Introduction
I'd like you to meet Fearless Francis. He is a little boy living in Glasgow in the late 1950s. He lives in a fantasy world, playing in the tenement streets, having all sorts of imaginary adventures.
But they are more like mishaps.....
Fearless Francis
in
The Martian Invasion Of Cubie Street - Part 1
In which our hero is sent out for a packet of tea
and encounters a spaceship disguised as a furniture shop.
To a seven-year-old boy, the world was an exciting place. In his world, he was a super hero, afraid of nothing. He pored over his Superman and Batman comics (bought for 9 old pennies from a shop in Orr Street), his young mind soaking in all the fantastic stories that helped feed his wild imagination.
One day, the wee boy's Granny sent him off to Paterson's Dairy for a packet of Red Label Brooke Bond tea. Paterson's was just across the road from the wee boy's close - that shop being on one end of the tenement on the right and Dick's Dairy being on the other, to the left. Depending on the Granny's state of 'tick' (credit), she rotated between the two.
While still at his front door, the wee boy spun round quickly, transforming himself into Fearless Francis - his woollen jumper and short trousers changing into an imaginary blue costume and cape. These colours he changed frequently, depending on what comics he had read. So Fearless Francis, his super acute hearing switched on and x-ray vision already scanning for wrongdoing, continued on his mission, but first he had to fight off 20 Martians who lay in wait for our intrepid hero at the close mouth (tenement entrance). Battling his way onto the street he dispensed with them one by one. Having saved the world yet again, he crossed the road. It was quite safe for a child then, not many cars went down Cubie Street.
But what was this? A new shop had just opened right in the middle of the tenement opposite. Was this the spaceship of his arch enemy Zantor, heavily disguised as a shop? Obviously this had to be investigated. For only one man could face the evil Zantor - Fearless Francis!
It was a second-hand furniture shop. Grotty old smelly settees filled the place, chairs stacked up on the corner, tables dispersed among the settees and wardrobes lining the back wall. It looked as if the shop was not open for business yet. There was no sign above the shop, but the door was open. This could be a trap, thought Fearless Francis, using his super power brain.
Fearless Francis crept in quietly, turning his head from left to right, scanning the shop with his x-ray vision, ready for any eventuality. Unfortunately his x-ray vision failed to spot the big man standing right in front of him as he turned his head back to the front.
"Whit the f*** are ye dae'n in ma shoap, ya nosy wee b*****d!!!!" he bellowed at the boy, grabbing the unfortunate urchin by the collar. Fearless Francis reacted swiftly - he wet himself.
Now it was not just the wetting of the short trousers. Not so much 'pzzzzz' as 'SKOOSH!' and in copious amounts. Far too much for short trousers to hold, the excess liquid pouring onto the furniture shop floor. The shop owner was so angry at this and threw the wee boy out of the shop. By this time the wee boy's super alter ego had completely left him to fend for himself.
Having being reduced to being a mere mortal and also being reduced to tears, the wee boy still had to go to Paterson's for the tea. So he stood in the queue with the smell of urine very strong. No one said a word to him, he bought the Red Label Brooke Bond tea and had to make the dreaded journey back to his Granny's. This terrified him more than the man in the shop. He had given his Granny a showing up and she would not forgive him.
Luckily, his Granny was a kind woman, although stern with the wee boy for his own good, when he came in and she saw the state of him, she was more concerned than angry, recognising that he was still shaking with fear and shock. She put her arms around him and the wee boy told his story between sobs and floods of tears.
In the comfort of his Granny's arms, the wee boy was beginning to heal. He was safe and secure with the one who loved him. As his Granny caressed him gently, he felt a lot better and soon the fear was gone. His Granny hugged him and rocked him to and fro, her arms enclosing him like a warm safe blanket of love.
Granny would deal with the furniture shop man later.
Part 2 - Granny's Revenge
Grannies are just as protective of their grandchildren as the children's own mothers, even more so. In fact a Granny feels she has nothing to lose by getting 'tore in' to anyone who "hurts a wean" - so woe betide anyone who is foolish enough to invoke a visit from an irate Granny.
The furniture shop man was about to find this out.
The day after the wee boy's traumatic experience at the hands of the furniture shop man, Granny paid the shop a visit.
