The Night Stigs Pub Got Dezza’d

I ken this guy right, his names Dezza, he drinks in ma local. He’s a sound enough guy, one o they guys who tends tae go unnoticed places, he’ll be there no really contributing, jist laughing at the patter. Anyway, me and ma mates were all stood aboot yin Friday night having a pint and watching the Man U game on the muckle pub TV.

Dezza was hanging about wi us watching it tae, he nudges me and mouths “watch this” nodding at the telly. A kind o looked at him, like “didnae even Ken ye were here Dezza” and look back at the fitba. He nudges me again and says “WATCH”. Wi ma attention on him, he looks up at the TV and does this big exaggerated blink at it, kinda like he’s tryin tae stick the nut on it. Right as he does it, the TV gans off.

Big Stig behind the bar starts going fuckin mental. Big Stig o the Dump – he got his name from his uncanny ability tae block a toilet – he’s no having any of this. He’s a big Man U fan and he cannae even stand if some cunt speaks too loud when they’re playing.

One time we watched Big Stig take a bottle o Becks tae some poor Yank cunt that walked in just as Liverpool scored against United, shouting aboot wanting tae see the “Liverpool versus Manchestershire” game. He wudnae have seen much ever again efter Stig was done wi um.

Well, Big Stig starts shouting and balling at awbdae asking whae pit the telly off. I look at Dezza and he’s standing there looking aw smug wi himsel, shoogling his heid and smiling at ees. “Nae cunt is it?” says Stig. “Wankers” he spits tae naebdae in particular and pits the fitba back oan.

“Absolutely Nae way that was you” a Whisper tae Dezza making sure nae cunt heard us. If they did, Stig would be ower tae take aes revenge on whae ever denied him 5 crucial minutes o Man U v Norwich. “sure was big man” he says tae me, smiling that same smug smile. “a can dae it tae anyhin” he says. “fuck off ye jackanory” I says and turn ma attention back tae that flashy cunt Pogba aboot tae rifle a row z special intae oblivion. Dezza sniggers away tae himsel and mutters somethin aboot showing me a jackanory. A ignore um, a’ve spoke tae him more in this last ten minutes then a ever have and a’ve worked oot how that is now, he’s a fuckin looney toon.

A hink nothing else o it until half time and we aw turn roond and have a wee seat whilst Gary Neville and that scouse slaver talk pish aboot the game. Big Stig takes the opportunity tae dae a bit stocktake whilst the fitba’s at a 15 minute standstill. He’s up on a wee wooden ladder, restocking aw his spirits above the bar when Dezza emerges frae the toilets. He looks across the bar at ees and winks. A shake ma heid at him like “whit?” and he laughs. He pulls his heid back again like he’s gontae stuck the heid on somebdae again and blinks at Stig. Pare bastard Stig, the ladders disappear oot fae underneath um and he slams face doon ontae the flair. The pub is deid silent wi awbdae trying to work oot what happened, Deid silent that is except for this maniac Dezza laughing his heid off. Hes hauding his stomach and pure killing imsel laughing.

Stig pulls himsel up and politely enquires who inside the pub found hilarity at his expense. Well, it was suhin like that anyway. This cunt Dezza is still stood there laughing and pointing at Stig. Through a bloody mooth and nose that now resides half way across his pus, Stig screams at Dezza and limps tae the wee bar door and, like a wounded animal, makes his way ower towards um.

“see!” shouts Dezza ower at me and my mates “am no a jackanory!”

Just as Stig makes his way tae try get his hands on Dezza, the cunt turns back tae him and blinks at him. Aw we can see is Stigs heid and top half dissappear behind the bar but the slap o skin on sticky fake wud floor is unmistakable. “whit the fuckth goan oan” says ma mate Thuckit. That’s no really his name by the way, he’s got a lisp and we ayeways take the piss oot him for it, yin night he’d had enough and tell us aw tae “thuckit” and wi that a beauty o a nickname was born. Dezza turns and blinks ower at Thuckit, poor cunts lifted off his feet and gauns crashing through the windae, lands oot on the main road in front o the pub. He’s just lay there sparko’d.

Next hing a ken my other mate, Zippy, so called cos his step dad Geoffrey was ayeways a bit fuckin weird when oo were kids, grabs a bottle o vinegar sat oan the table next tae aw the condiments and starts dousing Dezza in it. Well, was that no jist the stupitest thing onny cunt could have done? Dezza, unable tae see, starts blinkin his eyes aw ower the place. Folk are fleeing aboot the pub like a fuckin Jackie Chan movie. Folk crashing intae the bar, intae walls, through windaes. The place is destroyed. I manage tae hide masel behind the bar and wait oot the carnage. As the last poor cunt gauns heid first intae the TV, I pull masel up and take a look ower the bar.

