Business Booming!!! Top Scrap Prices Paid!!! No Questions Asked!!!

The shop smelt of dust and metal polisher and backs of watches and lavender air freshener. From behind a flimsy looking security screen, the old Jew (who's probably not Jewish at all) raised his head and scrutinised me through a little brass eye piece. Knowing I was magnified in his view made me feel uncomfortable, like he was able to see my guilt seeping out with the sweat from my pores. After weighing me up, satisfied I wasn't there to rob but to be robbed, he dismissed me and turned back to continue what he had been doing when I'd entered. In a pair of tweezers he held a little rock of something up to the light. He then squinted extra hard through his eyeglass, shook his head and cursed. Laying the little rock on his table, he suddenly brought a hammer down on top of it, crushing it into powder like it was a grain of sea salt: “Zircon!” he hissed, picking up a new rock and repeating the process. Three times he did that before spinning around and shoving a metal tray through to my side of the screen.

Into the tray I dropped one 'Super Dong' ankle chain. The old jeweller tugged the compartment violently back across to his side. Before looking at my offering he pointed to his little pile of crushed sea salt and with no discernible movement of his lips he said hastily “Business no' good! Top prices extremely low!” I pulled a 'so what' face and shrugged. I didn't care about business or top prices. As long as the chain got melted down into molten innocence he could fucking have it. When the Old jeweller finally looked down at what I'd dropped in the bottom of the tray he just shook his head and  glanced up at me like I was a time-wasting louse. “Is that it?” was all he said.

Without even removing the ankle chain from the tray, the jeweller took a little glass pipette from out a jar and dropped a drip of blue liquid on it. While he waited he asked: ”Where j'ya get it? Izzit hot? Heist? Bag snatch? Kinder Surprise? Got a receipt? I need a receipt!” Before having time to even say “No” the tray was slammed back my way and the ankle chain almost jumped up into my hands: “Snot gold!” he said “Copper/brass alloy. Snot gold!” And he turned around in disgust and went back to pulverizing his diamonds.

“What d'you mean 'Snot Gold'?” I for some reason shouted in through the tray hatch.
At that The Old Jeweller span around furiously with his mallet raised, “D'ya just call me a 'mean Jew'?” he snapped magnifying me up again, “Ya said 'Jew mean'!”
“Huh??? D'you mean – DO YOU – not Jew!” I screeched back
“Hmmm, you're a sly one. Well s'not gold. Same thing. IT'S NOT. Now Bugguh'roff!”

As soon as the Jeweller said that I could tell it was a no show. Without the shimmer of even the dullest 9 carat gold I didn't exist to this man. For a second I stood there, weighing John's 'Super Dong' ankle chain in my hand. “Two, maybe three grams” I thought. Then I clenched my fist on my jailbait and thought of that thing about punching someone with a weight in your hand and how it doubles the impact. I imagined giving the old diamond crusher one right in the face. And then I started laughing, in little fits at first, then harder, and finally hysterically. “Snot gold!” I boomed “Brian you fucking little cheapskate!” And then I heard the tinkle of bell and I was pushing past the door and out into the street.

Business Booming!!! Top Scrap Prices Paid!!! No Questions Asked!!!

Yeah right! Snot fucking gold!


  1. I've not read this one back so excuse any typos or confusion or such. Tristram. X

  2. I know so many men like that Brian .. all fur coat and no knickers ... cheap tart of a man.
    You slow down now, never cross a fake jew.. they can be worse than the real thing....
    ( I can say that with my Jewish name :)

  3. Ruth: Oh, I didn't mean he was a 'fake jew', more he's come to be known as 'that old jew' and it sticks and in fact he's not Jewish at all and has never claimed to be. So it's like that old thing where every asian person is called a 'paki'. So Tristram describes him as The Old Jew, but then points out 'he's probably not even Jewish'. X

    Simon: He. Is. According. To. Me. X

  4. waiting for john is exquisite and brilliant! honestly. in each entry there are more memorable lines than in most books. incredible work. thanks.

  5. Given that John was staying with you and seems to have no other relatives, that would make you his executor I imagine.(I'll check with my fake lawyers).

    So the chain is yours and Brian has defrauded you.

    Of course you can't take him to court without being taken to court yourself but still.

    One more reason he has to go...

  6. I'm leaning in the opposite direction. Mail the "Cracker Jack prize" ankle chain to the little home wrecking post person, and tell him to have John put it on during their next fuck fest!


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