tales of the old country.

when I was a kid, I would drink in a pub around the corner from my home grandly named the admiralty. Back then, probably still now, pubs in wales were almost like community centers, Everybody went to the pub, most cases at least two or three times a week, and people like me, all night, every night, and there was nothing unnusual about that, quite the opposite in fact.For example, I can remember being warned in hushed tones to be carefull what I say or do around this one feller Colin because he didn't drink alchohol AT ALL! If he had been diabetic or muslim, that would have been fine, but because he CHOSE not to drink, he was obviously not to be trusted. He still came to the pub twice a week to play snooker and be whispered about though, you see, in some cases, going to the pub almost seemed like a duty to be endured, like some people go to church, people still do it though. Mr Evans was another one of those cases, he must have been about eighty, (though I seem to remember him being about eighty for twenty years or so, so I'm obviously no judge of age). I have no idea why he was called mr Evans, and not by his first name, (I don't even know how that happens to anybody? Nobody ever calls me mr Evans, and if they did, I would say something like, "my father's name is mr Evans" , and then I'd probably correct myself, because nobody calls him mr Evans either! oh I'm giving myself a headache now). For whatever reason, mr Evans was excluded from the usual informalities, and was always referred to by his surname. Every weekday evening mr Evans would sit (alone), next to the door and watch everyone who came in or went out. occasionally, someone would say "ite" (the traditional cardiff greeting),to mr Evans,and he might manage a faint facial acknowledgement of their existence, but that was about it. The bar staff would bring over a pint for mr Evans a couple of times a night, whenever they noticed his glass was empty, he never said "thankyou", and I never saw him pay either. At ten to ten every night mr Evans left without saying goodnight to anyone.
There was a new landlord in the admiralty called wavey Davey, who was desperately trying to alter the pub's well deserved "den of inniquity" image, and attract the p.e. students from the nearby teacher training college, and one of the crowd pulling techniques he employed was rolling out a massive television, on a trolley on a saturday afternoon, to show the football or rugby.This thing was fucking huge, and even mr Evans started comming in on a saturday afternoon. Unfortunately for wavey Davey, he bought the tv and stand off'v my mate Bonita. back in those days, consumer electronics were a lot more expensive than they are today, so a lot of people rented a T.V. on a monthly basis. There was a T.V. rental firm not far from us immaginatively called "T.V. rental" Bonita had gone to T.V. rental, and rented the biggest T.V. they had,and two days later, he sold that T.V. to wavey Davey. That was the problem with Bonita he'd steal ANYTHING, even his own stuff! He came to my house, (I still lived with my parents at the time), and asked if he could borrow my sports-bag, I went and got him the sports-bag, and then I made us both a cup of coffee. after we drank our coffee, he got up to leave, but seemed to strain slightly under the weight of the empty sports-bag? when I took the bag off him and looked inside, it was full of MY STUFF! In all honesty, I thought it was quite funny that he would borrow MY sports-bag, and use it to steal MY stuff! he was very ashamed, and almost broke down in tears as he explained that he couldn't help himself, "I even stole my own T.V. the other day" he whinned. "yeah I heard". After he finished explaining, he swore he was very sorry, and that he knew he had over-stepped the line this time, and after I had displayed all the sympathy I could fake, for someone who had just tried to steal my stuff in my own sports-bag, he got up to leave. I said "you forgot the sports-bag", "naaah I don't need it anymore", he said, and i told him he was a wanker for borrowing my bag off me specifically for the purpose of robbing me. After he left, I set about putting back all the stuff he had tried to steal, and realised he had pinched the bag anyway! The only reason he didn't want to borrow it anymore, was because assuming I wouldn't lend it to him now, he'd already stolen it! despite the fact that I had already said he could borrow it, despite the fact that he had already been caught nicking my stuff once,and despite all his "sincere" appologies! That was typical Bonita though, he was always like that,even when we were toddlers, given half a chance he would steal the milk out of your coffee, and to make matters worse, there was something about him that made it difficult to be angry with him! Later that day, I saw him getting out of a car, (that wasn't his, and was too good for anyone to lend him), and on the passenger seat was MY sports-bag. So I discreetly grabbed it from the empty car as I walked past. when I got home, there were two pre-recorded china crisis cassettes, and a remote control for a television inside it. That night he was in the admiralty talking to wavey Davey about the missing remote,as I approached Bonita was saying that someone had stolen the remote, "who steals a remote Bonita?" demanded wavey Davey, "it was in a....." Bonita wanted to explain that the remote was in a sports-bag, and that the bag had been stolen, but seeing me, thought better of it, "....car, they prob'ly just thought it was a calculator or something". "theives arn't stupid Bonita" said wavey davey. "some of them are". I interupted as rudely as I could.
"where the fuck's my sports-bag Bonita?", I have difficulty faking anger, but it was good enough for Bonita.
"ah Bulldog old mate, there's a bit of a problem with that, you see..."
"I couldn't give a flying fuck about your problems Bonita, I want that sports-bag under my bed, where it belongs,(and where it already was anyway), by tomorrow lunch-time, and don't give me no fuckin'excuses!" As I walked away, I heard wavey Davey tell Bonita that he wasn't going to pay for the T.V. until he had the remote. I did genuinely intend to tell Bonita later that night that it was in fact ME who had nicked the bag from the car, but you know what they say about the best laid plans of mice and men, (do you? most people I ask, say yes, but don't really) . Next morning Bonita shows up at my house bright and early, with a sports-bag which he claimed to be mine, and appologised profusely for the misunderstanding.He acctually tried to convince me, that because I said he could borrow the sports-bag,and he had said he didn't want to, he was a liar, not a thief, which was apparently better! That just annoyed me, so I didn't tell him that I knew it wasn't the original sports-bag, and after he had tried to nick all my stuff the day before, I had no qualms about hanging on to the remote for a couple of days, with the intention of inventing a mate at T.V. rental, who could get me a remote for a tenner if Bonita bought me apint of wife-beater for my efforts. so I graciously accepted the bag and offered to forget the whole incident.

