Books, Poetry & Prose: [47] A Glasgow Dynasty: Part 1 - The Man Fae The TV Licence



Books, Poetry & Prose

Samples of my very own Poetry and Short Stories, and one or two not so short stories, as well as my thoughts on Books, Writing, Life and the Universe.

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I was born in Motherwell, an industrial town in Scotland. I have lived in various parts of the world, including Edinburgh, London, New York, Seattle and now Australia's Gold Coast Hinterland where I have settled with my Australian wife Kerrianne. If you are into Books, Literature and Writing, welcome to my weblog. If not, welcome anyway.

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  • [70]Aussie Cave Man
  • [69]No Shit
  • [68]Smoking Damages Your Brain
  • [67]Whatever Happened To Private Grief?
  • [66]A Lucrative Enterprise?
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  • [64]Scotland's Shame
  • [63]Bank Aid
  • [62]It's A Girl Thing
  • [61]The Kids Are Alright
  • [60]Return to Sender
  • [59]Gender Poetry
  • [58]Humour for Wordsmiths
  • [57]The Gold Coast
  • [56]A Glasgow Dynasty : Part 6 - Erchie's First Sale
  • [55]I Haven't Lived
  • [54]A Glasgow Dynasty: Part 5 - Slappin' a Polis
  • [53]A Glasgow Dynasty: Part 4 - Pissin' up a Close
  • [52]The God Delusion
  • [51]Maternal Advice
  • [50]A Glasgow Dynasty: Part 3 - Broken Biscuits
  • [49]A Killing Kindness
  • [48]A Glasgow Dynasty: Part 2 - Pissin' in the Sink
  • [47]A Glasgow Dynasty: Part 1 - The Man Fae The TV Licence
  • [46]A Slap on the Face
  • [45]How Did We Survive?
  • [44]The Black Hole
  • [43]Buried Alive
  • [42]The World Cup
  • [41]In the Movies...
  • [40]My Favourite Writers: James Kelman
  • [39]Vital Football
  • [38]My Favourite Beer
  • [37]The Dream
  • [36]Comb For Sale
  • [35]McNulty's Law
  • [34]Beware of the Dog
  • [33]The Substitute: An Extract from my Novel
  • [32]Books That Became Films
  • [31]Tall Boys and Wide Girls
  • [30]My First Novel: The Substitute
  • [29]My Favourite Writers: Louis de Bernières
  • [28]My 25 Favourite Films
  • [27]Decisions Decisions
  • [26]Devil's Desire
  • [25]Pain or Pleasure
  • [24]Out of the Mouths of Babes and Sucklings
  • [23]No More Tears
  • [22]Dame Muriel Spark 1918-2006
  • [21]10 Things I Miss About Scotland
  • [20]Little Red Riding Hood
  • [19]Natural Bridge
  • [18]Journey to Nowhere
  • [17]Westminster Man
  • [16]My 25 Favourite Albums
  • [15]Bless Me Father
  • [14]Overdrawn
  • [13]I've had it with Born-Again Christians
  • [12]Moonwalking
  • [11]My 25 Favourite Books
  • [10]Heroes and Sinners
  • [09]Thinking of Kerry
  • [08]An American Dream
  • [07]Never Again
  • [06]Under A Bridge
  • [05]Deep-Fried Madness
  • [04]Man in a Bookshop
  • [03]Was There A Time?
  • [02]The Executioner
  • [01]Will I Know Her?
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    Moby Dick


    "Nobody is perfect, but if you strive for perfection, you will never descend to mediocrity."


    Kerrianne



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    [47] A Glasgow Dynasty: Part 1 - The Man Fae The TV Licence

    A Glasgow Dynasty is a collection of stories written around the life and times of the Mitchells, a Glasgow family - a dysfunctional Glasgow family - a dysfunctional Glasgow family whose members pull no punches in the day-to-day struggle for survival and an incessant pursuit of the main chance, against all the odds.

    A Glasgow Dynasty is a gritty and uncompromising look at the underbelly of Glasgow working-class life at its rawest and meanest, as well as its most inspiring and uplifting. As such, these stories are told in a vernacular that might not appeal to readers from outwith Scotland, and in language that is at times brutal and shocking, and will certainly not be to the liking of the more sensitive and easily offended. I make no apology for either.

    The Man Fae The TV Licence is the first in a series of stories chronicling the life of the Mitchells – A Family Dynasty.

