‘Get into twenty-one,’ he says, ‘it’s the key to culture.’
Told him I didn’t want it. Just in our street three women have left their husbands after being on chat-lines, no way was that internet coming in our house. Told him to stick his culture where the sun don’t shine.
Next thing, one of the kids picks it up for nothing, showed me how to download free music and set me up with an email account.
‘Do I have to pay for that?’
‘No,’ they said, ‘we’re on Freeband.
‘Why is that email called an account then?’
‘It just is.’
Now in the twenty-first century, I sends an email to me brother in Brixton, phoned him up just to make sure he got it. I clicks on his reply and it’s instructions to download Skype – some free telephone service. I buys a webcam and a mic; I already had headphones off me hifi. How cool was this I starts talking to our kid for free. After the tours of his room, I stopped using the webcam, didn’t need to see his ugly gob anyway, I know what he looks like.
One Friday I was a few whiskies to the wind, so I phones him, but he wasn’t on-line; next thing this text appears on the screen.
football david beckham good.
It was a message from Abdul, couldn’t pronounce his surname, full of q’s, k’s and l’s, even had a zed in it; the only vowel in the whole thing was a u; three of them, but they didn’t help. Anyway it said football, so I thought, let’s give it a go. I clicks on accept. He’s not only dead loud, I couldn’t understand a word he was saying. Took the headphones off in the end and typed write to me.
Where you, comes his reply.
Liverpool. Where you? He was only in Egypt, how buzzin was this? So I asks, Cairo? he types Alexandria and then asks if I’ve got a webcam.
Sure have, I typed, dead posh me, you know keeping to the Beckham theme.
He wants me to plug it in, so I did and there he was with a headset on, sitting with his feet up behind the counter of some shop in Egypt and there I must have been in ours.
Show ass pls, he typed. I took pls as please but what a strange request. Egypt in my head was like Cleopatra, the Pharaohs, Tutankhamen and pyramids, never expected the Sphinxter to be on the menu.
‘Hang on,’ I said. I goes and gets the grandkid’s ABC books and there under D, I found it. I held it in front of the camera and he takes the knock.
Ass! Ass! Ass! he typed, not donkey.
I knew all along what he meant but yer know I’d had a bevvy.
You mean arse, I typed. He did. That wasn’t a slur on his lack of generosity by the way.
‘Wait there.’ I shows him me finger, ‘una momento.’
Got a pink balloon blew it up and felt-tips a black line down it to look like the crack of an arse, did a few squiggly rogue hair lines, figured he likes them hairy. I goes back to camera, stood in front of it and starts to unbuckled me belt and pull me zip down; he only slides his hand inside this sheet thing he’s wearing. I gets out the way of the camera, drops me kecks and undies and holds this balloon against me arse in the mirror. Checks the alignment’s okay and sidesteps back holding this balloon against me bare arse. I looks over me shoulder to see his face getting bigger and bigger. Thought he was gonna come out me screen. Inquisitive, bewildered, puzzled; they only half describe the etching his face drew. Next thing BANG!!!; the balloon explodes. I get the shock of me life but not like him; he gets it right down his ear-hole; his head shoots back he’s ripping the headset off; and me I’m covering me bare arse waltzing out the way of the camera. Don’t think he saw me, probably coming to terms with the fact that he didn’t get shot after all.
I pulled me jeans up and it was only then I thought what would I have said if the wife or kids had walked in on me.
‘Sorry folks just showing this Arab me arse.’ I’d have got battered.
I sat back at the computer, he wasn’t there. I pulled the webcam out, put the headphones on and that’s when I could have sworn I heard our kid saying ‘goodbye.’ It was muffled but I’m sure it was him. I minimised Abdul and looked to see if he was on-line, he wasn’t so I phones him again, he didn’t answer.
‘I know you’re there,’ I said.
‘I here,’ he replies, friggin Abdul wasn’t it. ‘What happen? That not ass.’
‘Sorry Abdul, I fart.’
‘That loud. Show ass?’
I took the headphones off. I’m shaking me head now thinking who is this geezer? Okay he’s pissed off working in a shop but is that a reason to go globetrotting for arses to look at. I gets on the keyboard.
Never mind show ass, what happened to Beckham in all this?
He cute. masturbate good yes
Very good but only if you’ve got a good hiding place.
Fingers up ass good yes
Fingers up yer arse? I’m well cringing. Very bad, I wrote, fingers up ass very, very bad.
He wants to know Why.
Allah might be watching.
I got the shock of me life, the screen started flashing. DEATH TO TOM in big letters.
I couldn’t believe it. I mean he comes along with his David Beckham chat up line, starts going on about wanking and fingers up yer arse and now he’s jihading me big time. I only wanted to talk to our kid.
So I asks him what’s with the jihadi like?
He says I offend his God.
Offend his God! He’s working in a food shop with his fingers buried up his ring but it’s me who’s offensive. It’s a good job I understand diplomacy. I writes: Look Abdul, you get yerself a good hiding place and Allah doesn’t have to know.
He’s now got it running down me screen. Death to Tom. I wasn’t haven’t it, clicked him off, tried our kid again. Gerry, you there?
I went in the living room, topped me whiskey up came back to download some music.
Five minutes later and the Sphinxter’s back again this time with a new chat up line. He’s asking if I know Mido, an Egyptian footballer who plays for Wigan.
Mido good he play Wigan
Does he work his fingers up his ring? I typed.
He good he play Wigan. Show ass pls.
I told him to go and wash his hands, I mean he’s working in a food shop. At last I found the termination button, one click and he was gone.
I phones our kid again. ‘Gerry, what happened to you?’
‘What d’ya mean what happened to me?’
‘I heard yer talking on the computer about ten minutes ago, then you’d gone.’
‘I ain’t been on the computer today. Ten minutes ago I was buying ka’ak.’
‘Cark? What you doing buying cack?’
‘I don’t expect you to have heard of it, but ka’ak is circular bread-rings. And that’s where I was in our little Egyptian shop on the High Street buying pastries.’
‘Yer didn’t eat them did yer?’
‘Of course I did.’
© Chris Carr 2009