Dear Yous,

Who will be after paying? Is what
i'll be after wanting to know?
Four nights yer man and his whore's
melt had at my boarding house (£15
a night. £17 inside toilet, No Tinkers)
And him with his pack of dogeens
wailing like Banshees half the night
(Jasus, Mary and Joseph' I said to
himself 'would you but listen to it?'
And didn't yer man tell me he was an
English 'lucky heather' salesman?

An Phoblact Abu
Katleen MacDermaid

P.S. you'll be hearing from Big Pat
so you will.

BERNARD WILSON THE AFTERMATH......

this is a series of about six letters......thanks for bearing with me

Dear All,

It is with great sadness and unabiding sorrow that I must
tell you of the demise of my husband the late great Bernard
Pandit Wilson. Who was tragically burnt to death in a Dublin
flop house (£15 a night, £17 inside toilet) fire.
Burned so badly that only his grieving mother could recognise
him (who could forget the harrowing moment that she stared
at his charred remains and said 'yep that's the little Asian get'
Why? oh why? oh why O'reilly?
The tragedy of it all, a fallen jostick catching the hem of his
kafkhan. The finest man i ever met snatched from me like a
pregnant woman's handbag on Conran Street market.
Oh why? (keep an eye on Mr O'Reilly....you know what them
Paddies are like)
What have i got to remember him by? Apart from eleven
whippets, seven children, five pups, one runt and a guitar with
'I'll get even with you Bert Weedon' scratched on it.
Do you know what it's like? The lonely bitter nights that I
stare at an empty chair that was once filled with laughter. The
bare swinging lightbulb casting shadows over objects that he
once held and cherished. An array of empty bottles lying empty
and finished in the corner. But they can't mask my hurt or avert
my agony. The memories of nights and double giro's ringing
in my ears. Taunting me, taunting me, taunting me.
How do I carry on when a mere tot says 'Where's Daddy?'
And I have to look little Everton in the face and say 'With Jesus'
The loneliness of holding a pillow and pretending it's him. Of
talking to a picture on the wall. Of reliving favourite moments
over and over and over again. Of a searing pain that knows of
no respite and torments and tortures your soul. That eats away
at the very fabric of your existence. Till you've forgot how to
wash, how to clean, how to laugh talk and think. Till you can't
walk to the shops or feed yourself and you're left face turned
to the wall crying.
Then you look at the tablets. Yes those tablets. His tablets. And
you count them like a kid counting smarties. And you look out
at the dark uncompromising night. The night that knows no end.
Knows no relief. Knows no sanctuary.
And it's then. Yes! Yes! Yes! It's then that you know you must
do what you must do.
But hey enough about me.....how's everybody there?

LOVE AND PEACE
DENISE WILSON (NEE TREMBLER)

Dear Mrs Fenton (or dare I say Brenda),

I'm not going to beat about the bush (actually i prefer
smoking it). I've got to put my true feelings on the
table. It's not been an easy week, last Sunday I
dropped me ganja tin in the buscuit barrell (face down)
and i've spent the last three days smoking ginger snaps.
I nearly O'D'd on a jammy dodger.
Picture with me, if you will, my prostrate body lying by
the cat flap. My head in the dogs bowl trying vainly to
either drink it or drown in it.
I went down for the third time and my whole life
flashed before my eyes and i decided you were the for
me. I know i've done more ballooning
than Richard Branson but that's all behind me now.
Give me one last chance!!!
I remember the first time we gazed across a housing
desk at each other, there was a complete fusion of
souls, linking of hearts and meeting of minds.
The sort of moment that great poets write poems about,
great artists paint about and great muscians play the
ukelele about. I never did write back and thank you for
cleaning my gutters. But since then i've known it could
only ever be you for me. On the windscreen of the car
that is my heart, on each side of the fluffy dice it reads
'BERNARD and MRS FENTON'.
Make a man of me. I will run through your hair barefoot
(Tuesday is best that is bath night).
I know I am married to Denise but it is a sham and a
lie. We've had words (when i could get one in edgeways)
I wear the trousers in our marriage (well apart from a
bit of cross dressing) and Denny has agreed to a Druids
divorce, which is slightly different from a Church of
England divorce (I have to amputate my left gonad with
a blunt butchers knife, take it to Stonehenge, and grill it
in virgins blood on soltice eve, before eating it.....a bit like
a bush tucker trial).
But it's all worthwhile for you.
It will be tough at first, just you and me (and the eleven
whippets, seven kids, five pups and a runt) but as soon
as i've finished my MANCAT course in Aggresive Begging
then the Earth is ours.
Brenda let me take you into my garden and show YOU to
my roses (as Brinsley Sheridan once so beautifully said).

