Always Read the Label Chapter 21 Season's Greetings

"Here you go, Happy Christmas".
There's an exaggerated drunken fling and the card, with the envelope already ripped, lands in front of me on the table, narrowly missing the growing pile of empty glasses sitting there spurned. I find it weird to be given a Christmas card in the middle of a long afternoon in the pub with people I didn't have down as being the type to send them. I'm in no rush to open it but get encouraged to do so.

I'm home to spend Christmas with my family and feel like a fish out of water. Not because of the family, it's more coming back to find the people who've stayed so unchanged. When I'd got on the bus from Piccadilly I saw all the familiar sights in a new light. Strangeways, even without anyone on the roof, looked reassuringly solid and still cautionary. Coming out of Cheetham Hill that weirdly shaped pub, the House That Jack Built was still there. Listening to a new Discman, and at one point our new single, I'd spent the final part of the journey wondering what to expect.

I hadn't expected the Christmas Card. I give in and open it instead of heading to the bar. There's a laugh from around the table as my jaw is seen to drop. It's not one for the mantelpiece. But I can't take my eyes off it, sure that I know the girl on the front wearing nothing but a Santa Hat as she sprawls on an unmade bed. I say wearing nothing but the hat, but there's a huge pink dildo which can be seen sticking out from between her splayed legs. I'm torn between looking straight at this gynaecological view and her face which I'm convinced I recognise.

"She doesn't half look familiar", immediately detesting the parasite of a London accent that has attached itself to my voice.
"Bet you've never seen her like that before though".
At first I think he means the Santa hat, but realise he's referring to a bit lower down before I answer and ask who she is.
"Anna. Remember her? She used to go out with Al before she got involved with her lovely new boyfriend who took the snapshot".

I do remember her. She was really good looking and quite posh. Not as skinny as that if I remember right. Wonder what Boots thought when they developed the snaps?
"She goes out with Frasier. Or she did until he gave pictures to everyone".

Frasier. A massive and nasty bouncer at the worst club in the area. Towering over most people means he gets his own way. And when he doesn't he's good at fighting. So relaxed with it, he whistles while he works. Thud, whistle, thud, whistle, silence. His body, sick of the constant repair-work, has hidden all his bones behind thick padding, meaning theres no clear edges, just a blur.

Apart from seeing him in action once (I think the tune was Sweet Caroline that night) I remember hearing whispers about a guy playing guitar in Frasier's local pub one Sunday night who decided to start winking at his mum. Him and his brothers nipped home to get a spade then waited for guitar man to leave. He was pinned down and the spade used to make sure he could never play guitar again. Don't know if they mentioned him carrying on as a singer now he didn't have enough fingers left to pick up chips. One to avoid at all costs - so how on earth did Anna get involved with him?

"He owns Topaz now. Somehow managed to convince the old owner, who'd had enough of the constant hassle, to sell it to him on the cheap. I wonder how? Soon as he got it, he puts all the prices up. Loads of objections but it's the only place to drink late every night of the week. Made a lot of money which he liked to flash about in Casinos, Salford being the nearest and his favourite. As soon as you flash a bit of money it attracts moths. Anna was one of those moths blinded by the lights. Probably seemed glamorous at first standing by his side while he wasted all the nights takings. Frasier's clever though and realised that pretty soon she wouldn't find missing the day and getting up in the afternoon to head straight to an empty nightclub that smells of stale piss and beer until 2am wasn't that much fun.

"So he started to slip her speed in every drink. Not just little bits, two or three grams a day. Then no matter what she did she was enthusiastic, never wondering too much why she was never eating, probably cos it kept her thin. I remember seeing her a while back. What a head turner. She looked stunning, all bubbly and chatty with designer clothes that fitted like a glove. Then I saw her again about a few months later. Drastic change. Really skinny, spotty and silent. All the flash clothes she'd been bought were dropping off her and she looked like she was about to burst into tears. One of her mates told me she was worried for her and knew that Anna was trying to leave but was petrified. Not just of him, but of having got so used to the speed she'd found out he was feeding her. By this time she'd moved in and fell out with her parents. He made her give up her job, making sure her only income was from him. He'd got control of her and had her doing anything he wanted. which included taking pictures. Some are even worse than the one on the card. When she found out he was showing them round, she threatened to leave. so he started showing them round even more every time she tried to get away. Said he'd send them to her family. Eventually the constant speeding took its toll and she had a bit of a breakdown. He just moved on to another willing victim. She's pretty fit as well".

What a nice way to end up when all you wanted was a few drinks, a laugh and a bit of look-at-me status. I need a drink. Best make sure Frasier doesn't buy it. Making my way to the bar I remember how the The Pack Horse has always been known as a bit of a rough pub, a frontier bar with no rules. But now it seems even more like the Wild West with everyone smoking spliffs openly, even at the bar. Before I went away I was treated like a leper if I tried to skin up, but now I'm the only one not rolling up. What on earth changed everyone's minds I ask when I plonk the drinks down.

"We've all been going off raving in Manchester and Blackburn. Everyone loosened up with the pills that were doing the rounds. I've never seen so many take to being off their heads. The new landlady had a different take on things from Eddie, who hated everyone who drank here, despite taking their money. Remember when he caught Pete pretending to suck off the stuffed horse?"

I do remember the look on his face when he saw the daftest lad to drink here getting up close to the life-size pack-horse someone at the brewery decided would be a good idea to pull the punters in. I think Pete was banned for life. The horse seems to have been exiled as well. We spent weeks at the time trying to get Eddie to reconsider the ban, telling him they were in a stable relationship.

"There's pills knocking about if you fancy one?"
I start to answer with an excuse when there's a commotion at the door and Timmy from the Waltzers bundles in heading towards our table with just a pause to shout 'dirty girls' at some girls who don't even bother to look up on his way over.

