Snackbox Diaries is delighted to present a WORLD EXCLUSIVE: A rare insight into the life of a modern day crimefighter.
A crimefighter by the name of Paul Williams.
Who keeps an eye on the bad guys? He does, stupid.
KEY EXTRACT FROM PAUL'S DIARY, DATED MONDAY, JANUARY 22
It's 7am. Normal people can sleep on, I can't. I open my eyes, say "Let's do some good" and swing my feet out of bed. Immediately I step on an upturned plug. I hop around a bit, swearing and making "hoo-haa" noises. That's when I spot my spouse, my LIFE PARTNER doing a pretty poor job at stifling her giggles. So I grab up the plug and give her an emotional "THESE BASTARD PLUGS WON'T STOP ME FROM DOIN' MY JOB" speech. Catty bitch goes into the bathroom before I can finish. Another day in your ivory tower, baby. If only you could spend a day in my shoes.
I head out to the bus stop. People raise their eyes when they see me coming. People who don't have to worry about reaching into their pocket for their mobile phone and finding a stick of fucking dynamite. The bus pulls into the stop. I tell the driver who I am, and together we conduct a thorough sweep of the vehicle. It's clean.
I get off on Dame Street. I walk into O'Briens and say "Hello Bridie" to the Lithuanian chick behind the counter. She mumbles something in return; I dismiss it with my trademark smile and wave of the hand. She knows I want a cappuccino and a scone. Man, the bread in O'Briens is really fucking thick.
I watch them going by. Tens, hundreds, thousands of them. Making their way blindly around the cancer that's eating away at this city like...a fat hungry kid in a gingerbread jail cell. And that's when I see him. Across the street. He's just walked into that shop right now, picked up a packet of crisps and walked out. No fear. Not even a backwards glance. Who the fuck is this guy? I leave my scone half-eaten and catch up with him.
"Hey", I say, "How's your cock?".
It relaxes them. They spot the face and think "I'm pinched" but you say "How's your cock?" and they think "It's cool. He's cool."
"How's fookin' yours!", he says, "You're yer man...Paul Reynolds the crime fella".
I let the sting of the surname pass. I'm in.
"Listen lad, I'm hungover to fuck, I'm headin' for an all-day in Bewleys and I don't eat alone", I say.
"If you're sponsorin'...", he says.
"I fuckin' well am", I say, laughing.
I don't like the language, but I'm not Paul Williams now. I'm him. I'm the Watcher.
We both take our seats in front of cholesterol-a-gogo.
"So, big man", I say, "What's your story? How does a youngfella like you saunter into a centra and saunter out with a packet of crinkle-cut cheese'n'onion and not a penny down?"
"Ah, yeh saw that? Sure don't tell me you don't do the same yerself, man. That place is a fookin' rip-off."
"And you're not afraid of getting caught?"
"Nah, they only ever employ the worst kinda stupid bastards on security there. You could walk out with the fookin' freezer and they wouldn't think to stop yeh."
"Fair play. What do you do?"
"Apprentice electrician. Work with a right ol' bollicks, so I do."
"So you head in, case the place up, do all the electrics and your boss finishes the job?"
"Yeah, pretty much. Pays the bills."
"And you live at home?"
"Yeah, with me Ma and three sisters. Da fooked off years ago."
"Right, right. Sure listen, there's me phone. I better scram. Good talkin' to you."
"Yeah sure, right. Thanks for the breakfast."
ONE WEEK LATER
TWO WEEKS LATER
Pat: "So Paul. Veronica Guerin, of course, was callously gunned down by a callous gang of hoodlums...who gunned her down as she...tried to gun her car into first gear. Do you ever feel the gun of hoodlumism breathing down your neck?"
Paul: "Ah, Pat. You don't know the half of it. Last Sunday-" [Paul places one leg over the other to show how at ease he is with frank discussions on the criminal underworld] "-I wrote a piece in the Sunday World about the Crinkler. This is a young man, Pat, no more than eighteen years of age and already he's lined up to be the next major kingpin of the Dublin criminal world."
Pat: "Eighteen years of age. My God-" [Pat waves his hand about in an attempt to convey how inadequate he feels] "-at that age, I was still in short pants getting chased up country lanes by my uncle."
