Two Faced (Harry Tyler Book 2) Read Online Free PDF

Ronnie replied. ‘See that fat gut-bucket over there, with a neck like a packet of hot-dog sausages?’ He indicated a thirty-stone man in his fifties. ‘Bottomless Pete we call him, ’cos he never stops eating. Well, yesterday he comes over and tells me he thinks he’s got hand grenades.’
    ‘Eh?’ said Harry.
    ‘AIDS, boy, do keep up.’
    ‘I thought that made you lose weight,’ smirked Potman. ‘He’s fatter than I am.’
    ‘Maybe he ain’t had it long,’ said Harry. ‘Is he a mate of yours, Ron?’
    ‘Is he fuck, miserable bleeder. He used to do a bit of business in the yard. Don’t let him see us looking over at him and laughing or all hell will go off. He ain’t the sort of bloke you can have a laugh with. He thinks badinage is an Elastoplast, know what I mean?’
    Ronnie shook his head. ‘I’ll never forget, one time he was bending me ear about how he needed to sort himself out a social life, so I put him on to this fella who gets him into a social club down in Dartford near where he lives. Anyway, they have this weekend away at some holiday camp up at Camber Sands or somewhere, you know, a comedy weekend for husbands and wives, no kids. But Bottomless leaves his missus at home and afterward he’s telling me how he’s having a pint at the bar on his Jack ’cos no fucker is talking to him and as he’s gone for a Jimmy the comedian on stage starts coating him off, does a load of fat jokes at his expense, y’know? “Keep clear of the beach, mate, or Greenpeace will cordon you off. Look at the size of him, he’s so fat he bumps into people when he’s sitting down. When he goes to a restaurant he doesn’t get a menu, he gets an estimate.” All the old fanny. So Bottomless stops in his tracks, looks at the comedian and says, “You taking the piss out of me?” and the comedian comes back with, “Fuck me, well spotted. When your IQ hits fifty make sure you sell.” The audience is in stitches, so the comic keeps going. “Only joking, mate,” he says. “I know you’ve got an open mind – I can feel the draft from here.” The audience is creasing up. Well, Bottomless walks up on stage, picks the fella up over his head, walks over to a window and hurls him out. I asked him if it was open and he said, “Does it matter, Ron?” He kills me! So then he’s gone for his slash and when he gets back all the camp security boys are there, with a deputation from the committee. Long and short of it, they tell him he’s got to go home. They follow him to his chalet, he gets packed and they point him out of the gates towards the nearest railway station. And here’s what he says to me:“You know what, Ronnie? They never even offered me a lift to the station. What kind of social club is that?”’
    Ronnie’s appreciative audience roared. ‘He asked me once if he could borrow my new Merc. He had this seventeen-year-old bit of stray on the firm and wanted to give it Billy Big Potatoes. So he’s taken it out, wined it and dined it – I had to tell him what to order. Next day, he’s brought the motor back looking all forlorn. Topped up he’s ended up in the fields at the top of her road, in the back seat of my motor, and he’s thought, “I’ve gotta sniff it first,” so he gets down there and she had the littlest panties he’d ever chewed on. He only went and swallowed ’em! He had constipation for three days, and when he give her one he said her eyes went like Nookie Bear!’
    Potman exploded.
    ‘He must have gone on top then,’ observed Noodles.
    ‘So how come he thinks he’s got AIDS?’ asked Harry.
    ‘He’s getting funny old dizzy spells and all the fellas in his local are winding him up saying it’s the first sign. ’Cos they know he’s covered in tattoos – he’s got a spider on his bell-end with a cobweb over his nuts, and on his arse he’s got a bulldog on each cheek with a snake disappearing down the old brass eye. So now they’re asking questions about how clean is the