LOVE AND PEACE
BERNARD WILSON

P.S. My heart is forever the prisoner of Brenda

Dear Mr O'Reilly,

Please withdraw my entry for the
'Hanging Gardens Of Beswick'
competition.
The Police raided me on Monday
night and me entry is now 'exhibit A'
in the Crown v Wilson.
Shame!!! I had my heart set on that
rosette.

LOVE AND PEACE
BERNARD WILSON

Dear All,

They can't hang you for a spelling mistake.
Not true!!! My Great Uncle Wesley Wilson was
hung because of one.
There he was in the condemned cell at
Strangeways when the telegram to commute
the hanging came through.
Trouble was whoever typed it at the home
office had made a mistake. Instead of
'execution cancelled' it read 'execution candelled'.
And as a consequence he had a magnificent
candle lit send off. It was like Liberace's bedroom
during a half price rent boy night.
Even Albert Pierpoint had a tear in his eye.

LOVE AND PEACE
BERNARD WILSON

Dear Mrs Fenton,

I'm suing that hypnotist. Ever since me and
Denise went to see him in the Queen Anne at
the 'Gala Night of Stars' (featuring the Nolan
Sisters minus the famous one and Little and
Large) I have been addicted to guerkins.
I bet I am the only man in Beswick who throws
away the bun and burger and eats the bloody
guerkin!!!
And another thing, everytime i hear the word
'hello' i have this overwhelming urge to bark
and growl like a dog.
Please explain to fat Janice on reception
that it wasn't a nuisance caller on the phone,
it was me. And can you ask her to say 'hi
Beswick housing' next time she answers it?.
I've barked and growled meself hoarse.
The worst thing is that once i start howling
then the eleven whippets, seven kids and five
pups all join in.

LOVE AND PEACE
BERNARD WILSON

Dear All,

Dib dob, dib dob.
This winter on Beswick Common we are
pitching marquees and having a disco
on the feast of the rancid goat.
This is to be a Shakespearean themed
fun day and we are calling it 'The Winter
Of Our Disco Tents'.
So don those shorts, wave those woggles
and gin-gan-get yerself down there on the
day!!!
Old campers never die they just peg out.

LOVE AND PEACE
BERNARD WILSON

Dear All,

My grandad was a station master for British Rail
and also a part time inventer. At night he'd sit
there getting ideas above his station.
And i'm no different i've written to Dragon's Den
with my latest invention.
It's a machine for taking kidney beans out of
pre-packaged chilli products.
Without giving too much away it's a collender on
a wire worked by a pulley and ratchet device with
a four cylinder enclave valve operating a guilotone
and sleuce system.
The man at the Patents Office said he'd never seen
it's like before. Then he went all sarky and asked
could i invent something to stop the whippets
pissing on the 'What to Do in Manchester'
information rack.
I'm after 90k for 12% equity.
Fingers crossed and we'll eat cake on this one

LOVE AND PEACE
BERNARD WILSON

Dear All,

just a short note to let you know i will
not be available on Wednesday
afternoons.
No! I will be in the park jacking off
Yes! The bowls season has started.
And this season I will be giving the
cricket a wide berth.
I've still not lived down last years
faux-pas. No indeed.
There I was on the balconey in the
members pavillion when the captain of
the Beswick X1 said 'You're in eight'
I thought he said 'Urinate' and the
rest as they say is history or
'Golden Showers Stops Play' as the
Advertiser waxed.

