The Demise of Roland Ratso: Chapter ninety four

Monday 15th June and the effects of the bottle of red are quite apparent although I am not going to blame it for my malaise. I spend most of the day in bed cursing my feet. Tuesday and I feel much better and I am now a man on a mission. I have got to meet an investogator on Wednesday because one of my fellow councullors has reported me to the Standards Board so I have to pull all sorts of files off the computer. My black ink has run out but I have another cunning plan (Number 383.2) where I will convert all of the bumph into coloured font and print them off using colour. The problem is that I cannot read the colours very well as they all a bit anaemic (like me) so it looks like I will have to go and get another black one. I have to go to West Bridgford to the bank so I decide to bite the bullet and off I go, The sun was shining and I can hardly hold the steering wheel of the car because it is so hot. As I was walking to the bank I can hear an alarm going off “BEEP BEEP BEEP etc” and waddling up to the bank I can see a black rag top Mercedes being driven by a very attractive young lady behind a dustcart which has got its reversing lights on. There are cars parked on the left hand side and several cars at the front of the dust cart. The driver of the dustcart jumps out and shouts at the lady in the Merc that she will have to reverse out of his way. “But where will I go?” she asks. “Look lady, “ he responds, “ unless you reverse out of my way so I can let these cars in front of me get past no-one is going anywhere.” “Yes but I want to go to the bank car park,” she says. “Just move your car and then we can all get to where we want ot be.” “But where will I go, “ she asks again. By this time the driver is getting ready to explode. “Just shift your fucking car!” he shouts. She responds with “well really, there is no need for language.” The driver gets back in his cab shouting as he does so “if you don’t shift it I will shift it for you!” and he puts his lorry in reverse again and starts to creep backwards. The lady in the Merc slams her car in reverse and shoots backwards stopping a whole line of traffic, sticks a finger up at the dustcart driver and then disappears leaving a load of rubber on the tarmac. The incident reminded very much of an old friend, Dave, sadly no longer with us having succumbed to cancer several years ago. Dave was a real rough diamond – but a genuine “Cockney sparra” with a heart of gold and a sense of humour to match but not a man to be trifled with. Dave was driving a lorry on the A1 when there was a diesel strike and he pulled into a service station to get fuelled up. The garage had a sign saying “cash only” no agency which is a lorry drivers type of credit card. Dave went into the filling station and asked the cashier if he would just give him some diesel on the card so he could get home. The cashier refused. Dave tried bribing him. He still refused. He tried his Cockney charm to no avail. The cashier still refused. Dave got in his lorry and backed over all of the diesel pumps smashing them to pieces shouting “If I can’t get any diesel no-one will.” Many years later when he got out of prison he became a bus driver. He was driving down a street where cars were parked on both sides of the road just leaving enough room for his bus to get through. The bus is packed and as he is nearing the end of the chicane, there is a car that has just started along the road in his way. Dave toots his horn and waves the driver to back up. The driver sits firm and stands his ground. Dave gets out of his cab and goes down to the driver and asks him in his cheerry chirpy manner to back up. The driver claims he has right of way and tells Dave to back up. Dave is not impressed. He has got to reverse his forty foot long bus over one hundred yards while the car driver has only got a few feet to reverse. Dave tells him that he is being unreasonable. The car driver again states that he has got the right of way – which he obviously hasn’t. Dave tells him to move his car or he will move it for him. Again the driver refused so Dave got back in his bus and to the cheers and clapping of the passengers starts to push the car down the road. While the passengers may have been impressed, the police, the magistrates and the bus company weren’t and Dave sadly joined the dole queue. He lived in an upstairs flat opposite where we lived and one day he opened the garden gate to see his downstairs neighbour laying in the garden. He shook him vigourously and there was no response. He shook him again to no avail so went up into his flat and got a bucket of water which he threw over his neighbour. No response so he dialled nine nine nine. When the ambulance arrived he was asked what happened. Dave replied that he had opened the garden gate and the old man was on the floor. “Why is he wet?” asked the ambulance man. “Cos I threw a bucket of water over him!” Dave responded. “Why did you do that ?” the ambulance man asked. “To wake the old codger up!” was Dave’s reply. There are many Dave’s in this world, Gawd bless ‘em! Anyway I get to the bank to pay me cheque in. A very pleasant female teller aske me if I want a receipt and I tell her “No. thanks.” She then asks if there is anything else she can do to help. I ask her if she can come and help me finish off decorating the bathroom because Irene is getting fed up with me. She collapses in a heap of laughter and I leave the bank with a big grin on my face knowing that I have made someone’s day which is what life is all about. _______________________________________________________