Dezza is stood there smiling at ees wi aw this carnage roond aboot um. “telt e am no a jackanory eh?” he says. I can only mutter a half arsed reply to agree wi um. “aye, that’s eh, that’s quite the talent Dezza” a say tae him trying no tae anger um.

Just then he starts tae crinkle ees nose like a mad Rabbit. A ask what’s wrong wi um and he starts moaning aboot allergies. He’s allergic tae cats e says. Now he’s rubbing ees eyes and scratching his nose, moaning like fuck. A look up at the top o the bar and Stigs cat, Goldenbaws, is slowly prowling along it above us. “aw for fucks sake” a mutter tae masel as a see Dezza’s hands oot, poised tae clasp at his vacant pus as he prepares for a muckle sneeze.

An Everyday Scottish Villain

Before A tell ye my story, there’s somin ye should know. A didnae ask for this. A didnae ayways want tae be like this. A didnae create some mad serum in a lab to give ees super strength or build a mental technological suit to help ees fight crime. Christ, A barely even looked after myself. A wee 5km run there, a game of 5’s wi ma pals if they were short o’ bodies there. Maybe a’d half-arsed try tae diet if I noticed the auld capital D graun in the mirror but that was it.

And listen, am no writing this tae ask for yer apologies, for ye tae turn up at my door an’ say “it’s awright mate, aw is forgiven”. Am dain it cos A wantae be left alone. Aye A ken how that sounds but it’s true, A wantae be able to sit aboot in ma kegs playing FIFA or just gaun oot wi a bird to the cinema withoot some arsehole interrupting the film tae tell ees am their hero, or worse, expecting ees tae save their fucking granny fi dying eh cancer. So, here gauns.

First time A ever flew was the night A tried tae top myself. A was absolutely fucked, A’d been on ma ain aw day listening to depressing as fuck music, drinking aw the bevvy in the hoose until A’d drunk it dry. By the end ae it, A’d decided A’d had enough.

So, there a was, stood in the pishing rain, greeting ma face off, pish staining the front o’ ma joggies and shite running doon the back of ma leg. What a fucking pathetic excuse for a human being. A felt sorry for the poor cunt that had tae wade oot for what was left o’ ees the next day or even worse scrape ma brains up fae the side ae the water. Sorry mate, A thought, shouldae stuck in wi yer exams though. What a fucking weird thought that was eh? My last ever thought and am critiquing some poor bastard coonsel workers life choices.

A looked doon intae the dark unknown and stepped off the edge. It’s true what they say mind, as soon as e dae it, ye regret it. A’d have geen anythin tae have reversed that decision. Lucky for me A never hit the concrete wall ae water 50 feet beneath ees then eh? aye lucky boy, that’s me right enough.

A opened ma eyes and looked oot at the darkness. A could see fuck all, a wondered if a’d somehow woken up in a fuckin box. That’d have been the perfect fucking end for a fuck-up like me, couldnae even dae that right, A thought, a’ve ended up waking up in my fuckin coffin destined tae fuckin rot tae pieces. As it turned oot, A could tell that A was getting soaked tae ma skin, so A kent A was still ootside. A felt the pulsing waves beneath ees tickle ma feet through the cauld ae ma trainers. A looked doon and if a hadnae shite ma’self awready, A’d have done it right there and then. A was stood, naw that’s no right, I was hovering half a metre above the waves. Then, just as easy as it is tae get oot yer wankin chariot in the morning and shuffle through for a pish, A took off toward the edge o the water, landing on the safe, solid concrete. As A hink aboot it now it sounds ridiculous. A wouldnae believe it if some cunt started slaverin oan about how they were takin their dug for a walk and suddenly they realised they could shoot lasers oot their eyes.

Fae there A developed mare hings. A could lift anyhin A wanted. A could run fast as fuck. And aye a could shoot lasers oot ma eyes. Ma body started lookin like one o them erseholes on the front o Men’s Health magazine. Ripped as fuck. Like Hulk Hogan on even mair steroids than he was on when a was a bairn. Even if A ate 7 chippies a week I was still ripped tae fuck. Listen, superpowers or no, A wisnae planning on ditching ma king rib suppers fae Sergio’s.

