CALLASSA : MAD JACK BAILEY PRESENTS. EXTRACT No. III

CALLASSA

MAD JACK BAILEY

Presents No. III

Maria ilva and the Mad Axe Man

It was the day when we goes off to Slate (Wales). Like I says, I already knew where the Mad fuckin Axe Man, crazy bastard if ever there was one, was holed up. I can member bein wheeled through Snowdonia. Pretty place that. All white mountains, if I remember rightly, like a Swedish broad’s arse just there and a waitin. We stops a few times on the way, more than we ought, but Maria ilva the red head from heaven was wiv us, the Italian, she kept on demandin an I loved it. None of us didn’t mind cos she made us look like an oil paintin, sittin gether like we was, side nearly every pub there was on the way there. Geezers givin us plenty of bead. Wonderin where we was all from. The fuckin mobsters from Holy Hamp, we was, the Italian broad wiv the red locks takin our photographs. I takes some of her wiv her arms up in the air, holdin her hair, full of drama like she was. I was really pleased by her on account of her makin us look less the mob and more like sum theatre crew or summink. Course could have been wrong. Always, doin the smile she was, an keepin us all real happy. She had no idea as far as I knows why we was goin, but she was bein summink we wasn’t, you knows like intelligent. While we was in the wheels, she’d be singin in Spag, soft like, to the back of my crane (head) an I’d get this giant, oversize fuckin urge really fuckin difficult to press down for it being embarassin like. I was a fuckin piston goin full tilt for no reason, not yet anyways but there’s more as you can expect. I fought she had a message for me vat she was . . . got yer attention has I? Let’s put it vis ways, she was more than I ever could see in my grey matter.

Right then. Just cos I’ve been asked to slow fings down I’ll tell you what we did in Slate (Wales)…. Absolutely fuckin nuttin. There was absolutely nuttin for us to fuckin do. The place was crocked (full) of fuckin slate houses with these wiry geezers doin this standin at the door, starin at nuttin. I’m generalisin like. Anyway, this Barmouth joint, on the coast it was. Nice beach. We should have taken our trunks and got spragged out (sat) with a deck chair or two. Ha. Ha. Ha. That would’er brought the sun out, the Italian stripped to her loins, fuckin Hell. Oh, fuckin Hell.

(break amid laughter as Jack normalises things)

It was an interestin joint to case cos we couldn’t fink for the life of us how we could do anyfink at all here. Well I had my bead well an truly on red locks an that was all an I tell yer I was fuckin losin the reason we was vere at all. There didn’t seem to be any rippers (shops). Just slate and more slate. Wiry geezers, like I says. Wiry geezers. Slate. Different noise (language). Irritatin as fuck, but I was less fected as the ovvers cos Red Hair was doin the breavin an I was lovin it.

But let me tell yer, there was summink there which I was grateful for part from the red vagina in the fuckin sky (angel?) and I’ll be tellin yer more about what it was soon.

The Axe Psycho Fuck, the ‘psycho cleaver on fingers and cranium (head) if you don’t do as I say, crazy bastard’. He was holed up in this bed and breakfast. I even recognised his fuckin wheels parked on the road. Didn’t he know we’d be comin visitin? I should’ve fought about it more fore bustin in cos this was how I got my jigger (throat) slit. The place I was grateful for was the hospital. Yeah …. Surprise yer, do it? It did me at the time. Slit jigger and all. I was the same colour as Red Locks, unintentional like.

We parks the wheels down the street in case there was beads (eyes) doin the lookin out for us. The buildin had a door at the front and a door at the back. Math-matics. No fire escape. Three storeys. The skimmin bastard was on the top floor and facin the back. I had all this from the boots. Remember? The useless cunt bent Filth Carson.

So we tries to get in like and there’s this door that we couldn’t open. No matter how we tried. The same at the back. We ended up ringin the fuckin front door bell. This old buzzard (female pensioner) answers the door. About a hundred and fifty she was. But she says there was a geezer upstairs who fitted the description we gave her. It was no good askin for him by name. Mr. A. Man. Cos it was unlikely he’d used it. And for all we knows, it was his grandmother we was yappin to. Anyway, we starts leggin it (walking) up the stairs and this really classy broad comes bouncin down. Gorgeous piece, like Marilyn laid waitin and smilin, with a hairstyle to match and mini skirt. She didn’t look like she was local, not from what I’d fuckin seen of the fuckers, so when she starts back up the stairs at full tilt we added two and two together.

