John Paul Docherty and the Mucky Mag Episode Three

In the final episode, John Paul and his pals face more problems as their unthought-out plans unravel. 

Transcript

Part Three John Paul Docherty

Parker’s Newsagents stood on the cusp of the posh streets of Newcastle with its tree-lined avenues and comfortable semi-detached post-war houses and the never-ending terraces of back-to-back workers' houses and flats that stretched in endless rows down towards the giant brewery of Scottish and Newcastle Breweries. 

On that spring morning, Michael Parker took a deep lung full of air that was filled with the aroma of fermenting hops and the heady smell of Newcastle Brown Ale brewing and smiled. “A new day, a Saturday, the busiest day of the week. I love a Saturday” He thought to himself 

It was six thirty on a Saturday morning and outside his little shop his faithful three paperboys were already waiting.

“Morning Lads.” His thick black hair was pushed back in a big swirl, held in place by copious quantities of hair lacquer and was so stiff you could scrape your hand if you touched it. Not that Mike “Elvis” Parker would let anyone other than his wife Heather touch his hair, ever. By day he might have been Mike Parker the owner of Parker’s Newsagents but by night he was Fenham Elvis. As well known in the Working Mens Clubs of Newcastle as the man he had spent nearly ten years of his life impersonating on stage. 

“Morning Mr Parker.” the boys replied. At the same time, a van pulled up and disgorged the string-wrapped bundles of newspaper onto the pavement outside the shop.

“Great timing Bobby.” Mr Parker shouted to the delivery driver. “OK, lads” he turned to the trio who were trying to ignore the bundles. “You know what to do. Let’s get a shift on. These Papers won't deliver themselves. “

So it starts every day but today was special. That night he had his first appearance at the Newcastle Labour Club. On a Saturday night there would be three hundred men and women packed into the upstairs concert hall. None of them were there not to see him. He would be the warm-up man before the bingo. That night the headline was the legendary comedian Bobby Thompson. For Fenham Elvis, this was his chance to shine. 

As the paperboys sorted the morning rounds, he entertained them all with Viva Las Vegas and Wooden Heart, the two new numbers he was adding to the show that night. 

The regulars to the shops were often entertained by Mike’s singing and although it annoyed some, for others it was the highlight of their days. 

Before long, the newspapers were sorted and the lads loaded up their bikes and cycled off into a grey misty Newcastle morning. Then came the factory workers off for the Saturday morning half shift, Nurses and Doctors from the nearby hospital weary from a gruelling nightshift, all eager to buy their morning cigarettes and sugary sweets. Mike knew the routine of his shop and he counted off each landmark, knowing it brought him closer to his performance at the Labour Club.

Nine o’clock brought the Grandads with their football pools tickets to hand in and the Ma’s with the little children who were eager to spend their Saturday morning pocket money on liquorice sticks, black bullets and sherbet dabs. A small queue was building up when three thirteen-year-old boys entered the shop. The first one picked up a copy of the Saturday Journal from the newspaper stand and joined the queue, the other two started looking through the comics on the back shelf of the shop. Mr Parker’s seasoned eye had spotted them all. He knew Mrs Robinson's son, the adopted one, but didn’t recognise the other two. He made a mental note to watch them carefully.

Suddenly there was a shout and someone in the queue cried out.”Me Eye, I lost me eye.” Shifty had slipped his glass eye out of its socket and rolled it along the floor. He grabbed the woman in front of him and screamed “Me eye, where’s me eye” The woman looked in horror at Shifty's face, his good eye staring at her and the empty black hole on the other side of his face seemed to draw her in.

Panic began to engulf the queue. Children looked at the teenage cyclops and clutched their Mothers, even the Grandad who had seen far worse in the Great War felt a little uncomfortable. 

Shifty kept repeating “Me eye , I’ve lost me eye.”

Mr Parker was always calm in a crisis, years of standing on stage in Working Mens Clubs had removed the last vestige of fear from him but even he was beginning to get worried. He shouted through to the back parlour. “Heather, can you come through,  please.”

Lifting up the counter hatch he went out front and approached the boy. 

One of the Ma’s pointed to the Newspaper stand and said. “It’s there.” She pointed as if she had seen a mouse or a huge spider. “There.”  She started at the eye and the eye stared back at her. 

Mr Parker bent over and quickly retrieved the offending glass eye. He put his arm around Shifty and said “Don’t worry son everything is OK. Come with me.” 

The two of them passed through the counter. “Heather pet, take this young man through to the back and help him sort out his eye.” he passed her the eye, he added. “Probably could do with a rinse under the tap.”

“He addressed the anxious queue “Crisis averted everyone. Now Mrs Murphy, what can I do for you today.” and with that everything returned to normal. In all the chaos no one had noticed two thirteen-year-old boys slipping out of the shop. 

Moments later Shifty appeared from the side door of the shop, his face restored to its normal spotty and runny-nosed glory clutching a bag of jelly babies. “Want one” he said, offering up to Robbo and John Paul. “Mrs Parker give me them for nowt.”

