Contains some explicit language!


“I fucking hate chopsticks! He bellowed. The he being Frank and the chopsticks being the tune, if you can call it that, emanating from an open window above us as we made our way up from Sheffield train station. “I mean how is playing chopsticks supposed to make you wanna play the piano? Fucking shit the piano. Why can't parents make you take guitar lessons?”

Have to say I made him right but seeing as I'd just met him I wasn't sure what to make of his loathing of the two fingered classic except for the fact that whoever was playing it sounded like they had only one finger and an arthritic one at that. Frank was George's mate and me and George shared a flat along with Finbar but he was busy stirring soup so didn't come to the station although he said he might come later if the soup was sorted. You see, Finbar liked soup!

“So you're Jack?”

Frank said to me in a very low voice. In fact so low I could hardly hear him and it was in stark contrast to how he conveyed his unlove for chopsticks.

“Yeah, Jack as in Jack not Jack as in John” I replied

“You alright then Jack as in Jack?” he went on but as I could hardly hear him and was separated from him by George who walked in bewteen us I just nodded to whatever else he said as we made our way up what seemed like a one in two on the lookout for the nearest pub. Sheffield can be really freezing in the winter and I was up for going into the first place we came across and was more than happy when George said “how about a swift half in that place?” pointing to a bar across the road called Donkey.

“Donkey!” said Frank.

“I mean whose idea was that? Can't you just see it? A group of blokes sitting round a table late at night shouting out suggestions none of which takes anyone's fancy and then one says Donkey! By now they´ve been at it for hours and are about to give up so they say yeah that'll do. Yeah, I'll have a bit of Donkey” he said trying to hold in his laughter.

I looked up at the sign thinking it must have broken and was once called the Donkey and Carrot or something but no sign of a carrot or anything else just Donkey.

Inside it was dead basic but looked like it'd been transported from Spain lock, stock and barrel as it had what looked like ham hanging from the ceiling, was knee deep in paper serviettes scattered all over the floor and the sound of the birdie song coming out of a fruit machine in the corner which was being kept company by what looked like an 80 year old alcoholic woman who'd seen better days.

Before I got through the door Frank was already at the bar ordering drinks.

Tall with dark curly hair and well built enough to make you think he could handle himself and you just knew he was a friend of George as they were both dressed in neat 60s style suites with shirt and tie and big chrombie style overcoats. Not exactly your normal Sheffield attire.

Frank passed us our drinks holding two glasses in his large hand but seemed to be having some trouble making the barman who had one of those eyes like he's looking at someone or something behind you understand what he wanted.

“Who thought of the name Donkey then?” I said.

“Everyone asks that” said the barman looking like he was talking to the old dear playing the fruit machine behind us. “I wanted to call it Jackass but my mother who put the money up for the bar thought it was too rude so made us change it to Donkey.”

“I can see that” replied George rolling his eyes as he turned away with his drink

“But what's a Jackass got to do with a Spanish theme bar then?” asked Frank.

“Well me and my mates had a great holiday in Spain a few years back and we'd go to this bar called Jackass every night. It was bloody great so I wanted to create the same atmosphere” replied the barman and as he was talking one of his eyes seemed to do a loop de loop.

“Well, you've certainly done a good job” I said trying not to laugh.

Frank wanted a snakebite but the barman explained that he couldn't serve them as “people go mad on those.”

Frank seemed to think for a minute and then asked for a bottle of Pils, a bottle of K cider and an empty pint glass and the barman duly put the bottles on the bar along with the empty pint glass which Frank picked up and poured in the cider and lager.

“What´s that then?” I asked the barman.

“A bottle of cider, a bottle of lager and a pint glass.”

Fair enough I thought and as I turned I saw Frank had almost finished his drink and as he took his last gulp he said “this gets you to Gooney faster than the Shanghai Maglev on laxatives” and then laughed his head off and in a second we were all doubled up with tears streaming down our cheeks. Wasn´t so much the quality of the joke as I didn't even know what the Shanghai Maglev was at the time but more that he had one of those infectious laughs that kill you and as he talked he beamed a smile that seemed to go beyond his ears like a slice of melon without the cinnamon and the glint he had in his eye would have made the devil proud.

Wicked but alluring at the same time and as we drank he seemed to be eyeing me from top to bottom like one of those machines which read bar codes in the supermarket only in my case scanning for any signs of personality.

I hoped I didn't disappoint him.

He was on his second before I could finish my first and even though I´d only known him all of fifteen minutes I was starting to take a shine to him. I asked him how he knew George and he told me they'd met through a mutual friend in a pub in London.

They were both from London but George had been studying with me in Sheffield for the last few years whilst in the meantime Frank told us his parents had bought a hotel in Brighton on the South Coast and that he'd been living with them but was going mad and looking to move back to London.

“Absolute murders. Full of old couples where the women have strange blue hair designed like an ice-cream cone who spend hours drinking gin and tonic and talking about Margaret Thatcher and Gibraltar.”

Turns out he'd been to university but left after a fortnight coz “I hate fucking students. They're all wankers!” and had since been running the door in a few clubs for bunce but wasn't sure what he should do next. We never got to discuss career moves as Finbar walked in cleaning his glasses the way he always did when the cold would mist them up.

“Ya alright?” he said stepping on the dog end of his cigarette. Frank said hello and offered him a snakebite as a way of getting him to where we were in the least time possible and even though Finbar was more of a wallop man he was always in for a penny so downed it and ordered another.

By now the booze was flowing freely and we were on a roll, laughing our legs off and taking the piss to the accompaniment of the birdie song. Every now and then I´d glance over to the old dear pouring coins into the fruit machine and it started to fascinate me how her expression never changed.

Like Droopy with skin like leather that seemed to be dropping from her face like a candle melting, smattered with badly applied makeup and I don't think she was even bothered if she won or not coz she didn't even nudge when she had the chance.

As I looked back from the fruit machine there was another round waiting on the bar and I started to think I'd better pace myself or otherwise I'd be over before we even got to the club.

No one had mentioned going to a club but then no one had to. Once you get the flavour you know you ain't gonna stop until there's nowhere open so we finished our drinks and made our way towards the door.

As we did so I couldn't resist a last glance at the fruit machine and just as I felt the cold air on my face as Finbar opened the door in front of me the sound of the jackpot bells started going off accompanied by flashing lights and the sound of coins cascading down and jangling as they hit the floor.

Everyone in the bar was excited except for the old dear.

The barman raced around from behind the bar to pick up the scattered coins but she just stood there and kept on feeding the machine all the time her eyes dolefully focused on god knows what.

I wondered what lay behind those eyes but was interrupted by George asking me if I fancied going to Hooshang's.

I answered him with my normal “do bears shit in the woods George?” and off we went.