LOVE AND PEACE
BERNARD WILSON

Dear Mr O'Reilly,

Who are the silent majority?
And how do they communicate?
If these people are making signs
about me behind my back or
doing some kind of risque mime
implying things about me, then I
for one would like to know about
it.
Let's sort these smug bastards
out for once and for all

LOVE AND PEACE
BERNARD WILSON

Dear Mrs Fenton,

What's up with these Asians of late?
Everytime you see them nowadays
they are in a right paddy (no offence
Mr O'Reilly).
At one time they were all happy watching
Kabadi on Eurosport but nowadays nothing
but bombings and a man with a hook for
a hand (very useful if you drop your keys
down a grid).
Me and Denise turned the telly on last
Wednesday and it was that Ken Bigley
thing again.
The first time I seen Ken in that blindfold
surrounded by Asians I shouted to Denise
'Aye up Denny, them Asians have come up
with a follow up to Kabadi.....I think it's some
kind of Asian blindman's bluff'.
Anyway could you send round a surveyor for
the drains. There's a terrible smell in the
house. It's driving me, denise, the eleven
whippets, five pups an seven kids potty

LOVE AND PEACE
BERNARD WILSON

Dear Mr O'Reilly,

A nod is as good as a wink to a blind
horse. So between me, you and the gate
post (which incidently could do with a
lick of paint), I have a contact at the
T.V. licensing centre.
The month before the detector vans hit
Beswick he sends me a letter warning us.
So all the next month me and Denise keep
the door locked incase they knock.
Anyway let me know your address and i'll
see about getting you the same
arrangement

LOVE AND PEACE
BERNARD WILSON

P.S. Why are all dog licenses the same
price?...surely if you keep a back n white
dog that license should be cheaper?

Dear Mr O'Reilly,

I put pen to paper to avail you of Denise's
latest venture, Clonic Irrigation. Yes!!!
Clonic Irrigation. She used to work for
Dynarod so it's in her blood.
I gave her my plastic pipe from the old home
brew days and it brought tears to her eyes.
Her lips quivered and her knees trembled and
then she told me of the time as a Girl-Guide
on bob-a-job week.
She was washing cars with a hosepipe and shammy
and the driver of a punto took advantage of her
behind the bin shed over the pots of bergonia's.
She says it was the first time she attained orgasm
(which could account for the purchase of the new
waterbed).
Still that's all water under the bridge now!!!
So Mr O'Reilly if you need raking out then pipe
up for Clonic Irrigation

LOVE AND PEACE
BERNARD WILSON

Dear all,

just a note to say i'm back from
a conference of world religeous
leaders in Accrington. They were
all there Billy Graham, the Dali
Llama (God he can shift a bit of ale)
Rabi Goldberg, The Pope (never
knew he was a catholic, he don't
even look Irish) and Ian Paisley.
On the final night we had a fancy
dress ball and I went as the singing
nun and came second. Rabi Goldberg
stole it with his Adolf Hitler routine 'ein
volk, ein reich ein give me the
moonlight'. Ian Paisley was third with
his Joseph Locke impersonation
'I'll build a bonfire of your troubles
and watch them blaze away', it even
had the Methodists clapping along

LOVE AND PEACE
BERNARD WILSON

Dear All,

I feel after disscussion with my
therapist that I must tell you of my
tortured upbringing. At the hospital
where I was born another baby was
born only minutes before and my
Mother became convinced that me
and the other baby had been
swapped.
It became like an obsession with her.
She haunted the other women with
letters, phone-calls, threats and
malicious rumours about her and
the milkman. She even attempted to
kidnap the other child.
Finally Mrs Patel got an injunction
out against her.
But Mam or 'Mrs Wilson' as she made
me call her never took to me.
Even though i have got ginger hair
she used to say to my brothers
'What you playing with that Asian kid
for?'
But through therapy I have finally
come to terms with my past.
And I am a better person for it.