    You have been warned.


    Part 1 - The Man Fae The TV Licence.

    Tam’s day started off badly and quickly went downhill. Brenda, his long suffering wife, interrupted his peaceful slumber by tossing a bundle of mail on to the bed. One particularly bulky item caught him a direct hit on the bridge of his nose. The sudden pain caused him to jolt his head back involuntarily, only to crack his skull against the wooden headrest.

    “Jesus wummin are ye tryin tae finish me aff aw the gither?” he cried, rubbing both his nose and the back of his head at the same time.

    “Don’t tempt me,” replied Brenda as she sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on her boots.

    Tam yawned and let out a rasping cough as he gently raised himself to a sitting position. He lit his first cigarette of the day and began to tear open the mail.

    “Fuckin bills. Is that aw ah ever git these days, fuckin bills?”

    “Whit’s yer problem?” replied Brenda. “It’s no you that has tae pay them is it?”

    “Aye too bliddy right it’s no,” shouted Ringo from the bedroom across the hall.

    Ringo had already got to his feet and was stretching himself, releasing the cobwebs in preparation for the day ahead. He looked down at his younger brother Malky who shared the double bed.

    “Are you no gonnae get up’n look furra joab ya lazy wee shite?”

    Malky grunted some sort of reply and began to roll a cigarette. Ringo rubbed the pain in his back and cursed under his breath.

    “Haw ma,” he shouted. “Ye’ll hiv tae git me a new bed. Ah cannae sleep on they springs any mair.”

    “It’s awright fur you,” complained Malky. “Ah’ve goat tae lie here aw bliddy day.”

    Having surveyed the day’s mail and discarded it on to the floor, Tam lay back again and drew on his cigarette as he stared at the ceiling. Brenda’s attention was drawn to the loud red print on what was clearly a bill which was well overdue. She leaned forward and picked it up. She read the contents with some trepidation.

    “Is that yer answer is it,” she said. “Jist toss it on the flair’n hope it’ll go away?”

    “Whit’re ye oan aboot?”

    “This,” she raised her voice, waving the document in front of him. “It’s a final demand fae the electricity board.”

    “Thank God,” said Tam. “Ah thought the bastards wid never gae up.”

    Brenda threw the bill back on to the floor and got to her feet, cursing under her breath.

    “Any spare dosh on ye hen?”

    “Aye that wull be right.”

    “Ah’m seein wee Hughie doon the road aboot a joab, honest. Ah cannae very well walk intae a boozer wi nae readies noo can ah.”

    “You must think ma heed button’s up the back,” replied Brenda.

    Tam watched her pull on her coat and rush out of the bedroom.

    “Ah’m gonnae be late if ah don’t get a move on.”

    As she opened the front door she was met by two men, one in his middle years and carrying a briefcase. The other, whom Brenda imagined to be in his mid twenties, held a clip board under his arm.

    “Mrs Mitchell?” said the older of the two, his manner both officious and unsmiling.

    “Who wants tae know?” she replied, eyeing them both up and down suspiciously.

    The man produced an identity card.

    “Television Licensing Authority. We called last week.”

    “Oh aye that’s right, sorry, ah didnae recognise ye withoot the red mist in ma eyes.”

    “Did you manage to buy a licence as promised?”

    It was the turn of the younger man to speak.

    “Aye, ah did that. If ye don’t mind ah’m in a hurry, ma bus’ll be alang directly.”

    “It won’t take a minute,” he would not to be put off. “If we could just see the licence.”

    “Look, the door’s no locked. Jist go right in, up the sterrs, first bedroom on the right. Ye’ll find the licence in a shoe box under the bed.”

    The two men watched her scurry along the road for some moments before entering the house and proceeding nervously up the stairs. The older gentleman entered the bedroom and silently raised his arm, indicating that his colleague should wait in the hallway. He got down on his knees and quickly located the shoe box.

    “Whit the...who the hell are you?” exclaimed Tam.

    The two men had failed to notice his presence under the crumpled blankets.

    “Oh...er...Mr Mitchell, we’re from the Television Licensing Authority. We’d just like to check your licence.”

    “Whit the fuck are ye doin doon there then?”

    “It’s ok Mr Mitchell. The licence is located in this shoe box under the bed.”

    “Holy Jesus,” declared Tam. “That’s some bliddy detector van you’ve got.”

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