The man was busy extolling the virtues of an old settee when he noticed the rotund figure of an old lady standing just inside the door of the shop. Thinking nothing more of it, he returned to his customers, a middle-aged couple who had more money than sense and who were almost ready to buy the settee, which had probably been retrieved from a dump by the furniture shop man.
"Haw - Yoo!!!", the Granny's voice boomed into the shop, "Ah waant a wurd!"
The man replied irritably, "Aye, later ya auld bag, Ah'm busy."
Turning back into the street, the Granny said, "Whit did he say?", for she was stone deaf. Milling round the shop door were some neighbours from the close and the wee boy. The Granny had lost no time in telling the neighbours about what happened to her 'poor wee lamb'.
Rolling up her cardigan sleeves and pulling off her scarf, she marched straight into the shop, right up to the man and jabbed her finger into his chest.
"So ye think yoor a big man threatenin' a wee wean dae ye?", the finger prodding him some more.
The pain of the prodding finger made the man step back. He was just about to give the owner of the finger some verbal abuse when he noticed that his shop was filling up with some very angry-looking women. Recognising the boy, it all fell into place - experience had taught the man that he was 'for it' and that there was nothing else to do but to take what was coming.
The wee boy was getting scared; the women were swarming all over the place, pushing him against a wardrobe. There wasn't much room in that small shop. The couple asked to leave and they headed for the door, squeezing past the angry women.
By this time the Granny had built up a full head of steam. Prodding him some more she said, "Yoor lucky Ah've no tolt ma man - He'd shake the shite oot o' ye!", prodding him some more.
If truth be known, the wee boy's Granda was never known as a fighting man and usually left it to 'hur' to sort any trouble out with the grandchildren or the neighbours.
By this time the crowd of women were getting excited and were shouting obscenities at the defenceless man. The Granny's prodding was getting more intense, but the last prod became a fist and she hit him hard on the chest, knocking him backwards over the edge of a settee, making him fall across the seats. This was unintentional on Granny's part, but lucky for him.
"Aw hen, Ah'm really sorry, Ah'll no dae it again, Ah promise - gonnae no hit me!!", the man pleaded, raising his arms up in defence, expecting more blows.
At that, the women's anger turned to laughter, then they mocked him, "Look at yon big feartie, scared o' a wee auld wumman!"
The Granny gave a chilling warning to the frightened man. "If Ah ever hear o' yoo touching any wean in this street, yoo'll answer tae their faithers, and by Christ it'll no be a punch ye'll get next time!"
With honour satisfied, the Granny swaggered towards the door, the women respectfully clearing the way, the wee boy proudly following her. The man sensibly stayed on the couch until everyone had gone.
A few days later, Fearless Francis was back on duty. He had learned that his arch enemy Zantor had landed his spaceship in Orr Street and had plans to steal all the comics out of the bookshop.
With his imaginary costume now changed to red, he embarked on his mission, but first he had to check out the furniture shop across the road. With steely determination he approached the locked door and shook the handle to make sure. He gave the shop the once-over with his x-ray vision - all clear.
The furniture shop had closed. The man had broken into the empty shop a few days ago, fitted new locks.and was using it illegally. The factor had been tipped off, but the man was long gone by the time the factor's men arrived to claim the property back.
Knowing that the world was safe in this street, Fearless Francis set off on his deadly mission a few galaxies away - round the corner in Orr Street. He did not know how many light years he'd be away.
But Granny was making stovies - so he had to be home by six.
Fearless Francis
in
The Graveyard Game
In which our hero fearlessly walks among the dead
Tucked in between a tenement building and Saint Mary's Chapel Priests House in Abercromby Street - was an old graveyard. It had been many a long year since its last occupant was laid to rest there and finally it ended up as a football pitch for Saint Mary's Primary School. Now, even that school has gone, famous for having its playground on the roof, where children were forced to play in all sorts of weather at break time.
St Mary's Church Hall was even more famous. It was here on the 6th of November 1887 that Brother Walfrid, a Marist Priest constituted the Glasgow Celtic Football Club (although Celtic FC proudly proclaim on their emblem that it was in 1888).
The old graveyard was a fascinating place for wee boys, it provided a place to play games - during the day that is. They used to play hide and seek among the gravestones and monuments, and sometimes they were brave enough to hide in the open ditches that they didn't realise at the time were probably robbed graves.
This was a great place for the fertile imagination of Fearless Francis, a wee boy living in a fantasy world when on his own. He and his pals often visited the graveyard during the day, and latterly when it grew dark. So the graveyard held no fears for Fearless Francis.
