Lily Poole

By Jack O'Donnell

A ground-breaking blend of ghost story, murder mystery and Scottish social drama

Tuesday, 5 August 2014

The Bam Projectory

I was out at the pub watching a Champions League match. (I won’t be saying that for a while.) Punters were crowding round the bar and the barmaid was looking through me as if I was made of glass. I bumped into Tam-who-will-remain nameless.

    ‘You’ll never believe it,’ he said. ‘Somebody’s put a video of somebody that looks like you up selling something?’

    ‘What is it?’ I said.

    ‘Dunno,’ he said. ‘But it’s really funny.’

    Neither of us laughed.

    ‘You should see it,’ he said. ‘You on Facebook?’

    I tried to catch the barmaid’s eye, or her arm and I might have shouted Margaret or Mary at her.

    ‘You should really go on Facebook,’ Tam-who-will-remain nameless said.

    ‘You on it?’ I asked.

    ‘Aye,’ he said. ‘Everybody’s on it.’

    ‘I’ll no’ bother then.’

    We both laughed.

‘Hi,’ I shouted at the barmaid.

She didn’t shout anything back. Just served the guy next to me. That’s when I went in a huff and stormed out of the pub and into Macintoshes round the corner. They weren’t showing the game, so I had to slink back into the same pub as Tam-who-will-remain nameless.

If Tam-who-will-remain nameless had any mates he’d be telling them the guy that’s just come in is a weirdo. He thinks he’s wrote a book. And even if he has wrote a book, it’ll be shite, cause he’s a weirdo.

I’ll let you and Tam-who-will-remain nameless decide.

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