Poguemahone by Patrick McCabe

Author:Patrick McCabe
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781800181120
Publisher: Biblioasis
Published: 2022-03-11T16:37:36+00:00

As my sister,

however reluctantly,

eventually, in the end, came to realise

with it dawning on the poor little lady

that Troy and all the others

why, all along, they’d been laughing at the

very idea

of someone as clunky & clattery

not to mention, looks-wise, plain as day,

of her having a baby with the Scottish Prince

– of Fudge Fogarty giving birth to his child?

I mean, honestly, really and truly, to

goodness,

what on earth was wrong with the girl?

Hadn’t he allowed her to do the ruaille

buaille with him?

& so surely that was enough

instead of now looking to be having

her own childre as well!

Why, really, Fudge!

you would often hear the others

gossiping

in the kitchen

Tanith especially

but Joanne Kaplan also

the very same as they’d done

on the night they

had helped her to dress for

Atomic Rooster

the gig they were all attending

at The Roundhouse.

Yes, fussing around with

no end of pins and bobbins

chatting away about all the

little babogues

they might have one day themselves

before laughing their heads off

just as soon as they got her out of the room

saying that maybe she might call her little

babogue Baba Cass

– after, of course, Mama Cass,

the fattest singer in the

Western world

chanteuse of The Mamas & The Papas

during those times

already in the process

of fading

far from view.

Yes, like that once-cosy living room

which had so reflected the artistic taste

of Tanith The Duchess

with its great big Chesterfield sofas

upholstered in William Morris fabric

hand-sewn fringed covers, shawls and throws,

Morris wallpaper, art nouveau posters

with vivid colours, wild swirling fonts &

wild imagery,

ceramic pots and beaded lamps

now hopelessly neglected

but with Una still being so hopelessly

in love

that she didn’t even notice

as she took Troy’s hand and they

went off to catch the tube

to see Atomic Rooster

with Vincent Crane and his Hammond

organ swirls

which Troy kept chatting about all

the way to Camden

most likely, I thought, to distract

attention from his ‘lady’

sitting there grinning, shaped

like a sack of potatoes

as she hugged him and hugged him

all the way to the doors of The Roundhouse

with his face still burning in case

anyone might see her

& notice the way she walked

like some old country farmer’s daughter

whinnying hopelessly

at every single stupid joke that he made

clattering along beside him

looking up adoringly

stumbling like a donkey

with its hooves stuck inside a bucket.

& if Una says

that all the time I imagined it

yes, that right from the start

I conjured and fashioned and rendered it all up

any old way I wanted it to happen

for the simple reason that

all along

I had been

jealous of the Scotsman

well, if that’s what she thinks

then, very well, that’s fine

yes, that is absolutely fair enough

because I know she liked him

& as well as that

she isn’t all that well up top

but, you see, I know the truth

& that truth is this –

that if she wanted children

& I know she did

& just how badly

it wasn’t him she was ever going

to get them from

but someone else who truly

and genuinely did care about her

& who is that?

Why, ME – who else?

Because it was I who got her the childre

so it was,

for all the thanks or buíochas

she ever demonstrated.

Only to give me no end of grief

and aggravation.

I had observed them for months

with their so-called mother

coming up from their midden

in South Kilburn

to Queen’s Park

That was where I first

clocked and identified them.

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