The Axe Man havin had a start on us was unfortunate. Remember we was talkin bout pros here and it was obvious he didn’t give a fuckin shit whether we knew where he was or not. We finds out later that he was about to blab everyfink to the Filth. This was a safe house, of sorts. Huh. We’d walked straight into it, a real big fuck mistake.

We knows which door the hairstyle and arse had opened. Now I was fraid the bullets was goin to fly. Likely from the Filth for all I knows. Anyway I kicked open the door, but what I didn’t expect was him, the Mad fuckin Axe Man, comin at me with a blade. Like an idiot I’d been the first one froo and the first one to get it. The only one it turned out. I wasn’t takin no notice on account of bleedin to death. It’s a real strange feelin havin your jigger (throat) punctured by a machete. One second you feel the panic and then it goes dark and a great big tit nipple gets stuck in your trough (mouth)

So I’m rushed to the hospital, lights flashin, sirens. We was in the arms of the Filth who’d come out of the woodwork and arrested us. Well, I was arrested even though I was slit and sendin sauce (blood) all over the place. Only one not arrested was Red Locks, the Italian broad but who’d arrest her? But I wanner talk more about her later on as I teld yer. Yes she was concerned at her fuckin hero (!) getting slit. Apparently she fought I was a sleeper (dead) and started bawlin an all.

Let me just say I was in Barmouth hospital for four weeks fore they kicks me the fuck out. It was intensive care for a week. Only fing I lost was red sauce. I was a lucky geezer. I was gonna keep my voice, which is a useful fing to ave. I couldn’t use it until I was back in the North. After about free weeks, I fink.

Gettin off the rap had been real easy. We had a brief who argued our case. We was visitin a friend and we ad Red Locks wiv us, high class legs an all, vistin from Spaggy (Italy). He’d attacked us with a machete. I mean, it didn’t look too hot for the Axe Man psycho bastard fuck pig as far as the law was concerned, which was also real good for us. Specially not good for him cos summink real bad was gonna happen to the fuck. I’ll get to that in a minute. Just hang on.

So, durin this month of incapacity, like vat word? Huh? I gets into finkin about shit. Remember, I said that the pawn shop gave me the time to fink? Well, this joint wasn’t so much different than that. It was as interestin as a cowpat. But every so often, I gets these visitors who looked more like summink out of the Untouchables. It was funny to sort of see myself, our lot, from a different spective (perspective?). But they brings me this small TV set. There was one in the ward but this was better cos it meant not wavin at the other geezers for changin the fuckin channel.

In the hospital I had to curb my rage. It was churnin like a vagina in flames. Where was the Axe Man fuck twat ugly basard? I wanted to know. He was dead fuckin meat. I was crazy for the bastard‘s life. Crazy. Crazy and crazier by the minute. He’d cut me. No geezer had ever laid one on me and he’d cut me like I was nuttin. Nuttin….Fuckin nuttin. I couldn’t hold it down. I wanted to shout and I couldn’t. This was the time I became more attuned to the idea of dealin out vengeance. Fore, I’d been delegatin that aspect of our operations to the clones. I was gonna do the Axe Man fuck myself, an I did. But the waitin was makin me savage. I had a mincer on order from Slacky Funt, sausage maker no one ever the fuck should eat. The Axe fuck was goin in it slowly an I would be watchin his fuckin eyes while he gets the mincin.

So I gets this TV set. I was gonna throw it down the ward but there was this programme vat kept showin bout Spain during the thirties. I starts watchin this programme on count of it bein on every day. I gets into it big time, even vo vere was no sound. I was seein Spain from a different eyeball. I know …. I know, the thirties aint now, but the point I’m makin is, there was always a lot of space for development. It meant we ad to get fings into gear. Get movin with the Costa operation. I liked the idea of places where there wasn’t so many fuckin tourists shittin, spewing and fuckin up every fink. But there would be eventually, because it was all takin off. I liked Spain. I liked it a lot, from what I could gavver. It helped me, did the TV programme. It helped me come to terms with the fact that I couldn’t mutilate the Mad fuckin Axe Man yet and it helped me relax. I was watchin dancers with castanets in streets that was different than anywhere here. I knows it’s hard to believe, Huh.