Later the three amigos sat down again in the shelter at Nuns Moor Park.

“OK, has everyone got their scissors?” Shifty and Robbo both raised their scissors up.

“Yes, Boss.” they both replied.

“Magazines at the ready?”

Robbo lifted his jumper and waved the copy of Penthouse and John Pull did the same.  

“Ok guys, let's get cutting.”

There were few arguments this time. As they had two magazines it was an easy decision which picture to choose as they could now have both. Soon, the two Penthouse magazines were demolished and John Paul started to put them into his haversack.

“What if your Ma finds them, John Paul?”

“Good point Shifty. Let’s divide them up” 

The arguments began again. 

“I want that.”

“You’ve got all the coloured pictures”

“I wanted that one.”

Until John Paul shouted. “Stop” he glared at the other two. “This is business, we are going to make money from this. At least 2 pence for every photo. Let’s make this a competition. After school on Monday we add up what we each have and see who has the most money? Don’t worry about who has what, think of the ice cream, the bowling alley. I know what I’m thinking of.”

“Yes,” Shifty said with a broad grin on his face. “Mary McIntyre’s school cardigan.

John Paul slapped Shifty on the back. “Too right mate, too right.”

Monday morning came as Monday morning always does and in the back lane of John Paul’s house the three budding business tycoons greeted each other.

“Everyone got their photos?” John Paula asked.

“Present and correct,” said Shifty as he stood to attention and saluted his leader.

“resent and correct,” said Robbo

“Great.” John Paul added. The Ma’s didn’t suspect a thing. Let’s get to it.

This would be the first and only time they would go to school on a Monday morning with a spring in their step and joy in their hearts.

In the cloakroom they hung up their haversacks and covered them with their coats. Shifty and Robbo took a handful of photos and went out into the school yard. Within minutes a small crowd had gathered around and before they went into morning prayers all two hundred photos had been sold.

In year six Religious Instruction class there was much giggling and furtive passing of pictures between the boys as Father Rafferty wrote up on the board a selection of the beatitudes he intended to lecture the boys about that morning.

Father Rafferty could sense the excitement in the room and he knew it had nothing to do with the beatitudes.

As he put the final touch to “Blessed are they who hunger and thirst for righteousness,"

for they will be satisfied.” He quickly turned around and saw Neil Doran furtively put something inside his desk. 

“Who can tell me what this means?” He pointed with a ruler to the board.

No one replied. 

“Well” he continued as he moved slowly through the row of desks and as he passed Neil Doran’s desk. He slapped his rules down hard across the desktop. “Mr Doran, stand up and tell the class what that means?” again he pointed to the board. 

Neil Doran stood up, his hands firmly anchored to the desk lid.

“Father, if you are thirsty or hungry Jesus will give you food and that.”

“No boy, it does not mean that. And hands by your side and stand up straight. There is no slouching in my class. There is none of this in my class, Boy.”

Neil pulled his shoulders back and his arms were stifly by his side. “Slouching Father.”

In a flash Father Rafferty had whipped open the desk lid and there he saw it in all its technicolour glory was a bare chested young woman wearing only a bikini bottom and appeared to be about to throw a beach ball. 

“Holy Mary Mother of God.” said Father Rafferty as he snapped the picture up. “Where did you get this?” He quickly realised he was spending too much time looking at the picture and all the other boys in the class were staring at him.

“I found it, Father.” Neil Doran stuttered. His mouth was dry and his stomach was doing somersaults.

“You are coming with me” Father Cassidy’s office now. “You boy, " he pointed at Henrick Wisnesky. “Go to the Prefect's common room and ask for one of them to come here.”

He went up to the blackboard and wrote on it. “Blessed are the clean in heart,

for they will see God.”

“Everyone of you get your exercise books out and write this one hundred times and think about what it means while you do it.If I hear from the Prefect that there was any trouble then, it’s detention for everyone. Understand” 

“Yes Father.” They all said in unison and with that Father Rafferty grabbed Neil’s arm and frog marched him out of the classroom and up to the headmasters office.

As they arrived at the staircase leading to Father Cassiy’s office he could already see a small group of some of the other teachers accompanying a gaggle of young boys.

“Have you got one as well?”said Father Boyle as he showed him an equally revealing picture of a naked female model enjoying a poolside shower. 

“It looks very much like the young lady who is playing with a beach ball in my photograph.” Father Rafferty added.

Father Boyle looked quizzically at Father Rafferty.  “I mean, this boy’s photograph.” Father Rafferty stuttered. Neil Doran had never seen a priest blush before.

Soon, priests and lay teachers were huddled around Father Cassidy's desk, showing him the pictures.

“Father Rafferty. Make a note of each of these boys and their form masters names and when you have done that get back to their classes. “I’ll speak to the head boy and get the Prefects to do a full search of the classrooms and the cloakrooms. Thank you for bringing this to my attention. There will be a full assembly after the morning break. Please let all the other classes know.”