"I've got you some cheese. Do they have that in London?"
He puts down a block of Nice Price cheddar and has a last shout at the girls who continue to ignore him before asking who's buying him a pint. Before he finds a donor an out of place Asian guy comes through the same door and spotting Timmy heads boldly to the table. He simply picks up the cheese and walks out. I find out it's a relationship they've been in for some time - the Asian guy from the Spar next door and Timmy from the Waltzers, the world's worst shoplifter. Perhaps not the world's worst, but definitely the worst at bothering to even try to hide his crime. He even winks as he puts it in his pocket usually.

"Busted again Timmy?"
"Must have seen me. Think he has one of those CCBBCTV things in his shop".
Or just a pair of eyes and a reluctance to see his profits from cheese pass to Timmy. No idea why it's always cheese, but it is.
"Been looking at the Christmas card? Nice isn't it. Looks like she got her stockings filled. I sent one to my mum".
I can well believe this but hope it's not true.
"Lets go to Topaz. It'll be rammed tonight".

Timmy, who was definitely hit with the tar brush but not the hairbrush, loves this type of place. With his dark unruly curls and sad eyes, someone, hopefully a female, will eventually ask him if he's from a gypsy background, but not mention that he looks like a gypsy who doesn't wash much, and he'll lure them into his trap with tales of the fairground his family still travels with. More than likely, I'll end up propping up a corner and trying not to stare at Frasier who'll be walking around like a gorilla, before taking my chances standing in line waiting for a kebab I'll regret later. Of all the places I hoped he'd not mention this is top of the list. I start thinking of an excuse right away, but play along for now. It's easy when the pub's this comfortable and there's so much to catch up on, the ease of familiarity.

The excuses I offered were feeble and I've just paid a fiver to get into somewhere I'd of happily paid twice that amount to avoid. Timmy's already had his hair ruffled by one of a gang of divorcees clucking at the bar, which means he'll be here till the bitter end to make sure he's not alone tonight.There's no one our age here, it's single mums keen not to be single for much longer and those who have been through the mill of marriage and come out the other end having learned nothing. Or if they have its stored away for tonight. I'm being a bit too cynical and realise everyone's here to shake off the loneliness briefly. It's just that no one will recognise me and ask if I'm in a band now I'm away from the dizzying clique of London. How quickly I've written off my roots. It's time to join in rather than brag about membership, so I take some drinks over and to enjoy the banter, which is easier than I thought when I hear the comforting accents between the cackley flirting. Drinks flow and stories get unleashed from Timmy the ringmaster. Everyone in the group seems to have seen that Christmas card, but Timmy makes sure by showing it round again, mentioning she looks like she got her stockings filled to much laughter, extended by one of the women claiming to have one of those at home.

I end up dancing to a song I hate with someone I don't know, wondering why Dr. Beat can't help me. I'm called briefly from the dancefloor to drink some shots in a messy hunch and dragged back on to it as soon as I've shuddered at the unwanted force feeding. The dancefloor's packed so I'm managing to stay out of reach and hide behind an inability to hear when I get whispered the odd sweet nothing-much which buzz my ear with the breathed alcohol and volume. Over the top of the music there's an announcement calling the door staff to the front which I half take in. A few large bodies make hurried movements towards the stairs and Timmy nods a 'looks dodgy' face.Something's obviously going on at the cash desk as more and more bouncers head down the stairs.

"One last drink then?" Not really a question but a statement from Timmy as he heads to the bar.
He's taking ages talking to the bar man before heading back over empty handed.
"You get them in. I've just gotta pop downstairs for a minute".
I've dished the drinks out when he returns.
"Drink up. We need to get out of here".
He's spent all night doing the spade work on the women, so something's wrong if we're heading off so quick.
"Someones dropped a cash till on one of the bouncer's head. He's in a bad way and there's gonna be a loads of filth here soon. Grab your coat, we need to head off sharpish".
As we wave the group of women seem startled by us going but too pissed to get it together to ask why. There's a big group at the bottom of the stairs with some legs sticking out of the surrounding crowd of black suits. A girl's voice keeps sobbing 'Danny, Danny' while a few huskier voices keep issuing threats. At one point on the stairs I see through the scrum an upturned cash register with the money tray sticking out and an Afro that's been flattened along one side. I really don't want to make eye contact with people revving up for revenge so look ahead and slip through the door where two other bouncers stand issuing similar threats while smoking. I just want to get away from this, but Timmy asks one for the bouncers he must know what happened.
"Nasty little gang from round Salford way. I remember one being in the club a few weeks ago on his own. Must have come to the door in a few groups tonight, standing in line as good as gold. When they went through the front door they must have slipped the bolt on from the inside, while we're busy dealing with a bit of a commotion out here. There's only Danny on the door inside and Cath who takes the money. She says they made a grab for the till which Danny tries to stop. He gets dragged to the ground and either the till falls or they push it off the table onto him before he presses the alarm button. We're still trying to sort the pissheads out here so don't notice the door's closed until four guys suddenly barge past us and we notice Danny lying on the floor. Frasier's gonna torture those guys when he finds them, especially as it's Danny who's hurt. A full nights takings from the door. If I was them I'd fuck off abroad. Forever. Danny looks in a bad way".

On the way through the deserted market to the taxi rank, I wish I'd never heard that story. Timmy's quiet too as we wait for a taxi to roll up. I get in the first one that arrives promising to see Timmy later. As we're about to pull off he knocks on the window and the driver stops while I wind it down.
"I like Danny, we went to school together, he was always skint".
I start to wind the window up thinking he's finished and not knowing what to say. Before the window closes completely he adds:
"He never had a head for money".