I called in to see The Auld Yin the other day. To describe him merely as my dad is to grossly understate his role. More Mr Miyagi to my Daniel-san, more Obi wan Kenobi to my Luke Skywalker, you might say. Variously, he also dons the robes of Inquisitor-in-Chief, therapist, prosecuting attorney, defence counsel (as our colonial cousins would spell it), bête noire, thorn in the side, pain in the arse, friend, bastion of support, harshest critic and too many more to mention.
Although most of us, I’m sure, feel our Fathers are special, unique even, he really is. I say that with no misty-eyed sentiment, simply a sober acknowledgment of the reality. Trust me; definitely one of a kind. Oh boy, you have absolutely no idea…
When we engage in one of our over-heated debates things only ever end up in one of two ways. We find common ground and relieve mutual stress by sharing rants regarding our current irritants and part feeling happier, less burdened, less stressed or, more likely, we piss each other off to the point of fury. Me, as he describes it, with my “Namby-pamby, bleeding-heart, limp-wristed, do-gooder liberalism” and he, as I describe it, with his “Cave-dwelling, knuckle-dragging, reactionary prejudice”.
In the interests of fairness, though, I do have to point out that his politics cannot be so easily and pithily labelled, as I may have mistakenly implied. On the one hand he is an avowed and fervent republican, has strong working class instincts and, usually, is a committed champion of the underdog. All this, of course, sits easily and comfortably in that location commonly referred to as ‘left wing’. On other issues, however, he is a mystifying amalgam of convictions that would have any self-respecting lefty screaming in horror. I have been that soldier.
Take women’s emancipation, as an illustrative example. The Auld Yin feels the decline in western civilisation can be dated to the very second the first person in possession of a vagina was allowed into a public bar. Indeed it came as something of a shock to him, I suspect, to realise that people with vaginas are, in fact, actually people.
On the question of law and order and crime and punishment, his views simply defy attempts to categorise them using conventional political terminology. Perhaps the best way for me to convey this is to ask you to imagine a space three or four light years to the right of Alf Garnett, passing the place occupied previously only by Attila the Hun and Genghis Khan, and you’d be getting reasonably close to the right ball park. Maybe.
And so to the day in question; I found him simmering with rage, his daily newspaper a hopelessly crushed ball of rain forest clenched between his whitened, quivering fingers.
“Here!” he spat venomously, hurling the offending periodical in my direction, “take a look at that!”
Several minutes of unfolding, uncreasing and uncrumpling followed whereupon I was able to discern the roots of his rage.
“Benefit cheats and scroungers cost UK tax payers 1.5 Billion per year,” the headline thundered.
“It makes me sick!” he roared.”You work all your bloody days, leading an honest life, being a good citizen only for scum like that to sit with their bloody hands out and enjoy a life of plenty!”
I couldn’t be arsed to get into that one again so I simply made non-committal noises.
“And I’ll tell you another thing; if that had been me working a wee fiddle, I’d have been caught instantly, knowing my piggin’ luck, while the real crooks get off scot free!”
The tirade moved relentlessly along. When The Auld Yin hits his stride he transcends mere ranting. He becomes a force of nature and the only course of action available is to batten down one’s hatches and wait for it to pass.
He then moved from the general to one individual in particular.
“Nothing but a bloody parasite, him. A scrounging waste of humanity who takes up valuable oxygen. Christ Almighty, while the rest of us need to be in our beds at a respectable hour because we’re up at the crack of dawn to earn an honest wage what’s he doing?”
As you may have guessed, no answer was required.
“I’ll tell you what; he’s out on the lash, getting smashed out of his worthless skull on booze which we, the poor, bloody taxpayers have paid for and then ends up vandalising someone else’s property and brawling in the streets like the loathsome yob he is!”
Perhaps predictably, The Auld Yin moved onto the parents of the scrounger in question.
“Mind you, look at his flaming parents. She was no’ but an idle slut, gallivanting all over the place with one bloke after another, dumping the kids with anyone that’d have them, while that spineless wreck of a father, if he even is the father, has never known a proper days work either. Is it any wonder the bairn’s turned out like he has with that pair for an example?”
“Oh….I thought he’d joined the army or something and calmed down a bit?” I ventured.
“Oh aye!” sneered The Auld Yin, sarcastically “Oh aye. And that’ll be right. I’ll grant you that was the theory; was a belter of an idea but only in theory.”
I failed to see why the practice need differ so wildly from the theory.
“For Christ’s sake, lad, do you live all your days with your bloody head up yer arse? Do you? Eh? You must do otherwise you’d know nothing will change him. He’ll do exactly what the bloody hell he feels like, when he feels like doing it, while we foot the bill”
We all dislike some people, sure. I get that; but my Dad really loathes Prince Harry…