I hate football! I don't know what it's all about. Back then I thought people only used football as an excuse for a good old fashioned punch-up. The p.e. students on the other hand, had a different oppinion, and they were most vociferous in their claim that football should be given parity with rugby in the saturday afternoon viewing stakes. wavey Davey (who was english anyway), agreed to alternate between rugby and football, thus ensuring no-one was happy!
"BLOODY OUTRAGEOUS!" said mr Evans the first time international rugby was sacrificed for football. He looked like he was going to cry! It was also the first time I had ever heard him speak, and untill that point, wasn't even sure he could speak english. (english is a second language in parts of wales, and some old-timers never felt the need to learn it).
What neither mr Evans, wavey Davey, or Bonita knew, was that I had a remote for the T.V. in a sports-bag under my bed.
A fortnight later,there was what appeared to be an important football game on, I don't know who was playing, or even why, but judging by the amount of people watching, it was a biggy! loads of people shouting at the massive T.V. while I sat quietly next to mr Evans, near the door in case an emergency exit became neccessary.
Every few minutes, regardless of the state of play in the football match, I would change the channel discreetly under the table. not being able to see the buttons, It was a bit random, sometimes I'd hit the volume, and sometimes the standby but this helped to distract attention from the fact that someone somewhere was pressing buttons, and Wavey Davey having made a "no-one touches the T.V. except me" rule, and having fenced the thing in, using bar-stools, with broom handles between them, draped with table cloths, had to force his way through the angry mob, to the T.V., every time I put the rugby on, and change back to the football, manually. I was, (I am ashamed to admit), one of the loudest complainers! "come on Dave! can we watch a match or not?, I don't even care which, one or the other" and, "you shouldn't offer a service you can't provide Dave", that kind of thing.
I was very magnaminous when wavey Davey appologised though, I said, "weird thing is Dave, it only seems to happen on ITV, once it gets onto the BBC it seems to be working fine". Wavey Davey concluded that there must be something wrong with the T.V. set, and the natural order of things was restored when he decided to put on the BBC, and see if my observation was correct. Now I'm not a sensitive person, but some of the names those p.e. students called Wavey Davey were diabolical, especially considering it was only a game of football. so after mr Evans and I had watched the rugby, I went and offerd my help (and condolences) to wavey Davey. "you can't blame yourself Dave", I said "If the T.V. is bust, there's nothing YOU can do about it, could happen to anyone".
"today of all days!" he said,"I am going to throttle that Bonita when I get my hands on him, 250 quid I paid for that pile of shit"! I knew he was lying, because I knew he had refused to pay Bonita, or give the T.V. back,until Bonita produced the remote control which was in a sports-bag under my bed, Bonita was hardly likely to take wavey Davey to a small claims court now was he? and he couldn't afford to order a new remote, until he had the money from the T.V.
When opportunity knocks at the door, who doesn't open up and let it in? idiots that's who. "250 quid! for that! I could have got you one that works properly for 300, WITH A REMOTE"!
"you reckon you could get me one by next week?" he asked. "that big?"
"prob'ly, strictly between you and me",I said "I got this mate who works for T.v. rental, he goes round and reposesses all the T.V.s when people don't pay, I'll tell him what you want, and when he reposesses one that big, it'll miraculously "get lost in transit". and then remembering mr Evans, "mind you", I said, "today was officially a football day, so next week we watch rugby again yeah?"
"of course! whatever You say, just get me a decent T.V. for next weekend, I dont need a nother saturday like today" I should have charged him more.
Bonita, was grateful when I warned him about how wavey Davey was planning on separating his head from his shoulders, espescially when I told him how I had been standing up for him all afternoon! "fuck him" he said, "he should give me the money he owes me for the T.V. before he starts insulting me public". "it is a bit cheekey", I agreed, " bought as seen.if he's not happy with the deal, take the thing back off him........I'll give you 200 quid for it. ....today". "nah bollocks" says Bonita, "I already sold it too cheap for 250". "yeah but now it's bust," says I, "I'll have to pay someone to repair it, AND it doesn't even have a remote anymore". "yeah I s'pose" says Bonita, "alright done, you gotta give me a hand to collect it though",he said. "it's too heavy for one person".
"sorry mate, can't help you, I have to go and get your money, and anyway, I don't want to be involved, he's already pissed off with me for taking your side all afternoon, just keep me out of it eh?", and with that I left. At the next phone box, I phoned wavey Davey and told him I had just spoken to the T.V. rental reposessing fella, and I could get him the exact same model, (but working properly and with a remote), on monday.
when Bonita came round later with the T.V. I asked if wavey Davey had given him any nonsense, he told me that wavey Davey didn't even want the t.v. any more! I told him wavey Davey was talking about some guy who works for T.V. rental, who reposesses T.V.s and then loses the paper-work or something.
Teusday morning (deliberately 1 day late to allay suspicion), me and my mate red one (who had been looking for a way to worm his way back into the admiralty after being banned, for collecting money for a wreath for the deceased mrs Leishen, who later decided Florida was too hot and came back to Cardiff), took the T.V round. Wavey Davey told us to put it exactly where the last one was, and said proudly, "look at that! you wouldn't even notice the difference", with a press of the number three button, (which put the T.V. on ITV), I handed him the remote,and I said, "you will now".