Mickey Braddock’s Works Do & other stories
Graham Wilson
“It was coming up to Christmas and the bar of the King Bill was between shifts. The debris of the property speculators was settling in the lag end of the late afternoon and those who worked for a living had yet to arrive. In the midst of this vacuum stood, or rather leant, Mickey Braddock, smoking a large cigar still encased in its foil band. I didn't know Mickey particularly well at that time but there are certain rituals that have to be followed.
Hello, Mickey. What are you up to?
What are you up to?
I am on my works do.
But I thought you were self–employed.
I am.
So, you're on a works do by yourself?
Yes.
This seemed something of a conversation stopper and I was vaguely trying to remember whether he was interested in football, when he continued:
I have a theory about this. Most people, generally speaking, who go on a works do, do it with the people they work with. Right?
I nodded at what appeared from any angle impeccable logic.
Well, I go on my works do with people (at this point an all–embracing gesture to include whoever might be present) I don’t work with.
I thought it would be tactless to point out that, given his terms of employment, he had little choice in the matter but, it being inter alia the season of goodwill, felt I should make some contribution that might encourage.
So, that's your theory, eh?””
Hello, Mickey. What are you up to?
What are you up to?
I am on my works do.
But I thought you were self–employed.
I am.
So, you're on a works do by yourself?
Yes.
This seemed something of a conversation stopper and I was vaguely trying to remember whether he was interested in football, when he continued:
I have a theory about this. Most people, generally speaking, who go on a works do, do it with the people they work with. Right?
I nodded at what appeared from any angle impeccable logic.
Well, I go on my works do with people (at this point an all–embracing gesture to include whoever might be present) I don’t work with.
I thought it would be tactless to point out that, given his terms of employment, he had little choice in the matter but, it being inter alia the season of goodwill, felt I should make some contribution that might encourage.
So, that's your theory, eh?””
This is the opening to the first of the nine dark and funny short stories which make up Mickey Braddock’s Works Do. Set largely in the pubs of a small northern textile town, they reflect the underbelly of Thatcher’s Britain — a period when the old, straightforward breed of rogue was being replaced by a new, more sinister version.
| cover | hardback | |
| dimensions | 170x120mm, 150 pp | |
| price | £10.95 (list) | £9.50 (website) |
| ISBN | 1 902173 04X | |