Never On Saturday – part 2

April 20, 2012 § Leave a comment

To save time and space I’ll pick up the story several hours later.

When the brothers B talked one with the other after the visitors departed a second time..

“A nice young fella the Riley,” said Merv to Nathaniel, continuing, “and a nice future if he stays away from the wideboy Casey that spooked young John back at the shop.”

“Wideboy, now that says it.. for him,” saith Nathaniel, “sharp on the law wasn’t he? Did you hear when our Fuzz friend stepped up the ante with a Scotland Yard quip or two.”

“No, I didn’t, go on then, tell us Nat.”

“Said how interesting his job must be what with all the scots in his yard.”

And despite the repetition both laughed together at Casey’s nerve.

“Cheeky, eh. No respect for him. Nor us. I mean, Saturday of all days! Mind you I think I’ve gottim sorted. I mean cheek isn’t everything now is it.”

Nathaniel was quiet a moment, looking him over, watching a familiar twist at the corner of his mouth. “Okay,” he said presently, “what you been up to? The suits—was it the suits?”

“Sort of. Yeah, you know me, and you did ask me to help the Riley boy. I mentioned being in the rag trade, but like you, never on Saturday”

“You took money didn’t you, I saw you folding notes so don’t deny it.”

“Well,” said the other, spreading his hands, “a man has to ease his conscience doesn’t he? Now you mention it I took ten bob from the Riley and a pound from the Casey. Packed them off as you know for the game at the Park and had them come back to pick up what I’d stitched together while they were out. Well, actually, between you and me, what I pulled off the spares rack. Looked great in a dinner suit did that Casey fella—”

“Spares rack?—the penguin?—you didn’t did you Merv!!

“Did so,” said Merv with a fair flourish at the the brogue. And they went to slapping each other on the backs in rollicking amusement at what was before the departed..

CUT to.. [ pedestrian stream of evening-goers approaching the Hammersmith Palais de Dance. Sky overcast but street lights coming on as several groups converse excitedly.. one is a group of young women in front of shall we say the Casey crowd..]

Brenda to Maureen with a guffaw, “You reckon, Mo, looks more like a bluddy penguin to me. Dunno, takes all sorts—”

“Toff, I say, out for dinner and down here for dessert. I wouldn’t mind, only gotta ask.”

“What’s ta ask? Pig-ignorant that one, I’ll bet.”

“Shurrup! Penguins, pigs, that’s you. Attitood like that neveh gets asked.

Behind them, Riley catches her eye and winks, watching her laughter at his gesture. A watchful Casey, behind him, says: “Good dancer that one I’d say, Riley. The other one now.. whaddya reckon?”

“Blonde—you go fer blondes Casey?”

“Peroxide y’mean? Neveh blonde, not that one. Outta a bottle. Now, that reminds me, and here’s something you don’t know, Riley boy. Human hair’s dead y’know. Yeah, frum the day it comes outta ya scalp.. ya skin.. skull skin. Now that peroxide does nothing for dead.. while those apothecary’s make a small fortune flogging it ta dumb birds.”

“She’s dumb then is she?”

“Fancy—dating a dandruff—”

“I didn’t say that, and—hey you—stop challenging me willya. You know I’m right.”

“He’s never wrong—”

“Shurrup you!”

“Listen up guys. We are getting there. Into the queue and shuffle on down.”

They close up and drop their voices to murmurs, Casey going over the agreed drill. Nearer the foyer the strains of recorded Cliff song are heard: Gotta get meself a walking talking living doll..

Paddy the driver says, “Whichever one of ya gets back to the van first.. tellem to wait while you cross to the pub for yer chauffeur. I’ll come out and drive yers ta wherever.. ya going. What was that Casey?”

“Nearest hotel for me,” said he, “so make inquiries at the pub and sort one out for us.”

“Sort it yersell,” needled Riley, “I don’t think I’ll need dancing frum the way she’s looking at me in me ten bob suit—”

“Ten bob!—that sod charged me a quid! Mind you with these lapels all starched up and rearing to go ferran insiders only show—you haven’t gotta chance Riley boy. I’ll be first back, Paddy, count on it..

CUT TO… [ ten minutes later and we see Riley coming out of the Palais with the gal. He crosses to the outside and flips up her umbrella as they hurry back the way they came… ]

CUT TO… [ an hour later. Dark, raining on the road out from the verandah, vehicles splashing by. Casey leads the blonde out, pausing at the rain.. CU his face.. dawning realisation that he may not indeed be the first back to the van and in this rain.. he/they could get a deep soaking… ]


I’d no idea this caper would write this long.. so it’s a case of come back tomorrow night and try again for the hilarity you would never have guessed possible in a month of Sundays in installment 3 in Never On Saturday..



Classical economists built debt into their economic models. Modern economists do not. What do you get? Answer: you get big ambitions. Who says? Mike Hudson was Chase Manhattan’s balance of payments analyst for SA. Knew first hand the big ambition of BoP surpluses in Brazil, Argentina, Chile, being used up servicing US bank loans. Ambition that never worked out. As local banks financed local realty big time. Familiar..? Borrow to repay loans..? Run-on to Recession.. More familiar..? Knowing your problem is half the battle: solving it something else.


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