Whos The Bad Guy?

much.

PROLOGUE

This story is very brutal and violent it’s about a young boy and how he grows up throughout his childhood, then as a young man and into manhood and old age.

It has everything you want in a story, a beginning a middle and an ending.

I wanted you to feel this character and to feel the hardship and the cold brutality as he grows from a young man into a cold and mean fighting man, but yet still hold’s a great sense of humour throughout his life.

He is not an intelligent man when it comes to politics and commerce but he has a vast knowledge of life and how people’s minds work. In his world everything is black and white, an eye for an eye and with revenge on his mind at all times.

I hope you enjoy this story and find the truths that are here to be found in this book. Ray.

Where do you start telling your life story, the best place is to start at the beginning, well as far back as you can remember and I can go back a fair bit.

I was born one of five children, I had two older brothers and two younger sisters both parents being Irish with me slap bang in the middle.

I remember my early childhood very well. I never liked my father I know that seems a strange thing to say for a kid who at the time was only three years old, but even then I knew he was an odd bastard and someone to be feared.

He never showed any of us the slightest bit of affection all we ever got was cold stares that would put the shits up us.

We all know what we want as a kid, you would like to run into your dad’s arms and play games and feel safe and protected. This wasn’t to be for me! For me it would be like running into the arms of that murdering bastard Fred West, you know the guy who killed his own kids and others the bastard.

Maybe that was the way in those days to be hard with your kids. I don’t know, all I do know though is he never hit me as bad as my brothers, just the odd smack now and again. He had his own ways of getting to me with his nasty looks and cold stares.

He hit my mother a few times, not a nice thing for me as a little kid to see or anyone else for that matter, but even at my age I wanted to get him for hitting my mother but I was too scared and so were my brother’s. I would think to myself when I grow up I will get you back for hitting my mother. I had it all planned in my head which way I would kill him. I would beat the crap out of him like he did to my mother, and as he lay on the floor blood pouring from him and begging me for mercy I would let him have it and he would be no more.

Well that never happened lucky for him. I know that all this sounds bad but that is how I felt at the time. So perhaps my violent streak started way back then.

It turned out that my father wasn’t the killer and never would be, he was just an out and out bully. Though all this time his seed was growing and the killer will one day show his face.

I remember one Christmas he brought us brand new peddle cars each, well just for us boy’s. Now I have to say that it was the biggest shock for us that’s my brothers and me. So maybe our father did care about us after all we thought, perhaps we had got him all wrong and he is a loving dad deep down.

We were the talk of the street, here we were the scruffy kids on the block with brand new peddle cars. I have to tell you we thought we were the dog’s bullocks peddling our cars up and down the street for everyone to see. It was as if Hollywood had come to the back streets of Birmingham and I was playing the leading role. As you can imagine I was lapping up all the attention that was coming my way.

For once everyone on the street wanted to play with us instead of keeping their distance from us as they had done in the past. There was no way any one was ever getting near our cars never mind getting into them, well not unless they gave us money or sweets, but then there was not too much of either around in those days.

Some of the parents were shouting for their kids to come away from us as they did not know where the cars had come from and insinuating they might be stolen and the police would turn up any minute now and arrest us.

They really wanted to keep their kids away from us as they thought that they might catch nits from us, well they were right about the nits they had every chance of catching them.

Some cheeky so and so came right out and wanted to know where our dad had pinched the cars from as he was known in the area as a piss head with no money. As well as always looking for trouble or a fight.

To be honest with you my brothers and me thought the same as the people in the street and that he had stolen them. Nevertheless we carried on playing regardless to all the dirty looks we got from the people on the street. I have to be honest with you here, they really were no better than us, just a lot cleaner. Besides if he had have stolen them I could not have cared less and it would have taken the whole of fucking Scotland yard police force to take my car away from me.

That night I parked my car away from my brothers cars in the back yard as I did not want to get it scratched. This car was my pride and joy, something that was mine and I did not have to share it with anyone.

I gave it a good clean that night not that it was dirty but I felt good doing it and it filled me with pride. I have to be honest with you my car was a lot cleaner than me being that I was a dirty little shit from the bad side of Birmingham.

That night before I went to sleep I looked out of the window from our bedroom that my brothers and I shared. There was nothing much in our bedroom, just three beds and a bucket to piss in as we had no inside toilet. The only toilet we had was in the yard and we were not allowed to go to the toilet once we had gone to bed.

I went to the window to look at my car I was hoping it did not rain not after I had spent so long cleaning it, I looked down and there it was below my window my car shining in the moon light and waiting for me to start her up in the morning and take to the street’s once again.

In my mind my car had a V8 engine and was the fastest car in Birmingham no one could out race me, well really it would only go as fast as my little legs would take it. I stared at it for a long time before my brothers shouted at me to shut the window and get into bed as it was freezing. I got under the blankets and went to sleep a happy lad that night. The next morning it was Boxing Day we all got up to play with our cars.