After they had all left, Father Cassidy looked over the photographs and shook his head. “Filth” he thought. “Sinful filth.”

There had been this sort of thing in the past. The occasional Prefect caught with dirty magazines. They had been confiscated and the Prefect disciplined, Indeed he had saved all of the evidence in a drawer in his filing cabinet. He even checked them every now and again to see if they were as sinful as he remembered them but this was on a different level. If this was what had been recovered then there must be more all around the school. 

During the morning break it was all everyone was talking about. Rumour took over and fear stalked the corridors but no one was more afraid than John Paul, Shifty and Robbo.

“What will we do?” said Robbo

“We are done for” said Shifty

“It’s the spoon for sure for me.” but John Paul was also an optimist or indeed deluded depending on your point of view.”No one will say anything, our haversacks are empty, our desks clean. We just need to keep quiet and it’ll all blow over.”

Suddenly the break bell rang and teachers, priests and prefects began heading the boys into the main hall. By now most of the pictures had been discarded during the break, flushed down the toilet or hidden around the sports fields. In a few cases some had even eaten the evidence. 

The hall was now full and Father Cassidy entered the stage from the side door. Everyone stood up. The smell of terrified boys pervaded the room and despite the cold everyone was sweating even those who had even seen any of the pictures were afraid. Justice in St Cuthberts was arbitrary and indiscriminate. Anyone could be dragged into the headmaster's office and beaten regardless of innocence or guilt. 

“Sit down Boys. I have something very serious to talk to you about today. It has been brought to my attention that someone has been distributing photographs. Not just photographs but filthy, dirty sinful photographs. Photographs of young women with, em no em, clothes on. The boy or boys responsible need to own up or if you know who it was, then you need to speak up. I will not allow this in my school” Father Cassidy’s face was bright red, he scanned the hall and every child there it appeared that he was looking deep into their minds and could read their thoughts. Father Cassidy’s thoughts however were based on the images he had seen and no matter how hard he tried he could not get them out of his mind. In fact, the more he mentioned them the stronger the images became. 

As he continued his speech became more confusing, he was now stuttering and despite his inner rage the words would not come out with the fury he wanted. The pupils of St Cuthberts had never seen this version of Father Cassidy before. They looked at each other then back at the figure in black robes that stood behind the lecturn. 

“Breast boys, Breasts Boys on full display.” He suddenly added. He then started to shuffle the notes he had made as he tried to get the images in the photographs out of his mind.

The fear the boys had been feeling before was turning into bemusement and then amusement. Suddenly a disembodied voice somewhere in the hall said mimicking Father Cassidy accent shouted “Breasts Boys” 

Laughter suddenly filled the room. 

“Stop this at once. Quiet” Father Cassidy screamed. He pointed to a boy in the front row “Prefects remove that boy.” two prefects grabbed hold of the young man and began to frog march him out but as they got to the end of the row someone stuck a leg out and one of the prefects stumbled.“ The crowd cheered.

Quiet” Father Cassidy shouted. 

“Boobies,” another disembodied voice cried out. More laughter erupted. 

“Shut up, now.” Father Cassidy was losing the room and he didn’t know how to stop it.

“Big Boobies.” Someone else said

“Quiet, why is it that every time I open my mouth some fool speaks.” There was a moment of complete silence followed by a huge roar of laughter.

Father Rafferty could no longer stand it. He marshalled the teachers and the prefects .” Get these boys back to their classrooms now.” He rushed over to the stage and ushered Father Cassidy out of the side door and into the small anteroom that was usually reserved for visiting speakers. 

Father Cassidy sat down and looked up at his deputy head. “What happened out there? ”

“Let’s drop this,” Father Rafferty said. “It'll blow over in a few days. The ones we caught will get detention and if it happens again we’ll come down hard on them. In the meantime, I think maybe a retreat somewhere that’s nice and quiet may help.”

“Yes”, Father Cassidy said “Nice and quiet”

That evening in the park, the three friends met up once more. 

“Mission accomplished.” John Paul announced to his two comrades but instead of joy all they felt was relief.  

“Do you think we got away with it?” Shifty asked as he turned around to check that no one else was around.

“Yes, easy peasy.” John Paul said in an entirely unconvincing voice.ii

“Let’s give up the mucky mag business.” said Robbo “I don’t know if I could take another day like today.”

“Listen you a lot. We got away with it. The Ma’s don’t know and we have a pocket full of cash. Don’t flash it about, let’s wait a week or two before we go to the bowling alley or the pictures once everything has calmed down.

Outside the Priests' house at St Cuthbert's, Father Rafferty waved goodbye as Father Cassidy was driven away to the Pluscarden Abbey where the Benedictine Monks would help him recover his fractured confidence.

Father Rafferty the acting Head looked over at the School Hall in the distance. “John Paul Docherty” he thought “I know it’s you behind all of this. How, I haven’t worked out yet but I know and I’ll be watching.”