Efter realising A was the only person on Earth wi superpowers I did what maste folk would dae. A got fuckin steamin and sterted textin aw ma auld birds selfies eh ma 6 pack and muckle biceps. A got a class yin o me shooting lasers across ma kitchen, burnt right through the front o ma fridge door tae. Course the replies were pretty much aw the same. “Aye gid yin dickhead” came the first. “Nice special effects app, whit yin is it?” came another. The best one though “Haha, there’s mare chance o me graun a muckle cock than there is o you being ripped like that”. Aye, cheers Big Courtney.

The final hing A realised A could dae was heal hings though. I say hings cos A only realised it when A was oot running fast as fuck and belted straight intae this wee dug. A went right through the wee bastard, blood and guts awwhere. A went ower and picked up his wee heid, greeting an apologising like it’d make the blindest bit difference. Except, it fuckin did! The next hing a knew the wee bastard was licking ma face and kicking his wee back legs intae my stomach.

After the dug A decided tae dae a wee experiment. A waited until the middle o the night and ran doon tae the cemetery. A took a wee wander roond in the pitch black, shining ma laser eyes tae illuminate the grave stanes until A came across a tiny wee yin. Some poor wee laddie that had deed at 8 yer auld. A’d love tae tell e A stood there debating the moral consequences ae what a was aboot tae dae but to be honest a couldnae have started shovelling the dirt up fast enough. Quite literally. A had the wee coffin up in nae time wae ma mental strength and fast as fuck airms. A ripped the top off and grabbed the poor wee laddie in ma airms. He can only have been deed weeks or months cos he wasnae rotten or that but he was grey as fuck and he was definitely fuckin stinkin. His dusty wee eyes flickered open and he started breathin fast as fuck, shiting umself. “It’s awright wee man” A says tae um “A’m healing e.” Poor wee bastard almost passed oot straight away, thankfully eh managed tae croak oot where eh lived before he slumped back intae ma airms. A flew um hame and left um in his wee bed, still aw made up.

If yer reading this e probably ken much o the rest. The parents woke up, shite themselves then sterted posting photaes eh the wee fellae on social media. Cos nothing’s every really happened unless e post it online eh? Fuds. What seemed like the whole world, had set up camp ootside this families hoose in Bathgate. Fae aw kinds ae media, tae cults dedicated tae the wee fellae, tae religious freaks thinking this wee boy was the second coming o whae-ever. The family were making an absolute mint off it. And fair play tae wee Andy he never said what happened tae him. Maybe ae couldnae mind but A suspected he wanted tae keep me his ain wee secret.

A gave it a few weeks before A eventually came forward and contacted the BBC tae tell them what a’d done. They immediately banned ees fae contacting their social media accounts and somehow managed tae cut off ma phone line and broadband efter contacting them that way. A wouldnae have believed ees either of course. They left ees nae choice but tae make a wee surprise appearance on the 6 o’clock News. A rushed past security, flew ontae the screen and picked up the tidy wee lassie dain the weather. She was lovin it, nae doubt about it. Efter A stopped the bullets fae the security and they stuck the cameras back oan, a was able tae tell ma whole story. A telt yees aw aboot ma superpowers and how A found oot aboot them. It was class. I was living the high life. Getting sent aw this designer stuff tae wear and getting DM’s fae aw the top models.

For aboot a week, that is.

Then it started. Locally to begin wi. Folk fi ma auld school knocking doon ma door asking me to heal their maws arthritis or take a look at their da’s prostate. They didnae even have the decency tae try and get on ma gid side either. No even “awright mate, mind that time a knocked e oot behind the bike sheds cos e looked at ma bird in fourth year”. Naw. It was mare like “Haw you, heal ma maw.” “Hoy, dae what ye did for that wee laddie tae ma Uncle’s deed budgie”. A ended up just flying away up tae the sky and thrawn stanes at them. A obviously didnae mean to kill that cunt wi that stane, a forgot ma ain strength. And a flew doon and healed him onyway, a never understood what the big deal was.

Soon efter the Government were doon ma throat, getting me tae dae wee missions for them. “it’s yer duty son, for Queen and Country” they said tae me. Flying intae war zones and lasering fuck oot ae these mad Barbarians and jihadis. I soon realised that it was up tae me tae make that decision though. This isnae Gotham City. There isnae the good guys and the bad guys. And there’s nowt tae say that the Government are the gid guys. In fact there’s alot o evidence tae suggest otherwise. Why should a knock off wee Kimmy Jong just cos some posh toff cunt tells ees tae? How div a ken he’s no sound? He hings aboot wi Big Dennis Rodman so I reckon he must be awright like.

That’s why a did what a did. A realise now that it was a bit extreme but if you were a miserable wee shite that wanted tae top yersel then ye turned intae Superman mixed wi the Hulk, ye might gaun a wee bit power hungry tae. A ken A shouldnae have done it, but a did. Folk need tae get ower it.

