[53] A Glasgow Dynasty: Part 4 - Pissin' up a Close

Ringo sat impassively in the waiting room at Glasgow Sheriff Court. All around him were an assortment of individuals. Opposite sat a respectable looking woman. Ringo guessed her to be in her late fifties. She had been rummaging through her handbag for about ten minutes, her head lowered, her hands trembling. Ringo put her strange behaviour down to nerves. She was probably new to this situation, he thought, the shame of her predicament eating away at her sanity.

He began to wonder what her crime was. Shoplifting, he told himself. The great equaliser. The one indiscretion that can befall the most respectable of people. Then they find themselves sitting in places like this. Cold, dark, unfriendly. In the company of muggers, rapists, murderers...and shoplifters.

“Hullo Richard.”

He hadn’t noticed the girl enter the waiting room. He looked up at her for some moments before jumping to his feet and, taking her by the arm, he led her abruptly out into the corridor.

“What are ye doin here Sarah? Ah thought ah said ah’d meet ye later.”

“I know but, well, I just thought you could do with some moral support.”

“But ah told ye. It’s only a minor offence. Ah’ll probably get off wi a ten pound fine.”

“I know that but still. It can’t be nice for you having to come to a place like this.”

Ringo was not inclined to tell her that he had been in places like this many times before, and he found her innocence rather touching.

“I know.”

His tone was calmer now.

“And ah do appreciate it. C’mere.”

He planted a kiss on her lips and they embraced.

“Look, ah’ll need to go now. You go over to the cafeteria and have yersel a cup of tea. Ah’ll join ye jist as soon as ah’m free.”

“You haven’t changed your mind have you?”

She held his hand and looked deep into his eyes.

“About the mortgage I mean.”

“Aw no of course not,” he reassured her. “Ah can’t stand it in that house any mair. Two o’clock the appointment’s at. We’ve got bags of time. On ye go. Ah’ll be with ye shortly.”

Ringo smiled as he walked back to the waiting room. He had taken little convincing that he and Sarah should buy their own flat. After all, he told himself, they were both in steady jobs and together they could easily afford a modest property. Today they would see the bank manager and get things moving, he reminded himself, then he would take great pleasure in announcing it to his folks.

“Richard Mitchell.”

His dreams were interrupted by the voice of the court usher which seemed to reverberate throughout the building. Ringo paused momentarily and instinctively straightened his tie before calmly strolling into the courtroom.

He was led to the dock where he stood in silence for several minutes while the court officials whispered amongst themselves. He looked towards the public gallery which was almost filled to capacity. All eyes were on him and he began to imagine himself as the condemned man.

“Richard Mitchell.”

The clerk of the court looked at him over half moon spectacles.

“You are charged with urinating in a public place. How do you plead?”

“Well it wasnae really a public place . . .”

“Please just answer the question,” said the bewigged and berobed Sheriff. “You’ll have ample opportunity to speak up.”

“How do you plead?” the clerk of the court repeated his request.

“Guilty,” replied Ringo.

Some more whispered conversations ensued before the clerk of the court called out for Constable McCallum. Ringo watched as the police officer entered the court and walked stiffly towards the stand. He picked up a card and read out some sort of oath which Ringo could not hear. Then the Procurator Fiscal began to speak.

“Constable McCallum. You are the arresting officer in this case are you not?”

“That is correct,” said Constable McCallum in a gruff, rehearsed voice.

“Could you please tell the court what happened on the night in question.”

“May I consult my notebook your honour?”

“By all means.”

Constable McCallum already had his notebook in his hand, opened at the right page. He let out a cough and scratched the tip of his nose before proceeding.

“I was mobile with my colleague Constable Smith in Dumbarton Road at approximately twenty-three fifty hours when I observed the accused, who had been walking with a group of youths, break off from the group and enter a close which led to a number of occupied dwelling houses.”

He paused and coughed once again as he turned the page.

“Suspecting that the accused was possibly about to commit an offence, Constable Smith and I walked over to the building and entered the close. I went first and at the back of the close, which was dimly lit, I observed the accused urinating against the wall. I approached the accused, placed my hand on his shoulder and, thinking that I might let him off with a warning on this occasion, said ‘Do you realise that could cost you a fiver?’ whereupon the accused put his hand in his pocket, pulled out his wallet and replied ‘How much for a crap then?’”

At this point pandemonium broke out in the court. The public benches were in an uproar as hysterical laughter filled the court room. Even the court officials were at great pains to suppress their laughter. The sheriff was clearly trying his best not to join in the merriment and after composing himself he called for silence in the court. All the while Ringo stayed calm, not wishing to incur the wrath of the court.

“Thank you Constable McCallum. That will be all,” said the Procurator Fiscal.

The policeman’s face was bright red as he turned to leave the witness box.

“Stay where you are for now constable,” said the Sheriff with some urgency. “We shan’t detain you much longer.”

Constable McCallum resumed his former position and glanced nervously at the Fiscal, who merely coughed and sat down once again.

“Mr Mitchell.” He removed his glasses before continuing.

“You have a record of petty offences and normally I would have no hesitation in fining you accordingly. However, on this occasion I am prepared, in view of the welcome degree of levity you have brought to the proceedings this morning.”

At that the court officials laughed momentarily in a gesture of agreement while, to Ringo’s utter astonishment, the sheriff was actually smiling broadly.

“I am prepared to fine you the modest sum of five pounds.”

“Do you require time to pay?”

It was the Clerk of the Court’s turn to speak.

“Yes. I mean no,” said Ringo, reaching for his wallet.

“Can you change a twenty?” he said, looking at the sheriff as he held the note in his hand.

More laughter reverberated through the public gallery.

The Sheriff glowered at him.

A court official handed him a note and gestured that he should leave the dock.

“You may pay the fine at the cash office Mr Mitchell.”

He walked through the body of the court, past the members of the public and as he did so, groups of people burst into fits of laughter. As he walked through the exit door he heard the sheriff call for order.

“Silence in court. The fun is over, now may we take the next case?”