The world of a high street bookie can be a glamorous one with all sorts of high rollers and low life. Aberdeen had only the low life and Jack was the king rat. Jack had lived a very hard life he had the skin of a 70 year old rhino scrubbed with a Brillo pad.
Jack said he now lived with the nuns on Union Grove, they took care of him and always dressed him in a suit and shirt though the tops never matched the bottoms. he would be in the bookies from opening to the last race and would sit in front of the big screen with his free coffee and biscuits shouting "Come on the winner!" whether he had backed the beast or not hoping to cash in on the luck of some other random punter.
One Saturday when I was Manager in the Ashvale William Hill Jack was very animated there was a lot of shouting at the horses and dogs, though he hadn't cashed a bet. After a while a customer complained about a terrible mess in the gents so I sent my assistant "wee Annie" in to investigate. I knew it was bad when another customer informed me that Wee Annie had been so overcome with the scene that she had thrown up!
As I entered the gents there was an inhuman chemical smell and what can only be described as bright ochre Monkey shit everywhere with bright ochre monkey hand prints up the wall! Who or what could have done this and on my shift and how was I going to clean it? From the counter I now noticed that Jack had the same stains all down the back of his suit trousers.
"Jack for the love of God what have you done to the loo, and what on Earth is it?"
"Oh sorry Ross I had a drink of Swan Lighter Fuel and I really shouldn't as I always have a bit of a reaction to it"
Jack then sat back down to watch the rest of the racing.
"Jack Get yourself away home and clean yourself up, you cant sit here with that all down you"
"Can I no just watch the next race Ross"
"No you can't Jack"
later that day Jack returned all washed, shaved smelling of roses.
Dressed in his pyjamas