Rusty doesn’t have a girlfriend.
He’s forty four, still lives at home, and he’s converted the garden shed into a little den where he can watch his horror flicks and play on his console.
He loads paper into one end of a print press all day, and takes it out of the other end, when it’s all nice and inky.
Rusty likes to eat biscuits.
He reads Nuts and the Sport.
He used to collect knives, but sold them when people said it was creepy.
He kept his favourites, though.
Rusty had a girlfriend once.
One of the cleaners was a slack-jawed gob-shite called Shaz. Raucous, bottle blonde, mouth always full of gum or bad words.
She’d kept most of the wrapping on her brain – it was in mint condition, almost totally unused – but one corner that she did use was cunning.
She figured that Rusty was a hard worker, had no outgoings, lived simply, and must therefore have a decent looking bank account.
Knives and computer games are a fairly cheap hobby.
He wasn’t likely to wander, because a man who has never had a girlfriend is just going to be grateful.
She started asking Rusty for lifts home from work.
He thought he’d won the lottery.
A romance of kind blossomed, and they agreed to move in together.
Two things happened that should have got his alarm bells ringing.
As soon as he moved in with her and her daughter;
1. She started spending.
2. She went for a hysterectomy.
Rusty was blissfully unaware.
He was in love.
Some of us lads were talking, asking about why Shaz was off sick.
“Our lass has been for a hysterectomy, but there were a few complications” says Rusty.
“What kind of complications?” I asked.
“Well she were just going in for a partial hysterectomy to start with, you know, the one where they just remove the uterine body, but she got a bit of bleeding, so they had to take out the cervix as well. Anyway, they sewed her up and that was that, but she still got a bit of bleeding, so they opened her up again, and it turned out there was something wrong with her fallopian tubes, so they had to remove them n’all, along with her ovaries.”
Silence from the lads.
Jock stood there, shaking his head.
“Fuck me, Rusty,” he says. “Until six months ago, you’d never even seen a fanny. Now you know how to take one apart and put it back together again.”