I was first to look out of the bedroom window with a big smile on my face looking down to where I had parked my car. Holy fuck! My car has gone and is nowhere to be seen. Some robbing bastard has stolen my car. Tears filled my eyes as I looked at the empty space where I had parked it last night. I then looked across to where my brother’s cars were parked and there’s had gone as well! Holy fuck I shouted at my brothers, get up quick the cars have gone!

We all race down the stair’s trying to get our clothes on and at the same time shouting some bastard has stolen the cars. We ran into the yard to see the back gate was shut with the lock on, so how the fuck did they get them out we asked each other scratching our heads at the same time. We must have woken the whole street up, never mind the nits with all the shouting and scratching we were doing.

We were the only people in the whole of the street with a fucking lock on the gate and we had nothing to pinch! Not until today of course.

We ran up and down all the streets in the area hoping to catch the robbing fuckers but they were nowhere to be seen. The robbing bastards had got clean away. We never did find out what happened to our cars, we were told not to ask any questions by our mom when she finely got up and she did not look surprised that our cars were gone. I think he, my dad that is must have sold them as he liked to gamble on the horses and drink the beer. I cannot tell you how heartbroken me and my brothers where that day.

We were right about our dad the bastard he did not give a flying fuck for us we were saying to each other. The bastard had sold our cars. Once again my thoughts came back to what I would do to him when I was a grown up.

I would run the bastard over in my real car.

Having the cars taken was bad enough but then we had to face the kids on the street, as you can imagine they never let up for weeks taking the piss day after day. They would say to my brothers how comes you are walking your nits to school and not driving them. It was relentless piss taking. So I learnt from an early age how cruel people can be, even the adults were having there say and taking the piss as well. You couldn’t say nothing to them because they would give you a clip round the ear and to be honest you did have respect for your elders in those days not like today. If you touch anyone today you are up in court which I think in a lot of cases is all wrong, but who am I to say how the law should work.

You will find out later in the book about me and the law.

Later for us after my dad had left, Christmas with my mother was better, not because we had more and were better off we were far from that. It was because we got to keep our presents. Now Christmas was great for us, and knowing that our presents were there in the morning when we got up was always a great surprise for me even though they broke and never lasted long.

My dad left when I was about four and I have never seen him again to this day and I am now fifty eight. I am not sure how I feel about this after all these years. I suppose I would like to know what happened to him, if he had more kids did he treat them like he did us with brutality and behave completely unloving. I am sure that if he did have more kid’s he would have been the same as he was with us, a cold hearted bastard.

My mother asked about him just a few weeks ago while I was visiting at her house having breakfast.

She is getting old now and you do look back at your life now and again thinking what might have been. I am sure if he had stopped and not deserted us we would all be dead by now.

I think like me my mother just wanted to know why he left and for what reasons did he go and why he never ever got in touch with us ever again. I often wondered what happened to him but that’s as far as it got with me.

I have never tried to find him and I never will. The only thing I have to say is fuck the bastard. He will die one day not knowing the hatred I have for him that’s if he is not dead already. He will never know that he has grandkids and great grandkids.

My two older brothers John and Colin had the worst of him and were beaten often. I would hear their screams as I played outside knowing that my time for a beating would come soon.

It wasn’t for playing him up they would get a beating . Sometimes it just depended on the mood he was in, and sometimes he would beat them for not knowing there times tables, that’s maths for those of you that don’t know. Also the looks we got from him would put the fear of god into your very soul.

I was lucky I was too young to be doing my times table, but he could still put the fear of god in me and make me piss my pants. If that happened then I would have to wear those same pants all week as my mother was not a very clean person and would only wash our clothes at the week end. This meant I would get the piss taken out of me by the kids on the street who could see the stains on my pants and taunt me with all sorts of names that would send me home in floods of tears. I must have given off a ripe old smell.

My dad would take my older brothers to the park and tell them to fight with the other kids who were just playing on the swings. He would give money to these lads on the swings to fight my brothers. If my brothers lost they would get a beating from our dad. I never found that out till later on in my life. I can assure you my brothers did not lose a fight that often. As for me I was too young to be fighting, but only just. My time would come and I would learn to fight later on in my life.

As soon as I was old enough for school I knew he would be taking me to the park for a fight. I knew I would lose as I was no good at fighting at that age.

Fucking hell I would be getting a beating in the park from the kids on the swings and then another when I got home from my Dad for losing the fight. I knew I was no good at this fighting game. Thank god that never happened to me, he never did take me to the park as he had left before I was old enough.

One day when I was coming up to my fourth birthday my dad took me to a house. Some man owed him some money. I knew the only reason he took me was because he thought he would be safe with a young kid in tow. How wrong was he, this guy came to the door some words were exchanged and then this guy kicked my dad right in the bollocks, my dad he went down like a sack of spuds moaning and holding his bollocks as he went down. As you can imagine I was never so happy in my life and scared shitless at the same time.

