Who’s this bloke then – Tom?’
‘Oh, he’s from Newport, comes here – Oh! I know – I THOUGHT he’s the one – he’s off on the sick now – old Beaumont said he has bouts when the moon’s full . . .’
‘Aye, he sweeps up – the job you’re doing – he’s a hard case, a hard man .
‘Well, with Peter and all that’s what the job does to you – I ought to pack the fucking thing up, then – (laughter)’
‘Oh ah: you’ll be seeing the fucking rats next . . ‘
‘Rats?’
‘He gave his fucking breakfast away one morning to old Reggie and then wandered round the fucking shop ten minutes after looking for his tea . .’
‘Oh, he has visions, oh he sees visions’ – (bursts into laughter).
‘Visions?’
‘I’ve seen him sit round the back of the fucking lockers and suddenly go as white as a sheet and stare at fuck all . . . He had a ‘vision’. (laughter).
‘He stands absolutely bloody still leaning on his brush, and next thing he’s running round the fucking shop down there (pointing) – brushing like fucking hell . . .’
‘Brushing the fucking rats away – – (laughter)’.
‘Ten past four one day and he’s down here brushing his fucking guts out and we said ‘Pack up Tom, we’re off now’, and he says ‘what! with all these fucking rats?’
‘What’s all this about rats?’
‘Oh, he reckoned he saw millions of fucking rats dodging about the machines, all round the shop: we all had to join him – we were all seeing the fucking things . . (laughter)’
‘He’s all right though, he just has these fits – he’s a decent bloke really . . .’
‘But he’s off sick now – he’s got one of his bouts . .?’
‘Oh yes – mind you, from what I hear he’s having a bit of trouble with his next door neighbour – I think he’s building a fucking garage or something, and the roof is hanging over Tom’s fence by a couple of inches – and it’s his house . .’
‘Oh – he’s bought his own house now, has he?’
‘Aye, so I’ve heard anyway – he’s supposed to have been to the solicitors – they’ll be taking him for a fucking ride – I think he knows the solicitor – The solicitor’ll take all his fucking money – he’ll have to pay them for just talking to him you know . .’
‘And just for two fucking inches! (measures with fingers – indicates slope of roof and overhang over imaginary fence)’
Oh – fucking visions (laughter) – VISIONS! (laughter . . . .)’
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