It wasn’t goin to be long fore we moved into Spain, like JFK into Marilyn’s hot and sticky slitty pie. We was already pilin up dough there.

Let me tell yer what kept me alive even more than the fuckin TV and made me fink that really I knew fuck all. Yeah, not difficult that one and she’s still here after all that time. But anyways durin when I was on my back, Red Locks the Italian piece (Maria ilva) that was out of the sky comes in the ward. I didn’t expect her that first time on account of her gettin to know the score, why we was there in the first place. Like I says I ad wanted to shield her from fings, some specially. Anyways, yer knows, the wards have this pull round curtain on wheels to keep the brain fuckin dead from comin back to life and start wankin themselves silly. Well it was bout seven I fink and all of a fuckin sudden there she was struttin down the ward. I wiped my beads like I was seein for the first time. Perhaps I fuckin was? Up to my bed. Fuckin Hell. I tell yer she was wearin this dress an high heels, a red hat tilted to one side. Ciao caro Jack (Hello dear Jack). Oh fuck, she was real an I was in the Holy Slit gettin every fink I’d ever dreamed of. She was wearin these red silk gloves and when she took my plate (hand) it felt like I was doin the slidin wiv all my bod into the great vagina in the sky. That’s how it was. I had this uncontrollin hard-on as fore but now much worse or better pendin how yer sees it.

(To a slight pandemonium erupting in the audience Jack’s wife Mary has got up and walked out)

Don’t get me wong (wrong) if I say I liked the taste of her stick (lipstick) and er breavin on my dial cos it booted the Mad fuckin Axe Man straight outter my foughts well an truly. Whose the shag in here askin if I fucked her? Questions later. Of course I fuckin did what you fink I fuckin am. I was fuckin dead an alive at the same time and I tell yer there is sex and there is sex an there is summink else that just fuckin does the trick. Oh fuckin Hell, she was movin the squealy wheels roun my coffin (bed). The nosey cunts could go fuck off they could stay the fuck dead. Then she gives me this look, this fuckin sideways look of hers like it was full of every fuckin fink ever and her dress drops to the deck. Slick red knickers an bra, hat and shoes looked as though they’d always been lying neat on that fuckin chair. What a bod, what a Holy fuckin bulgin bod. Then she takes off the lot an I was suddenly better, I ad never had my jig slit, no I was fuckin superman. She climbs on the bed, elegant like, an I fought she was goiner lay next to me for a discussion bout the wevver but fuckin, fuckin Hell, she sits straight on my face. What ever I fought I was, I fuckin wasn’t. I was summink much better. I was so fuckin hard I thought there was a Zepplin doin the jumpin. “Sapevo tutto di te, e questo è il mio grazie (I knew everything, yes, and here I am to thank you). That voice and her pearls and mounds doin the swingin and did I like it . . . did I? I was glad I was eer and that sounds like fuckin insane but it’s true, I’m tellin yer. Look at Old Bottomley gettin off an thinkin of Red Locks astride my dial, her knees doing the hard pressin on my flaps (ears), her wet slit movin hard gainst my bones (teeth). I was not gettin my wash in the fuckin mornin I was gonna lick my lips for fuckin ever. Maria ilva the red fuckin goddess doin her moanin on top of my face and fuckin squirt me dead, fuckin do it now, squirt me, I didn’t care if she fuckin drowned me. Fuck everyfink. I just wannered to fuck her. She wasn’t ready eever, she had her feet side of my flaps an dealin with the fuckin war balloon (zeppelin) goiner drop fucking bombs upwards. Way too much class for a hoodlum, way too much of the heavenly slice draped in red and she was eer. She was eer……eer. What did it mean……..? The fuck, literally the greatest fuck evvver. Fuck. Fuck….Milva. I got to knows all bout er an real good during those nights. I’ll tell yer…

(Jack is fading off into an important recollection of Maria ilva, so time for a break).