It wasn't a big graveyard, square in shape with a path that formed a circle around its centre. What was unique about this graveyard was the strange sounds that came from it. Every noise became an echo due to the sound bouncing off the Priests House on one side, and the tenement on the other. Fearless Francis realised that if he hid in a certain spot then screamed, the echoing crescendo would make susceptible victims 'cough their botty', in other words - give them a quick cure for constipation. He may have been guilty of mentally scarring many a wee boy or girl for life with his Graveyard Game.
It all starts with Fearless Francis regaling his pals with stories of ghosts in the graveyard and how it wasn't safe to walk in through one gate and walk out through the other without hearing the screams of dead souls, angry that the walker had woken them up. He would go into great detail about what would happen to someone who didn't move fast enough through the graveyard to the other end.
There was always some wee boy who didn't believe him, so Fearless Francis would challenge the unbeliever to walk through the graveyard when it was dark and Fearless Francis's pals would escort him to the gate and make sure that he WALKED, not ran, down the short path that leads to another gate at the bottom, on his own, the pals watching him from the safety of the gate. Fearless Francis would make an excuse that he couldn't be there that night because he had to visit relatives.
One particular day, Fearless Francis hooked a wee 'hard man' for his Graveyard Game. The wee hard man (age nine) listened to the ghost story and said it was a load of mince. He called Fearless Francis a liar and said that he wasn't feart of walking through the graveyard. So they agreed he would do the walk at 6pm that night in front of witnesses. Being November, it would be very dark - perfect for the Graveyard Game.
That evening, at just about quarter to six, Fearless Francis peeked out the kitchen window and could see his pals set off with his victim, heading towards Forbes Street. He left the house, taking a different route and raced on ahead, reaching the graveyard five minutes before they did.
It was a cold, wet night. The street lights in Abercromby Street cast an eerie amber glow across the graveyard. At the bottom of the graveyard was the primary school and there was a lamp set in its wall - this too, gave off a strange light, enabling Fearless Francis to see the face of anyone who dared walk through the path toward the school. The moon helped to create the atmosphere too, adding more unnatural light.
He settled down in his favourite spot - a ditch behind a large monument where he could see anyone walking down the path, but they could not see him.
He lay in wait.
He could hear voices at the Abercromby Street end of the graveyard, so he prepared himself. He could see the victim clearly. The boy was trying to swagger down the path, his shoulders swinging to and fro in the gallus style. But his face told a different story. He looked straight ahead, concentrating on the exit and although Fearless Francis could not clearly see his eyes, he saw his face - and he was terrified. But, give him his due, the wee hard man walked slowly and determinedly towards the gate.
It was time for Fearless Francis to strike. He was just about to let out a blood-curdling scream - when two cold clammy hands grasped his shoulders from behind and a deep male voice boomed, "WHO DARES DISTURB MY SLUMBER?!"
Fearless Francis let out a REAL blood-curdling scream and flew out of that ditch faster than a curry fart. Clambering over the gravestones, he tripped and sprained his ankle, landing on his backside, his eyes nearly popping out of his head in fear.
The graveyard echoed to the sounds of his pals' laughter - they had set him up. Only Fearless Francis and his intended victim didn't know that one of his pals' big cousins had went into the graveyard minutes before him, and was told where to hide when Fearless Francis came in. His pals' laughter seemed to last for ages, reverberating off the walls, seeming to get louder and louder. Finally, they left Fearless Francis, still sitting on his backside, still very stunned.
Luckily, he had finally mastered the art of bladder control, but the other end was decidedly dodgy. Was he sitting on a damp patch of grass, or.....
Finally, he got up, relieved to find that it was only wet grass. But his left ankle was very sore and swollen and he hobbled down the path in the graveyard. He knew he would never live this down and that he'd be the butt of jokes for a very long time.
But he had a more pressing problem.
He estimated that it would take him at least fifteen minutes to reach Cubie Street at this speed (very slow). Unfortunately he had a liberal amount of mince and totties for his dinner earlier - and mince had a habit of wanting to leave him in a hurry. He felt the familiar deep rumblings from his lower regions and knew that his troubles weren't over yet.
He got home all right - after a visit behind a gravestone, his botty hanging over an open grave.
That was the last time Fearless Francis played the Graveyard Game.
