I can’t get sidelined with too much detail, a lot of which was above my understanding, and I am sure whatever I do know is only the tip of the iceberg. So I will relate some of the conversations I had with Waite and Neville, the so called Major. I must warn you that to describe this part — the most important of the whole story — I am going to use the same offensive language and terms that were spoken. The swearing isn’t the problem, but some of the comments I made are sick, and are nothing that I believe. It was just for appearances.
I was sitting at the table with the Major, having a cup of coffee. The odd couple had gone intoPlymouthtown centre, shopping, and the Major and I were sitting opposite each other when he asked me this, ‘Are you on the square scouse?’
To be honest, I never had a clue what he was talking about, and was shrugging my shoulders when I noticed the ring he was twiddling around, and the Masonic insignia on it,
‘Oh! You mean the freemasons? No, I’m not in the Masons, but I see you are.’ I said, pointing to his ring.
‘No, I’m not a mason,’ he said, twiddling with his ring again until the insignia was gone. ‘This was my father’s.’
And that was the end of that. I certainly never thought anymore about it until I was in bed, and like a bolt out of the blue I realised the sneaky swine’s had been through my bag! What led me to that? Well, I used to work as a chef on the racecourses, and while I worked at Haydock racecourse, I got on very well with John Noble, who had the contract for the catering at that course, and a lot of other very large venues. His company name was ‘Roy’s Caterers’, and I did some work for him at Hope Street Masonic Hall inLiverpool, and also at Preston Masonic Hall. And in my appointments diary I had both phone numbers
This was the first time that the Freemasons had come into the equation, but certainly not the last. Actually their sneaky ways played into my hands, and as time went on, made me spot things others would have missed.
Back to some of our conversations, and the first came about because of the news on the TV concerning the Ethiopian Famine. I can still see the image of this poor child, standing there, his stomach distended, tears rolling down his cheeks, and flies covering his lips.
Jumping to his feet, Waite put his hand over his heart and said, ‘Bloody hell scouse, look at that poor kid, I feel terrible. They’re starving, and I’m dealing in their rice!’
Shaking my head and screwing my eyebrows, I laughed and said, ‘What the fuck’s up with you? They’re only fucking niggers, fuck them!’
At this, Waite fell onto the couch, laughing, and waving his finger at the Major and blurting out, ‘I told you he was one of us! I told you he was one of us didn’t I?’
The Major was grinning, but before he could say anything Waite started saying ‘The Major thought we couldn’t be sure of you, because you were seeing that Indian girl inSwansea.’
‘Nothing wrong with shagging a bit of black ham is there Major?’ I asked looking at him surprised.
The change in him was instantaneous, ‘Nothing wrong with that scouse.’ he sneered, before going into great detail, about what he and others used to do to the young Arab girls in the crater district of Aden, when he was serving in the army, under the command of the infamous Mad Mitch.
But from that moment, the Major was like my bosom buddy, and I played on that. He must have felt a lot safer around me because this was another man who couldn’t resist boasting.