(Cecil Jammons. Esq. Jack’s brief has confided in Jack again and cautioned him regarding his admitting to any crimes and also and especially any incriminating of Maria ilva)

I needed that (double whiskey on the rocks). Do it come over as I was slobbered (overcome?) by a red rition (apparition), me dreamin it like? I mean lying there in my bed, fumin over summink real bad an ugly an suddenly this . . . this, here I goes again. Anyways, I got to know her really well on account of she came to see me every evenin at seven and stayed while nine. It weren’t visitin hours but I slipped the ward sister, Miss Nightingale, a couple of fifties and promised her more when the Untouchables came next. Sign language did it cos I couldn’t talk. She understood what money meant. Crusty old bird she was.

Anyways like I says, here I was every fuckin night in league with the red apparition, fuckin and fuckin and I was gettin younger by the minute. She liked to spend time after that wiv her locks on my chest tellin me all bout her life in Milan. She was a magnitude of achievement even I wasn’t capable of dreamin.

I knew they was listenin, the two rows of fuckin corpses comin back to life on count of hearin us, specially her, but did I care a cunt? I soon gets to know why she picked me, I’m tryin to fink of a different way of sayin that, but somehow she’d got wind of how we takes care of those eer that need it. I know, I know yerz finkin sure she fuckin did. There’s this fund we ave and all. Ask Harry over there. Don’t though cos you aint getting nuttin. She was involved in politics, unions and stuff I knew fuck all bout. I was more interested in what she carried round between her legs and that fuckin red hair and voice that drove me crazy. If yerv ever had a broad whisper songs in Italian in your fuckin lobes yerl know what I am on about. Yerz all quiet sose I guess not. What a bunch.

(Jack has been handed another double whiskey on the rocks)

There was this lubricant, yer knows, real fuckin oily stuff, the geezer cross from me had some for his catheter, incontinent silly bald twat couldn’t keep his piss in. Anyways I sees it when I was walkin past his coffin (bed) and took the tube out of his cupboard later, side of him. Fuck off cunt, I writes on a note an stuck in his dial. I had the slimey to go where everybody should an nevver will. What does yer mean where? Av yer heard this cunt eer (reference to a person seated on the front row)

That same night I was mining her colon, sat on top she was, an we strikes oil more than a few times, hot oil a streamin an bubblin it was, an now we ave shares in BP, tellin yers. Ever wonderded what a voice (singer) from Spaggy (Italy) with long red locks visitin from the Holy Slice does with a colon tickler a groovin hard? I knows what it felt like when she hits the high note. Huh.

(murmers arising from the audience)

What inroad did Red Locks ave on the operation? Ask me another. While I was vere I didn’t fuckin care bout anyfink cos she was the best fuckin fing to walk on this whole ball of shit doin the floatin (the world) and make it a garden. If she wanted in on the Bond she could fuckin ave it. I’m not kiddin. She could’ve strangled me good an proper, her on top an I would av let er. I could have lost it there in that shit hole if it hadn’t been for her Did she want readies, no cos I asked her an if she ad it wouldn’t ave mattered one fuck. Actually an I knows you won’t believe it but she tells me she would help if I needs it. She had my ticker in her mitten good an proper. Maria ilva (Milva). I know, I know, some of yerz are finkin she brought me roses an sat on my face, an after I was water in her mit….Who the fuck wouldn’t be? They woz in a jar I got from Miss. Nightingale, side of my bed (the roses) an her heavenly slice was rubbin an rubbin my features so much they was already into the next fuckin life, so wot the fuck? Okay, she did ask me to go see to summink for her, twice, in Spaggy, (Italy) personal like, an of course I went an I did, but it’s a fuckin snowball (big secret) an will av to stay one. Soz an all that. Got yer finkin as it? What did she want me to do?

(Much nodding in agreement and nurmering in approval by the audience).

(clapping)

Continued of course!

Extract No. IV

Items from Jack’s Album. circa mid-1960s.