guaranteed.’
‘But she wants to keep up with her sport,’ Debbie said. ‘Three science A levels is a lot of homework. It doesn’t leave her a lot of time for herself. She could be a PE teacher no bother.’
Dennis snorted. ‘A teacher? You’ve got to be joking! Have you seen the way other people’s kids are today? You only go into teaching these days if you can’t get anybody else to give you a job!’
‘What does Christie want to do?’ I cut in mildly as I dumped the coffees in front of us.
Dennis grinned. ‘What’s that got to do with it?’ He was only half joking. ‘Anyway, never mind all this bollocks. No point us talking to each other when we’ve got entertainment on tap, is there, Debs? Tell us what you’ve been up to, Kate.’
Debbie sighed. She’d been married to Dennis too long to be bothered arguing, but it was clear that Christie’s future was occupying all of her spare synapses. As Dennis turned the headlamp glare of his sparkling eyes on me, I could sense her going off the air and retreating into herself. Suited me, heartless bastard that I am. I didn’t mind that Debbie was out of the conversation. That way I could get to the point without having to explain every second sentence. So I gave Dennis a blow-by-blow account of my aborted attempt to nail the gravestone scammers as a warm-up to asking for his help.
He loved the tale, I could tell. Especially the bit where Richard walked through the door with the takeaway and the Celtic cartoon characters. It was a short step from there to outlining Dan Druff’s problems with the saboteurs. Dennis sat back again, linking his hands behind his chair with the expansive air of a man who knows his supplicant has come to the right place.
‘Flyposting, isn’t it?’ he said as if delivering a profound pronouncement.
‘Well, yeah, that’s one of the problems they’ve been having,’ I said, wondering if his spell behind bars was blunting Dennis’s edge. I had already explained that the Scabby Heided Bairns’s posters had been covered up by other people’s.
‘No, that’s what it’s all about,’ he said impatiently. ‘This whole thing is about staking out territory in the flyposting game.’
‘You’re going to have to give me a tutorial in this one, Dennis,’ I said. Ain’t too proud to beg, and there are times when that’s what it takes.
Happy that he’d established his superiority despite his temporary absence from the streets, Dennis filled me in. ‘Illegal flyposting is mega business in Manchester. Think about it. Everywhere you go in the city, you see fly posters for bands and events. The city council just don’t bother prosecuting, so it’s a serious business. The way it works is that people stake out their own territory and then they do exclusive deals with particular clubs and bands. The really clever ones set up their own printing businesses and do deals with ticket promoters as well. They’ll do a deal with a club whereby they’ll book bands for them, arrange the publicity and organize the ticket sales at other outlets. So for a band to get on and nail down a record deal, best thing they can do is get tied in with one of the boss operators. That way, they’ll get gigs at the best venues, plenty of poster coverage on prime sites and their tickets get sold by all the key players.’
‘Which costs what?’
Dennis shrugged. ‘A big slice, obviously. But it’s worth it to get noticed.’
‘And you think what’s going on here is something to do with that?’
‘Must be, stands to reason. Looks like your lads have picked the wrong punter to do business with. They’ll have chosen him because he’s cheap, silly bastards. He’s probably some kid trying to break into the market and your band’s getting his kicking.’
I made the circular gesture with my hand that you do in charades when you’re asking the audience to expand on their guesses. ‘Gimme more, Dennis, I’m not seeing daylight yet,’ I
‘But she wants to keep up with her sport,’ Debbie said. ‘Three science A levels is a lot of homework. It doesn’t leave her a lot of time for herself. She could be a PE teacher no bother.’
Dennis snorted. ‘A teacher? You’ve got to be joking! Have you seen the way other people’s kids are today? You only go into teaching these days if you can’t get anybody else to give you a job!’
‘What does Christie want to do?’ I cut in mildly as I dumped the coffees in front of us.
Dennis grinned. ‘What’s that got to do with it?’ He was only half joking. ‘Anyway, never mind all this bollocks. No point us talking to each other when we’ve got entertainment on tap, is there, Debs? Tell us what you’ve been up to, Kate.’
Debbie sighed. She’d been married to Dennis too long to be bothered arguing, but it was clear that Christie’s future was occupying all of her spare synapses. As Dennis turned the headlamp glare of his sparkling eyes on me, I could sense her going off the air and retreating into herself. Suited me, heartless bastard that I am. I didn’t mind that Debbie was out of the conversation. That way I could get to the point without having to explain every second sentence. So I gave Dennis a blow-by-blow account of my aborted attempt to nail the gravestone scammers as a warm-up to asking for his help.
He loved the tale, I could tell. Especially the bit where Richard walked through the door with the takeaway and the Celtic cartoon characters. It was a short step from there to outlining Dan Druff’s problems with the saboteurs. Dennis sat back again, linking his hands behind his chair with the expansive air of a man who knows his supplicant has come to the right place.
‘Flyposting, isn’t it?’ he said as if delivering a profound pronouncement.
‘Well, yeah, that’s one of the problems they’ve been having,’ I said, wondering if his spell behind bars was blunting Dennis’s edge. I had already explained that the Scabby Heided Bairns’s posters had been covered up by other people’s.
‘No, that’s what it’s all about,’ he said impatiently. ‘This whole thing is about staking out territory in the flyposting game.’
‘You’re going to have to give me a tutorial in this one, Dennis,’ I said. Ain’t too proud to beg, and there are times when that’s what it takes.
Happy that he’d established his superiority despite his temporary absence from the streets, Dennis filled me in. ‘Illegal flyposting is mega business in Manchester. Think about it. Everywhere you go in the city, you see fly posters for bands and events. The city council just don’t bother prosecuting, so it’s a serious business. The way it works is that people stake out their own territory and then they do exclusive deals with particular clubs and bands. The really clever ones set up their own printing businesses and do deals with ticket promoters as well. They’ll do a deal with a club whereby they’ll book bands for them, arrange the publicity and organize the ticket sales at other outlets. So for a band to get on and nail down a record deal, best thing they can do is get tied in with one of the boss operators. That way, they’ll get gigs at the best venues, plenty of poster coverage on prime sites and their tickets get sold by all the key players.’
‘Which costs what?’
Dennis shrugged. ‘A big slice, obviously. But it’s worth it to get noticed.’
‘And you think what’s going on here is something to do with that?’
‘Must be, stands to reason. Looks like your lads have picked the wrong punter to do business with. They’ll have chosen him because he’s cheap, silly bastards. He’s probably some kid trying to break into the market and your band’s getting his kicking.’
I made the circular gesture with my hand that you do in charades when you’re asking the audience to expand on their guesses. ‘Gimme more, Dennis, I’m not seeing daylight yet,’ I
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