BARRY Bodgeit shifted under the camouflage net and hissed at the pitbull that had been sitting staring at him for 15 minutes.
“Shoo! Go on, shoo!”
The dog didn’t shoo, it just buried its tongue in its nether regions for a few minutes and then went back to panting all over Barry.
“Can’t you go and chase a stick or something?”
The dog didn’t reply, it just licked his face. Barry adjusted the clipboard and the people counter, on which he was lying, so he could peep out of the camouflage,
Suddenly he heard a yell: “Kruger, get yer mangy ass outta here!”
It was Uncle Joe, shouting in the distance, and both Barry and the dog flattened themselves into the grass and whimpered.
“Go on you good fer nuthin’ mutt!”
Barry’s whimper turned into a full groan moan as Uncle Joe drew closer. He shut his eyes when a football hit the dog square in the head causing it to squeal and run for cover. A moment passed until he felt the football thud into his own head.
“Get yer lazy ass out from under der Barry! We gotta problem!”
Barry thought about feigning death and remaining under the net. He thought about it right up until Uncle Joe kicked him solidly in the ribs.
“I said get out! I can sees yer legs stickin’ out der net, ya bum."
Barry pulled the net down and looked up at Uncle Joe who was dressed as a schoolboy, complete with a felt cap and satchel.
“Uncle Joe, are you okay?” Barry tried to ignore that Uncle Joe was playing keepy uppy with the football, and failing miserably.
“Call me Mister Mayor, ya goddamn cretin, or I’ll bury you under that net once and for all!” Uncle Joe thundered before kicking the ball away again. "Whaddya doin' in there?"
Barry stood up and brushed some of the “hemp” that had been left over from Africa Oye off his suit jacket.
“I was getting the park visitor figures like you....” Barry didn’t finish the sentence.
“I told you ya bum! Dis ain’t no park! You call dis place a park again and you is gonna be sorry! We calls dis da ‘incidental open space’, ya bum,’ or da ‘killin’ fields’! We don’t call it no park. You hearin’ me?”
Barry nodded, picked up his glasses and clipboard again then dabbed at the blood on his nose.
“I thought we were picking up the visitor numbers to the… erm…”
“Go on....” Uncle Joe tilted his head menacingly, and slowly reached for a catapult from his school blazer pocket.
“...Dog shit dump!,” finished Barry. “I thought we were picking up the figures to the dog shit dump!”
Uncle Joe smiled and lowered the catapult. Barry sighed with relief.
“I likes dat: dog shit dump… yeah, I likes that. When you gets back the office ring da Oldham Echo and tell ‘em we got a new name for da Meadows.
"But first take my picture lookin’ sad, and make sure der ain't no people in the background."
Barry followed Uncle Joe across the park to the lake where Barry bought two ice creams and gave them to Uncle Joe.
“Nuts?” Barry asked.
“Yeah, but we needs dem to keep voting.”
Uncle Joe stared at the boating lake. “Maybe we can gets dis lake concreted over. It would make a nice housing estate for people who needs homes, like dem millionaires Sharp Frankie Mac keeps tellin’ me about.”
“But people like the lake Mr Mayor,” said Barry as he brought him a third ice cream. “They like feeding the birds.”
“What birds?”
“Like those two little ducks over there.” Barry pointed.
“Two little ducks! Is you deliberately tryin’ to upset me? You mentionin’ bingo calls to reminds me about dat snotty nosed kid we whacked?”
“No! I didn’t think, I’m sorry!”
Uncle Joe stared long and hard at Barry before he wiped some ice cream off the tip of his nose, chin, left cheek and forehead.
“Awww, listen, Benny…”
“Barry.”
“Yeh, whatever, listen Benny, I’ve been a bit hard on yer, I’m sorry, I shouts at you too much, I know dat.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it ain’t. You just take it, you never says nuthin’.”
“Honestly it’s…”
“Not like these bums.” Uncle Joe pointed a Cornetto at the people on the lake. “Dee’s bums dey moan, dey complain, dey give me earache dey do. I hates ‘em, I hates ‘em all.”
Barry shifted slightly and pushed his glasses up his nose before leaning in close conspiratorially. “As long as we don’t ever let them know that, as long as we never let the cat out the bag, well, we shouldn’t have a problem Mister Mayor.”
“Which brings me to another thing.” replied Uncle Joe, holding up his iPhone. “You see dis twitter thing I got. It's nuthin' but whingeing."
"You're entitled, with all you have to put up with," Barry swooned as he handed him a Fab. "But I still love you, Uncle Joe."
As told to Tony Schumacher and Angie Sammons
