested singing 'You Don't Have to Say You Love Me' by Elvis Presley at the top of my voice, which I thought were a nice touch.

'You said you... would aaaalways stay...'

And I'll tell you summat – it were working like a fucking dream. Not only did I have every set of eyes in that traffic jam turned in my direction just then, enabling Jock to get on with his vampire hunting business in peace, but I were also quite enjoying meself. And my audience were as well. They was taking photos and getting out their motors and cheering and whistling and everything.

'It weren't me... who chaaaanged, but you... and—'

'Oi, Peewee Herman!' one of em shouted. I think it were Michael Ballot from the hairy factory.

'Herman who?' I shouted back. He were alright, Michael Ballot. Bit of a cunt, mind.

'I says Peewee Herman! You, with yer fuckin' peewee out!'

'Eh? Fuck d'you mean by that?'

'Blake.' This one were more nearer, one of the motors on the gutterside who had the best view. Also it were a bird's voice. And sort of whispered, but loud. 'Blake,' it went again.

I still hadn't let Michael Ballot off the hook but I did a quick scan of the motors nearest us, latching onto one that had a bird leaning out of it and showing a bit of cleavage. I felt meself stirring down there and went to cover meself up, then noticed who it were.

'Alright, Rache?' I says, going over and not bothering to cover meself up no more. I'd always felt at ease with Rache.


(Come back on tomorrow for the next bit...)