The Pervert’s Corkscrew
I’ll tell you a tale that always makes me laugh, even though it shows me in a bad light and makes people recognise the evil that was Danny Breslin. It took place at the beginning of my second year at University. As I told you before, I lived in a house with three friends that I met in the first year Halls of Residence: Matt, Jo and Kate.
I moved into the house a few days before the others turned up and one morning the door knocked and stood there was the old fella from next door. He introduced himself and told me that he did the gardening for our landlord and asked would it be ok if he continued to do so? I don’t do gardening so I immediately agreed; if someone else was paying he could weed to his heart’s content. I can’t remember his name but we’ll call him Malcolm for the story’s sake. Now Malcolm was a lovely old man, very soft spoken and polite and a widower who lived alone; unfortunately he looked like the photofit image of every dirty old man that has ever been printed in newspapers. He wasn’t a pervert – he just looked like one!
Kate was the next to move in, and it just happened to be the day Malcolm came around to tend to the garden. Kate saw him out of the window and asked who he was. I told her and at first she was quite pleased, but then I…erm… embellished a little. I told her he was a bit of a peeper (I know – I feel terrible now but if she was going to believe stuff like that then I’d keep playing her up.) I assured her that he wasn’t dangerous but warned her that she shouldn’t hang any underwear on the washing line because he’d be over the fence like an olympic hurdler.
That evening she came down the stairs and told me she had a bottle of wine and asked if I had a corkscrew, I admitted that as I wasn’t much of a wine drinker I didn’t carry one spare. She asked me what she should do. “Well,” says I ”You can’t go to the Maliks, they’re Muslim so they won’t have one.” They were our neighbours on the other side, lovely family, the man of the house sporting a beard like a privet hedge. I once asked him to check his beard because I’d lost my cat, I’m glad he didn’t hear me because he was a big unit! “You’ll have to go and ask Malcolm.” Her eyes widened, filled with the fear I’d put into her about his perverted ways.
“Will you go and ask him for me?”
“Don’t be daft, go yourself, it will be ok.”
“Will you come with me?” A discenable tremor in her voice, she was genuinely scared.
“Oh for God’s sake, come on then.” And off we went.
We walked down his drive and I knocked his door, when the light in the hallway came on I ran off and hid in a bush. “No!” she cried. It was too late for her to escape as he opened the door. I heard with glee that his door creaked as it opened, adding to the terror she felt.
His pink chubby face with little round glasses appeared around the door “Yeeeees?”
“Erm…c-can I-I b-b-borrow a c-corkscrew p-please?” She stammered, visibly shaking.
“Of course,” he said opening the door wider, “Come on in my dear.”
She emitted a mouselike little squeak at which point I was in hysterics, tears running in rivers down my cheeks. I’m surprised that he never noticed the bush at the end of the drive shaking like there was a high wind blowing. When it became obvious that Kate was frozen to the spot and wouldn’t be coming inside he went and fetched the corkscrew. The bush, by then, had stopped shaking because I had made my exit and gone back to our house.
Kate returned to give me the dressing down of a lifetime, Shamefaced and with head bowed I admitted that I had made up his criminal past and promised that I wouldn’t try to fool her again. She didn’t see my fingers crossed behind my back thus releasing me from my oath and giving me free reign to play more dastardly tricks. More will be revealed soon.