I was hoping this guy would kick him again only harder. I wanted to give him a few kicks as well while he was on the floor but he would know it was me and I would be in big trouble. The man at the door told my dad to fuck off and not come back again and shut the door on him.

At that point as much as I wanted to laugh or say something I couldn’t for fear of getting a beating from my dad. Don’t forget I am not four yet and this is the way I am thinking. My dad grabbed me by my arm hard and gave me one of his evil looks that made me shake and want to piss my pants at the same time. He looked at me and said if I ever told anyone what had just happened I would be getting a beating that I would never forget for the rest of my life. I had never had a proper beating off him so far. I didn’t want one either, but the temptation was too much.

I could not wait to tell my brothers. It took me an hour to find them as they had gone out playing and there was me bursting to tell them the great news, that I had seen our dad getting his bollocks kicked.

The smiles on their faces and on mine were a picture as I told them what had happened to our dad. What a great day. So there is a god after all. I will go to church on Sunday and thank god and see if I can steel some money out of the collection box. I know all this sounds bad but that’s how I was thinking at the time.

I hope that my dad got many more kicking’s throughout his fucking life the bastard.

Another time I remember him taking me into Birmingham city one Saturday morning. Why have I got to go I asked my mother to receive a hard slap to the face as she told me to shut the fuck up and I was to do as I was told, I was about three at the time.

My dad just left me on the corner of some street in the middle of the city telling me not to move till he came back. Off he went and never came back until hours later, and me still in my piss stained pants.

What sort of man does that to a three year old lad, a fucking head case that’s who. I don’t know why but I was not scared, the place was so busy, everyone in a hurry, busses and cars flying passed, I’m not sure why but it seemed a little bit exciting to me being out there on my own, like a big adventure.

Little did I know at that point in my life I would have many adventures in the coming years. People were stopping and asking me if I was ok as they had seen me standing there for some time. I managed to make an excuse, I cannot remember what I said but it worked for a little while.

Then people started to gather round me asking if I was lost. It was then that I started to cry thinking I had been dumped by my dad and that I was in a lot of trouble. I should have been happy that he had left me now I look back in time.

I started to think what if he never comes back, would I go to a new family? If I did would that mean I would have clean clothes every day, and sweets as well as a bag of chips now and again, or even a fish all of my own that I didn’t have to share with my brothers and sisters. A proper bath would be nice, though I have to say it wasn’t on the top of my list, but to get into a bath with clean water that was not dirty from my brothers who were always in the bath first. This meant I had to wash in their dirty scummy water. Yes that would have been so good I thought to myself.

To get in the bath first in our house would have been a treat, but for us in our house it wasn’t a bath we had to wash ourselves in but a washing machine!

Not a front loader like nowadays thank fucking god! But one that opened at the top and was heated by gas from the bottom. Our Mother would not put us in first, before we were allowed into it to wash ourselves my mother would wash the clothes! Fucking hell we were dirty little fuckers.

I am still standing there daydreaming as all these women are pointing at me, then out of the blue my dad he turned up.

He got a few bad stares mostly from the women and a few nasty comments for leaving me there. He just told them to go mind their own fucking business. Then he grabbed me by the arm and dragged me off, as soon as we were out of sight of every one I got a clip round the ear for crying and I was told by him I was never to tell my mother that he had left me there or I will get a proper beating. Now this time when he threatened me with a beating I was scared and I didn’t know why.

I never did tell my mother till years later, she wasn’t a bit surprised when I told her. I think she knew what he was up to, and she made him take me along that day to stop him doing just that. I’m not sure what he was up to that day myself but I think now looking back it must have been another woman. There’s me standing on some street corner while my dad is shagging some woman somewhere, that should give you more of an idea what kind of man he was then.

Not long after that he was gone for good never to return. Well as you can imagine me and my brothers were so happy he was gone. The only fear we had was that he would come back, so we planned it between ourselves if he did come back we would jump on him and kill the fucker with our bare hands and then bury him in the back yard. That way no one would ever find out and we would keep the secret till we all died.

Even though my mom was upset about him leaving it turned out right for her in the end and even better for us.

My mother she is still going strong today at the grand old age of eighty seven bless her.

Life wasn’t easy for us back then but it was the same for everyone that lived in the same area as us. We lived in a Terraced house, a bit like Coronation Street the famous television program. When you stepped out of your front door you were straight onto the foot path in the street no front garden just a small back yard. We also had a corner shop at both ends of the street.

I used to pass these shops every day as I went to school. I would look through the shop window and see all the sweets lined up in there jars. What a temptation that was for a greedy little bastard like me.

One day temptation and greed took over me. I decided I would rush in and grab some sweets and leg it down the road with them, what can go wrong? This is a great plan and no one will see me I will be so fast. I will be in and out like a flash, and my dad has fucked off so no beating from him, happy days I thought. So that is just what I did, I waited outside the shop till there was no one inside and the shop keeper had gone into the back room. Then my big moment came I rushed in grabbed the first jar of sweets I could get my grubby little hands around.

Unfortunately the jar I grabbed was a