course ae bending o’er, lifting files oot ae their service-issue briefcases. Despite Peacock still wearing his jaicket, The Governor wis shocked and disturbed tae be confronted by the fat cheeks ae his white hairy arse peeking o’er the tap ae his waistband at him. He wis relieved when Peacock eventually lifted his briefcase up oan tae the wee coffee table tae allow him easier access tae its contents. Ye knew ye’d made it in the service when ye wur allowed tae swan aboot wae a briefcase wae ER stamped oan the side ae it, The Governor thought tae himsel bitterly. Thirty three bloody years and aw he hid tae show fur it wis a scabby Parker pen, specifically issued tae aw governors, as standard, tae be used tae triplicate sign fur anything that cost mair than a few measly quid. He’d heard that this pair even hid their ain service expense account as well. The Governor wondered whit wis gaun oan. Thomas Peacock wisnae supposed tae be visiting Longriggend, bit hid goat that secretary ae his…the wan wae the skelly eyes and two different shaped paps…tae phone and inform The Governor that, seeing as Jack Broon wis heiding his way, then Thomas wid come alang fur the ride. The Governor quite liked Jack, even though he wis a bit ae a tosser and an arse-licker tae boot. The planned meeting wae Jack wis tae discuss the situation that George Crawford, the governor doon in Dumfries Young Offenders Institution, hid found himsel in. Although there wis nae chance ae a strike, the issue still hidnae been resolved and events oan the ground hid been developing faster than a tinker chasing a bent broon penny doon a steep, cobbled hill. He looked across at the fat lawyer, the weight ae whose arse wis forcing the broon plastic-coated seat springs and cushion through the bottom ae his good chair and wis noo practically touching the carpet. He didnae believe that Peacock’s arrival wae Jack hidnae been pre-planned beforehaun. He’d need tae go caw-canny and be oan his guard. They lawyer types fae The Department invented the expression ‘the pen is mightier than the sword’ and wurnae shy in putting it intae practice either. Murray Birnie, the ex-governor ae Peterheid, hid goat his hee-haws entangled wae wan ae Peacock’s sidekicks and hid last been heard ae scratching a living as a so-called security consultant wae Mieklejohn’s Dairy doon in Saltcoats. Pat Wright, the Assistant Governor across in Polmont, hid telt Angus recently that this wis a heap ae shite and that Murray hid actually been clocked wandering aboot oan the other side ae the fence ae the dairy wan night, wae a security guard’s uniform oan, carrying a torch, mumbling tae himsel. Whitever the truth wis, he’d need tae tread very carefully. He wisnae a bitter person, bit it hidnae taken him long tae realise his mistake, soon efter ducking and diving tae get himsel elected as the General Secretary ae the Prison Governors’ Association. He’d goat it oan his sixth attempt. Although he’d heard the General Secretary’s job being referred tae as a poisoned chalice, he’d stupidly dismissed that idiom as sour grapes, coming fae those who’d put themsels forward, bit who’d failed tae get the required vote. Christ, he’d even been quoted as using that wan himsel, efter breaking the previous record fur the maist unsuccessful attempts at staunin fur the post. It hid been the highlight ae his career tae date, when he’d eventually been elected. He’d been oan cloud nine fur at least five minutes. Noo, the initial sweet taste ae recognition and confidence fae his peers tasted like a pishy pair ae sodden knickers. Within weeks ae being elected, Peterheid Prison hid erupted and hid rarely been oot ae the heidlines since. A wee group ae cons, serving long-term prison sentences, hid been continually wrecking the fabric ae the building and assaulting staff, some tae their severe injury. Tae make matters worse, even the
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