Am sorry for slaughtering aw they MP’s awright? Is that what ye want tae hear? Am sorry. A was steaming again. I flew doon tae speak tae them at Westminster, they started freakin oot and condescending ees and a lost it. The lasers came oot, heids started rollin and my thirst fur blood turned ees a wee bit mad. These things happen. Well they dinnae anymare obviously cos av calmed doon a bit. There’s nae point sending the airmy, there’s nae point the Yanks trying tae fuckin nuke ees again cos none o it works. So please just leave ees alane. If ye want tae say awright or gees a wee high five when e see ees that’s fine, a’ll try no tae break yer wrist like a did that wee laddie in Washington. A was still learning then.

Am no a Villain just cos a dinnae want tae heal the world like Michael fuckin Jackson. Am just a normal guy. So, please, next time ye see me dinnae ask ees tae bring yer wee guinea pig back fae the deed, dinnae ask ees tae assassinate that fanny in the White Hoose and for the luv o fuck dinnae ask ees for a selfie, am fed up payin oot for new phones. Stupit fuckin laser eyes.

Oh aye, and for aw the folk asking online: no am no single, aye A am gaun oot wi Margaret Boaby, Hamilton’s very ane Margot Robbie Impersonator and naw, nae amount o superpowers stop e fae blowing yer load prematurely.

A Divine Vacation


He looked down at his phone to see the last name he wanted to see calling him, this could only be bad news. His vacation had been just what he needed after such a tumultuous time at work and the last thing he wanted to see flash up on his phone was “Boss” calling.

His doctor had suggested he take the time off after a smattering of problematic conversations in which he’d sobbed his way through his work issues. His boss had grumbled but was ultimately content for him to take the time off with the proviso that he could guarantee his staff could take on his workload. He had entrusted his two best members of staff with the reins and departed with a spring in his step. He hadn’t even thought about work once as he lay back with his feet up. After four decades of what felt like constant graft, he could finally relax safe in the knowledge that things were being taken care of.

He took a deep breath, braced himself and swiped to answer. “Hi Jay!” he cheered “how’s things?” “How’s things?!” spat Jay down the phone incredulously in a tone which suggested that things weren’t entirely great. Someone clearly needed their own vacation he thought. “How’s fucking things?! Do you have any idea how long you’ve been on vacation for?” He thought about this for a second, he wasn’t entirely sure if it was a rhetorical question. “To be honest, times gotten away from me Jay, I’ve been focussing on me for a change and trying to just take the time to relax, how, uh, how long has it been?” he knew he was expected to ask but given the tone of the conversation, he really didn’t want to know the answer. “Times gotten away from you” muttered Jay under his breath. “It’s been six fucking decades mate” Jay said bluntly. A pregnant pause hung between them. “Did you hear me?!” Jay shouted “six fucking decades. And those two buffoon’s you left in charge have made an absolute shit show of things. My Dad is furious, man. Things are going to shit. Get it together, get back here and meet me at 10am tomorrow. Sharp.” Jay went to hang up then jumped back on “Oh and Peace, don’t bother speaking to those two fools you left in charge before tomorrow, I think it best if you just come in blind, it’s going to be a bit of a shock to the system. Bring coffee.” He hung up without any pleasantries.

Peace looked down at the phone, shook his head and looked in the mirror. Six decades, he thought. What could have possibly happened? When he left things had looked good. War had been quiet, knocked back down to the small time criminal she’d been in the very early 1900’s. Yes, she’d been responsible for the 2 biggest events in human history to date but Peace had taken her to task and beaten her to a bloody pulp, sent her off with her tail between her legs. The people had even come up with a little sign for Peace’s name, they were all throwing it about, it was like the new way of saying ‘goodbye’. His name was literally on everyone’s lips. He’d felt he’d left things on a high. Bowed out at a perfect time to hand the reins off to someone else. ‘Buffoons’ Jay had called them. He’d had full confidence in Tranquility and Serenity to keep things ticking over, yes they were young but they’d come up under him and he’d thought they were ready to lead.

He began packing his things, trying to maintain positive thoughts, he wasn’t ready to throw away all this good work just because of a bad phonecall. Tomorrow was another day.

He hadn’t slept well. He’d been tempted to phone Tranquility or Serenity during the night but had thought better of it. The way Jay had spoken to him was enough to give him the feeling that today wasn’t going to be a good today and, even worse, he’d mentioned his Dad being furious, probably best to play things straight. Not the greatest idea to piss off for six decades then go against the boss’ wishes when you get summoned back to a supposed ‘shit show’.

