Hamish McShanks

Hamish McShanks Secret Diary w/e 23^rd January 2005

Scrape scrape scrape, brush brush, scrape scrape scrape …. brush brush. It was a pretty awkward position and I had to work with the benefit of an angled mirror. Another twenty minutes of patient scraping and all the skanky bits were off, my brush was looking a bit worse for wear though. I admired the fruits of my labour ‘That’s more like it were looking all ship shaped and Bristol fashion’. The back of the toilet bowl was positively gleaming. ‘Right just the clag under the rim now-‘ I heard the front door open ‘Awright bruv where are ye?’, ‘Eeer just cleaning the cludge gies a minute’ I hastily rinsed the black bits off his toothbrush and put it back in the stand.

‘What are ye doing’ he enquired as he opened the door ‘Eeer Just a bit of spring cleaning’ I replied whilst feverishly scrubbing the wash hand basin and trying to look innocent ‘I thought ye were supposed to be studying?’, ‘Aye well-.’, ‘Yer exam on household hygiene is it?’, ‘No I-‘, ‘Honours degree in convenience management is it?’, ‘Ha ha you know fine well it’s-‘, ‘I know it’s not going to get done through here is it laddy?’ He gave me an exasperated look before shaking his head and departing. As soon as he was out of sight I gave him the finger before removing my marigolds.

I returned to the lounge and looked gloomily at my study timetable. It sat proudly atop my books, colour coded and beautifully laminated. I was secretly wishing I hadn’t laminated it so I could now schedule in ‘Kick twin brothers balls 19:00-19:05hrs’. The smug git was sitting there opening a bottle of my red wine ‘found the wine then did you?’ I said sarcastically ‘Aye fine thanks, how’s the studying going then, finished your dissertation on the varying absorbencies of brand name toilet rolls versus greaseproof paper have you?’ I ignored his laughter and sat down .

I was supposed to be studying for my Financial Planning Certificate (FPC) not that I wish to be an IFA or have the slightest interest in financial services. But it is the industry I have found myself in and in a moment of madness I thought it might help me understand ‘what we do’. I suppose in a way it has helped me understand certain things. For instance now I understand what sleep apnea must be like, not a great deal of use when it comes to the ins and outs of mortgages I’ll agree. But never lose the opportunity to learn that’s what I say, except when I’m saying ‘Bloody hell this is dull as ditchwater’

I picked up my books and trudged through to the bedroom leaving my brother guzzling the red wine immersed in ‘101 ways to be a tosser’. With hindsight the bed probably wasn’t the most conducive location to try and study something that was interminably dull. I lay back and flipped open the text book at Legislative requirements ‘Oh scintillating stuff’ I wasn’t even through the first paragraph before my brain was turning to mulch, I fought to keep my eyes open but to no avail. Even the introduction of sticky tape on each eyelid didn’t help and I began to mutter ‘cant read anymore ….. will to live disappearing … eyelids drooping …. feeling very slee..zzzzzzz……’

I don’t know how long I was out but when I opened my eyes I found myself somewhere very strange. Tall scantily clad and heavily armed women were walking down an ancient earthen road. The buildings were best described as primitive, worse even than a wimpy show home. I was also standing in nothing but my underpants.

Actually that wouldn’t have been too bad if they were my underpants. But I was wearing a pair of Y-fronts! Y-fronts!!! Off-white, urine stained, gaping pocket Y fecking fronts. They are a crime against underwear! Who could possibly design a garment that can simultaneously choke your nuts and have your old man hanging out in the breeze? Hmmmm? Cmon? A bloody woman that’s who! Y-fronts are woman’s revenge for ….. for …….. for …….EVERYTHING!!

‘Okay Ham don’t worry, your just in a dream, simply concentrate and you’ll wake up’ I closed my eyes and counted to ten. When I opened them again I was still in the street. I tried again, this time I really concentrated, I could feel my forehead wrinkling up with the effort and knew my heid was turning a fetching crimson. I opened my eyes ……. ‘b*gger’. I was still there and now an enormous 18 stone heavily muscled warrior ‘maiden’ was taking a definite interest in the rotund baldy man wearing the yellow stained biffs and looking like he was trying to curl one down in his underwear.

This seemed as good a point as any to leggit, you know how these dreams go, fighting people off that just laugh when you hit them, being unable to run because your legs are like jelly or your stuck in a deep bog. All the while the object of your fear pursues you relentlessly laughing and cackling as it drives you into the very depths of terror before you finally wake up in a cold sweat.

‘Right sod you pal lets gerrit over with and I can wake up in the nick of time’ I turned to the mountain maiden and enquired ‘Who ate all the pies? who ate all the pies? You fat bas-‘ and she was after me. I have to admit she had a surprising turn of pace for such a large woman but then again this was a dream so she was bound to catch me.

I sprinted down the street turning left at the sign marked Swamp ‘That’ll do me’ I accelerated hard up the hill glancing briefly over my shoulder. She didn’t seem to be gaining ‘Pick it up sweetheart I haven’t got all day, and a bit more cackling wouldn’t go amiss!’ I think the sweetheart jibe did the trick and she ratched it up a notch or two steam coming out of her ears and her eyes burning with hatred.

I was coming over the brow of the hill when I spotted the next sign Danger Quicksand accompanied by a nice skull and crossbones motif ‘Sweet’. I slowed to a canter and picked out the boggiest looking route. Sure enough within 30 seconds I was stuck waist deep in quick sand ‘Oh no woe is me’ I wailed ‘I’m soooo scared’ I continued. A few minutes passed and there was no sign of my pursuer ‘cmon luv gerra shift on I’ve got to wake up now!’ I heard a twig crack behind me ‘bout fecking time too’

I struggled round to see this goliath of a woman brandishing a fairly hefty hickory stick ‘Cmon sweetheart give it some laldy’ She lifted it high over her head and swung down ‘Here we go, wakey wakooompppfff … sweet fecking jesummmppfff’ ‘Aaah’

These blows felt real, I opened my eyes and my brother was slapping me across the face ‘Wake up yer having a nightmare’, ‘Ok ok I’m awake’ he continued slapping ‘I’m fecking awake!’, ‘Just making sure’ and with a couple of more slaps he left.

Ah well only ten days till the exam …………..

Doei