Hamish McShanks

Hamish McShanks Secret Diary – w/e 27^th November 2005

‘Thank crunchie it’s Friday!’ I sighed whilst starting up the car. It had seemed like a very long week and I was looking forward to getting home and cracking open a tinny of lager. The traffic wasn’t too bad as I exited work and we were moving along quite nicely for a Friday night. About a mile from my home I noticed the vehicle behind was furiously flashing their lights ‘mmm..what?’ I checked and my fog lights weren’t on, my lights were on, I wasn’t speeding or dawdling, I wasn’t emitting plumes of blue smoke. Yet still the flashing lights?

I knew the lights from the car behind were illuminating me in glorious Technicolor so naturally I tapped the side of my baldy heid and made corkscrew motions with my finger to indicate to the driver that perhaps he should stop flashing his lights. This had little effect, in fact I could vaguely see my hand gesture being returned. Time to move onto stage two of hand communication. I raised my left arm and let it pivot laterally at the elbow whilst simultaneously holding my hand in a position that would suggest I was clutching a cylindrical object. The flashing became yet more fervent.

I was going to progress to stage three when my exit appeared. I indicated to turn right and noted with some apprehension that my pursuer did the same, following me off the main road ‘okay Ham don’t panic, it’s just a coincidence’ about 100yrds later I indicated to turn right again. So did he. ‘Okay Ham now you can panic’ I took a left and two more rights, he was still with me ‘uhuuu huuu huuu’ I started to bubble

I was nearly home and was going to have to choose ‘fight or flight!’ I have to say flight was very appealing but as I was already at home, where to flee was the problem. This left me with fight. I pulled up outside my house and switched off the engine, my pursuer parked directly behind me ‘Ok Ham let’s get our retaliation in first’ my heart was beating like a hammer ‘no mercy’ sweat was pouring off my brow ‘it’s survival of the fittest’ I burst out of the car like a polaris missle, shouting and screaming a terrifying war cry ‘Aaaarrgggghhh yooo bassstaa-’

Well I’m sure it would have been terrifying if I hadn’t trodden on a fragment of dog keech as I burst out my car door. The combination of partially digested dog food and frosty pavement made for a fine impromptu slide. Not quite the fearsome impression I was aiming for as I slid less than gracefully past his door whilst attempting to balance on one leg ‘-aaaardoooaaahhh’. Unlike frosty excrement thorny shrubbery does not provide an efficient skating surface nor indeed a soft landing ‘ooooooomppf’

My brother stepped out of his car and glanced at the bushes ‘mind your step, you could hurt yourself’ he sniggered as I struggled to free myself from the jagged thorns which were ripping my clothing to pieces ‘You! I thought you were a-‘, ‘Oh and yer tail light is out by the way, I’ve been flashing my lights at you for ages, didn’t you see me?’ he continued, getting his bag out of the boot. ‘I eeer ummm well’ He thrust the bag into my hands, shook his head, and marched towards the house ‘ye can choose yer friends’

All was forgotten over a munchie box and several cold lagers, ok quite a number of cold lagers, ok a shitload of cold lagers ‘s’really good this mmm pakora init’ Frazer gave me a withering stare ‘that’s a piece of the box ye fud’. I struggled to focus on the brown fragment in my hand ‘are yooo suure?’, ‘well it’s got a name printed on it’ he replied scathingly ‘perhaps your pakora is sponsored by The Spice Garden’, ‘Noo I doont fink soo thish is from the 4 in 1’ He just rolled his eyes and watched me crack open another beer ‘Five, four, three-‘, ‘what yedoin’ I slurred ‘yer on your third beer’, ‘sho’, ‘I’m counting you out’, ‘what? yoo cheeky bas’, ‘two’, ‘yooo saying ahcannay hold ma-‘, ‘one’, ‘drinzzzzzzzz’, ‘and it’s all over sports fans’

It was about seven in the morning when I awoke ‘ooohma heid’ my face was in the munchie box and I had a slice of donner stuck to my left cheek. It would appear my brother had simply eaten around my prone body. I was feeling a tad unwell and severely blocked up ‘musdt have a cold or dunfing coming on’ I mumbled whilst staggering to the toilet. After emptying my bladder I went to wash my hands, I glanced in the mirror ‘fnn baaaastard’. A large chip had been inserted up each nostril, I looked like a walrus ‘fnn dirty baaastard’

Washed, shaved and bereft of chips I sat in the kitchen savouring my cup of tea and wondering what to do until the rugby kicked off at three. It was a nice sunny day and I thought this a perfect opportunity to go and sort the rear light on my car. I’d even had the foresight to buy a bulb kit from Halfords for just sucj an eventuality. All I had to do was get the old one out, how hard could it be?

Well it would have been quite straight forward if I was a left handed dwarf with long thin hands, x-ray vision and a talent for puzzles. Sadly I am a right handed, lardbucket myopic with hands like dinner plates! Oh and absolutely no patience ‘bloody stupid useless fecking bul-‘, ’having problems?’. I didn’t even look up ‘nope I’m doing fine thank you’ I replied through gritted teeth. I could hear tea being slurped noisily ‘So the lights supposed to be in that many pieces is it?’, ‘yes’, ‘your sure?’, ‘yes‘, ‘so you don’t want any help then?’. My impatience got the better of my anger ‘aye go on then’

With hindsight I probably should have mentioned the struts holding up the back door was gubbed. You’d think he would have guessed with the broom handle propping it up and all. In my defence it all happened rather quickly. Fraz is left handed so he had a much better angle to get at the light fitting, conversely he had a much greater risk of knocking out the broom handle. I realised this just as the door dropped ‘right I think that’s it in-THUMP-aarrrghhhhhh’ I didn’t even laugh it looked that sore, although I did take a picture as it looked like the car was eating him! C’mon are you saying you wouldn’t? I just wished I’d managed to video it - £250 in the bank!

I extracted him from the jaws of the car and helped him inside ‘alright twinny dinna worry, you have a seat and I’ll get a brew on’ I left him in the living room and went to put the kettle on. Ten seconds later there was an almighty crash ‘Aaaaaah sweet jeeeesus my spine!’ I rushed back through to see him lying on the floor underneath the lazee boy recliner ‘Aaah yes I meant to say about that chair’ His face was a rictus of pain and he was stuttering and puffing as he tried to point a twisted finger at me ‘youfffn .. youfffnn .. you fnnpriiiiick’

And he didn’t even stay for the rugby? …. How rude …..

Doei