He checked his watch, 9:59am. At least he wasn’t late he thought. He punched the ‘up’ button at the lift and jumped in, making sure not to spill the two coffees he was carrying. He pressed the illuminated ‘T’ for top floor and slowly paced the lift until it chimed. The doors opened presenting a beautifully lit corridor, filled with bright, oddly shaped lamps. At the end of the corridor just in front of a large wooden door stood the silhouette of his boss. “Come on then” said Jay as he opened the large wooden door to his office and beckoned Peace in.

“Chill man, it’s OK” said Jay as Peace bent to lay the two coffees down on the large faux-mahogany desk in front of him. He had noticed the numerous beads of sweat dripping down onto the glass surface. “I realise how I sounded on the phone last night and I apologise for that. I’d just had my ass chewed out by my Father and passed that onto you. Yes, things are in the shitter, but I’m hopeful we can sort it out today. Do I have your forgiveness?” Peace wiped his forehead, picked up Jay’s lofty name tag reading ‘Jesus H Christ, 2nd in Command’ which he had knocked over in his haste to put down the hot coffees and pursed his lips to blow out a long deep breath. “Of course” he said, smiling at his boss and longtime friend.

They had sat for an hour or so sipping their coffees exchanging small talk and catching up on the last 60 or so years before Jay had stood up and started throwing down files across his desk like a Vegas blackjack dealer. It never seemed to end. He couldn’t believe his eyes. That son of a bitch Evil, who had been small time for years, had unleashed this guy Charles Manson just after he’d left, ambushing Tranquility and Serenity. Evil and Terrorism had put their heads together and birthed the 9/11 attacks, he could imagine that puppet master Death kicking back in his office chair revelling in the chaos.

War had reared her ugly head again, years after he’d left. She’d been busy – Vietnam, Afghanistan, Iraq, The Falklands, Bosnia, Kosovo, Syria. She’d been everywhere it seemed. He winced each time he apprehensively opened another file. Regret filled him like an air tight blow up mattress. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. How could he have been so selfish?! How could he have disappeared for so long with no inkling that this was going on? Jay had talked him down, reassured him that he’d left things in a fantastic state of affairs after decades of battling with that jezebel War.

Jay bent over the desk and dramatically slid all the files off the desk. The discarded paperwork made a dull thud as they dropped off the edge of the table and flopped across the shiny wooden floorboards. “OK, I know that’s alot to take in but bear with me” said Jay. “I’m not telling you all this to bum you out and to make you feel guilty. No, all of that sets the foundations for what I’m about to now show you. I need to introduce you to a few of the newer guys on the scene. These are the guys I want you to concentrate on, just like you did War all those years ago.” Again, Jay began dealing out the files, throwing out names as the files hit the desk. “Bigotry, Narcissism, Climate, Ignorance, Disease, AI” Peace looked them over, taking in the names Jay was reeling off. “I suppose I’m not surprised about Disease, he’s always been an asshole. But Climate? Why’d she switch sides?” he asked. Jay scoffed “Yep, you’ll probably need more coffee for her, that’s a big file.” He had spent the rest of the day reading about social media, fake news, humans’ love affair with technology, the abuse of antibiotics and issues of race and religion which he thought he’d eradicated when he defeated War decades earlier. His head pounded and the pit of his stomach ached with regret.

It was now late and much to his surprise 12 hours had passed since he had walked into Jay’s office. He had his work cut out. He knew that. But he had a good team of people who he would link back up with tomorrow. For the first time that day he booted up his laptop and opened his emails. He drummed his fingers as the 4.25 million unread emails filled up the screen before him. He clicked on ‘compose’ and began scrolling through his address list, he clicked on his most trusted of colleagues that he knew he would now need with him to fight this forthcoming battle. He just hoped they were still up for it. He plopped his fingers onto the keyboard and began to write:

To: Unity; Inclusiveness; Love; Empathy; Hope; Intelligence

CC: Serenity; Tranquility

Dear Friends,

I know it has been many years since you have heard from me and I know that you are now facing battles well beyond what you faced when I was last in office. Today I have received a whistle stop tour of the last 60 or so years from Jay. I understand that his Father is mightily concerned. He believes he is losing the battle with the Red Prince. Having read Jay’s files today, I understand why.

I am confident, however, that with you by my side we can slow the plans of that nefarious bastard Death. We know we’ll never stop him, but we cannot allow him to achieve his ultimate goal. If he does, we will no longer have a purpose. His master will have won. We cannot allow that to happen.

If you are with me, meet me tomorrow at the usual place. I have a plan. We can do this.

Your trusting friend,