Fearless Francis
in
Gunfight On The Auchenshuggle Express
In which our hero changes his name (briefly) to Fast Francis
The number 9 to Auchenshuggle tramcar trundled its way slowly along Argyle Street. The beam from Its cyclops headlamp made the wet cobblestones glisten and shimmer in the twilight of the winter's evening. The rain had just stopped and the streets of Glasgow seemed to have been scrubbed and cleaned with the fresh rainwater.
Fearless Francis knelt on the long seat of the tram and looked out the window. He was happy and excited. At last his constant nagging to Granny had paid off and he got the toy he had always wanted - a single-shot Derringer gun.
In those days, toy manufacturers endeavoured to make the toy guns look as real as possible. This Derringer was single-barreled, made of metal and painted in silver. The grip had plastic panels, but were made to look like ivory. But what Fearless Francis loved most about this gun, was the time-consuming way it had to be loaded with a small round cap. First, he had to cock the trigger, remove the 'cartridge', separate the bullet from its shell, place the round cap inside the shell, replace the bullet and place the whole cartridge back into the gun, uncocking the trigger.
His imagination was running wild again. Today, he was Fast Francis, the fastest gun in the Calton. His mission, as always, was to rid the world of evildoers. Stretching his fantasy to the limits, he imagined that this was no ordinary gun that he had just loaded - this was a thousand-shooter, and it was capable of shooting a baddie at ANY distance.
Suddenly, a red injun appeared on the platform of the tram. Fast Francis reacted swiftly, pointed his gun at the injun's heart and fired. The poor old lady in the red hat and coat got such a fright that she farted and screamed at the same time. Pandemonium broke out as the conductress shouted at Fast Francis's mother, who in turn was skelping him across the ear. Eventually, everything quietened down and the old lady, with a vaguely unpleasant odour beginning to emanate from her, sat down. Everyone was glaring at Fast Francis, whose only recourse was to continue to daydream, to save his blushes.
The journey through the city centre was slow. Roadworks had closed some streets and traffic was nose to tail. This gave more time for Fast Francis to reload his gun. For now a new danger just boarded the tram. He was a mean-looking hombre who sat facing Fast Francis. Slowly taking his gun out of his pocket, Fast Francis made a big show of loading the cap. He gave the hombre a menacing scowl, to let him know he meant business. The object of his attention, a smartly dressed elderly gentleman, stared back at the little boy, and wondered if the poor kid was demented, or was he just constipated?
Still snarling at the mean hombre, Fast Francis finally loaded the gun, made a show of cocking the trigger, and put it in his coat pocket. His mother told him to get up as it was their stop. Fast Francis got up slowly, still scowling at the hombre. As he slowly walked past the elderly gentleman, the heel of his shoe stood on something of an indeterminate nature, but whose composition made it very slippy. Next thing Fast Francis knew, he was flat on his back on the dirty floor, his head spinning, the gun went POP! in his pocket,, the old lady screamed and farted again, and mother shouted that she'd kill him when they got off the tram. The elderly gentleman helped him up.
When they alighted from the tram, his fiery-tempered mother lost no time and skelped his ear. "You gave me a showing up!", she screamed. He tried not to cry, and looked back at the tram as it began to trundle off. He saw the elderly gentleman looking at him through the tram window. Then the gentleman pointed his finger at Fast Francis, raising his thumb and bringing it down fast, as if to shoot him. Fast Francis reached for his gun, then realised it was empty. His mother was walking quickly down the road. She shouted to him, "C'moan you, get alang the road - NOO!"
Fast Francis decided to adopt the John Wayne persona, and lurched forward in a slow deliberate fashion, lurching first to the right, then the left, trying to emulate the John Wayne walk. To the people standing at the tram stop, it looked as if the wee boy was drunk. He kept looking at the receding tram as he slowly, deliberately turned around, his hands hovering over his imaginary six-shooters, which he had suddenly decided to wear. He head was the last thing to turn around as it came into contact with a lampost. There was a clunking sound, followed by roars of laughter from the onlookers.
He staggered back slightly dazed, saw his mother glare at him in the distance, and decided to get on his horse and ride out of trouble. Slapping his backside and holding imaginary reins, he galluped past the queue at the tram stop, neatly ducked under his mother's swooping hand aimed at his ear, and rode into the sunset of his imaginary world.
More Fearless Francis......soon