LOVE AND PEACE
BERNARD WILSON

Dear All,

sorry i haven't written that much of
late but i have been very busy.
I decided that my message is universal
and in the words of the Gospel according
to Saint Matthew I must 'speak in
tongues'. So I sent for some Linguaphone
records.
'Send no money now' said the advert
(the word now was a bit of a waste).
I wonder if the Disciples had the same
problems that i am encountering?
I mean I can order a cup of coffee in
Urdu but nowhere can I find the words
to warn people about the firey furnaces
of hell.
There was I on a podium in Rhyll shopping
mall armed with a copy of Clydd Cymru
thinking I was yelling 'Repent ye the
Kingdom of Heaven is at hand' and all the
time I was shouting 'is this an all night
launderette?'.
No converts but a two bag wash for the
price of one and a car sticker.

LOVE AND PEACE
BERNARD WILSON

P.S. Tell Mr O'Reilly that I will be
ordering my repairs in Cantonese
here on in.

Dear All,

I have just visited Gypsy Rose Kyle on
Blackpool Golden Mile and she read me palm
(she's done all the top stars Norman Vaughn,
Freddie Garrity, Ralph Milne....you name
'em she's done 'em).
And apparently I am to father a love child to
a Housing Team Leader, have a singing
carear culminating in a gay affair with Syd
Little and have a minor operation on my
left knee.
'Good heavens' i said 'Will i still be able to
do Knees Up Mother Brown at Butlins?
Thankfully yes.

LOVE AND PEACE
BERNARD WILSON

P.S. Gypsy Rose said that i would be
offered a job in the third world.
'Oh' i said 'that'll be in the cake shop
on Beswick precinct'.

DEAR HOUSING DEPARTMENT,

WE THE UNPOPULAR FRONT FOR THE LIBERTION OF
MONSALL BUT FUCK HARPURHEY WHAT HAVE THEY
EVER DONE FOR US, HAVE YOUR BERNARD WILSON.
THE PROMISE OF A GOOD WEED AND FOUR CANS
OF STELLA LURED HIM TO OUR SECRET HIDEOUT
ON TOP OF 'TAN AN TONE' ON QUEENS ROAD.
FOR THE SAFE RETURN OF THE ENDEARING
LOVEABLE RUNNING DOG OF THE CAPITALISTIC
PARASYTIC MAGGOTS THAT FEED ON THE ROTTING
UNDER BELLY OF A DECAYING SOCIETY OUR
DEMANDS MUST BE MET.
THEY ARE THREE IN NUMBER.

1) THE ABOLITION OF BRUSELL SPROUTS
2) A CASE OF WHITE LIGHTENING AND A SLEAVE
OF SUPERKINGS
3) THE RECLASSIFICATION OF MY COUSIN ROY
AS A POLITICAL PRISONER (he did rob the
Conservative club after all).

ALL POWER FROM THE
BARRELL OF A GUN

US

Dear Mr O'Reilly,

I seen the Bachelors on tele last night and
I shouted Denise in.
'Denny' i said 'i bet Mr O'Reilly and his little
colleen are jigging round his living room
watching this....i bet he's waving his
shelaighlee about and singing 'Oh Danny
Boy'. I bet your mam's best spoons (that
George Formby ate jelly off) are going
forty to the dozen....too be sure'
We didn't half laugh till Denise told me
about the time her Uncle Bob told her to
play hide n seek and then he raped her
in the coal shed. Still what's been done
has been done.

LOVE AND PEACE
BERNARD WILSON

P.S. If that thieving low life Bert Weedon
hadn't have nailed me hat on with that
iffy guitar i'd have strummed along
meself. I'll tell you Mr O'Reilly his initials
may be BW but come the glorious day he
gets his.