Two brothers in their seventies, Vinnie and Oz, share a ‘squeeze’, Vanessa, on holiday in Oludeniz. It’s late morning and they’re in the ‘Lions of St George’ bar where there’s ale on tap and English St George flags hang flaccid amidst cigarette smoke. 

Bracelets jingle on Vinnie’s right wrist as he lifts a pint, whereas the ‘Armstrong Strong’ wristband, the braided friendship bracelets and ersatz Rolex on his left wrist are more sedate. Nourished by booze he’s happily pissed. His head is shaven and he wears gold rings in both ears. A blue and silver St Christopher medallion nestles on his bare chest above cargo shorts bulging with fag packets and Turkish lire. He’s thin as a rake and his skin, taut over his ribs, is fruitcake brown and adorned with a single tattoo: ‘Phil Collins is God’.

Oz, wearing an armless tee shirt, with ‘La vie dans le rouge’ emblazoned on the front, and pulled taught over his potbelly, teeters on Sandpiper wader legs. He has Johnny Rotten dyed white hair and wears skinny black jeans tucked into ornate cowboy boots. He scratches at his umbilicus where a bejewelled ring has recently been inserted; he hopes it’s not going septic. Around his neck he wears several bulky gold chains that clink and clunk as he drunkenly rocks to the pounding beat of Black Sabbath while he swigs red wine.

The music changes to Phil Collins’ ‘You can’t hurry love.’ 

Yes! Oz shouts. The man! Yes!!
A drunken man in his fifties standing next to Oz, shouts, Bloody rubbish! Couldn’t drum his fucking way out of a paper bag with a voice of a castrated goat.
What did you just say? Oz demands.
Phil Collins is shit. Want to make something of it?
Here, Vinnie, Oz shouts, This areshole is saying our Phil is shit.
You want to come outside and say it again, mate? Vinnie enquires as he points at his tattoo.
From a distance Vanessa bellows, Fucking leave it out. All bosoms and tight white jeans, Vanessa elbows her way through the throng until she reaches Vinnie and Oz and explains to the man, Take no notice, darl. They’re pissed as farts.
Who you calling pissed? Oz demands. 
I asked you a question, Vinnie persists. 
Leave him be, Vanessa orders. 
Fuck off! The man replies. 
Right, outside now! Vinnie insists. 
Piss off, you old twat, the man says. 
Oz, Vinnie, stop right now! Vanessa commands. Go outside, sit down and shut it. Off you go! Behave! I’m warnin’ yer any more of this and there’s no Viagra for you today.
They comply. 
There’s good boys. 
Phil Collins booms away. 
They watch. 
Vinnie whispers to Oz, Will she? 
Oh, yes, Oz replies. 
Turning to the now laughing man, she asks, Something to say. 
I’d need more than Viagra to give you one, love. 
The man’s scream of pain soars above Phil Collins’ ‘In the Air tonight’ as Vanessa’s Glasgow Kiss breaks his nose. 
Nessie! Nessie! Vinnie and Oz chant.

I hope you enjoyed this story.  Remember, I publish a new story every Sunday. 
Please feel free to pass them on to others you know who may be interested.
You can read previous stories from “Behind the Plague Door” here >>>More

© Phil Cosker 2021
Phil Cosker has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work. All rights reserved; no part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted by any mean, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise without the prior permission of the author.

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