Paul [narrowing his eyes for emphasis]: "Eighteen-years-of-age. This guy, heh-" [Paul chuckles to show how much at ease he is with the subject] "-I actually spotted him about a fortnight ago robbing a shop in town. Cool as you like, he walks in and walks out with the goods. The girls behind the counter couldn't even speak to the Gardai, he had them that frightened. One of them tried to fly home to Warsaw on Wednesday, but she's still unable to talk, so they couldn't let her through customs. Out of pure fear. Sure, one of my sources tells me that the people who sell the Metro and the Herald don't take any money off him. Fear, Pat. That's what he cultivates."
Pat: "And...and why do they call him the crinkler?"
Paul: "Apparently he likes crinkle-cut crisps. Isn't it mad?"
Pat: "It sure is!" [snort] "Imagine that! A criminal...who eats crisps."
Paul: "Oh it's funny now, but if you ever laughed at this youngfella...well, he'd drop his crisps and pick up a chainsaw. That's how ruthless these bastards are, Pat. That's the next generation of scumbag coming up that I've got to try and put a stop to."
Pat: "My God. It's not easy Paul, but all we can do is give you our thanks for continuing in your uphill battle against the odds."
Paul: "Not at all-" [exaggerated shake of the head] "-it's just a job Pat, like any other."
Pat: "Paul Williams, ladies and gentlemen."
[thunderous applause]
Comments (17)
Bravo! Willums himself would be proud of such a fine piece of investigative journalism.
Posted by insomniac | January 26, 2007 8:49 AM
Posted on January 26, 2007 08:49
Your genius is criminal. I mean that in a good way.
Posted by Slaphead | January 26, 2007 8:55 AM
Posted on January 26, 2007 08:55
Brilliant stuff!
Posted by The Gurrier | January 26, 2007 9:30 AM
Posted on January 26, 2007 09:30
Than you Paul, thank you so much. I've been too terrified to leave the house since I read your book "Criminals and the criminal criminals who criminalise them". I went out to my first Saint Vincient DePaul meeting in 14 years on thursday and I was murdered while waiting for the 130 bus. Murdered Paul, can you believe it.
I called Joe Duffy to complain but I'd have blead to death before I got a word in with that git.
Gerry Ryan kept asking me was I wearing a bra. But you Paul, you're the true protector of our freedom.
Posted by Mary from Clontarf | January 26, 2007 10:21 AM
Posted on January 26, 2007 10:21
Pure Genius.
Posted by Wage Slave 0001 | January 26, 2007 10:24 AM
Posted on January 26, 2007 10:24
Not half bad!
Posted by Zeno | January 26, 2007 10:25 AM
Posted on January 26, 2007 10:25
Brutal. Incisive.
Posted by hudson | January 26, 2007 12:15 PM
Posted on January 26, 2007 12:15
->Notch->Notch
Posted by Dermot | January 26, 2007 2:31 PM
Posted on January 26, 2007 14:31
Tops... Mike Hammer lives!!
Posted by Drifter Tit | January 26, 2007 3:16 PM
Posted on January 26, 2007 15:16
Brilliant, Murti are the nominations still open
Posted by Snarf | January 26, 2007 3:44 PM
Posted on January 26, 2007 15:44
Love it.
Posted by Your Mammy | January 26, 2007 6:35 PM
Posted on January 26, 2007 18:35
Frighteningly good.
Posted by Drifter | January 29, 2007 3:32 PM
Posted on January 29, 2007 15:32
Funny Sh*t
Posted by Martin Cahill | January 30, 2007 7:52 PM
Posted on January 30, 2007 19:52
Classic - any chance of a follow up expose, detailing on the sources of Master Williams' wonderful crime crimes?
Posted by Goldrapper | February 2, 2007 2:01 PM
Posted on February 2, 2007 14:01
We need JK Rowling to come in here and kill off at least 2 of the key players here. Starting with Nat King Rubbishslaw. Or, failing that, the internet.
Posted by Knobbie | February 2, 2007 2:59 PM
Posted on February 2, 2007 14:59
I sleep easier at night in the knowledge that Paul is out there defending me.
Posted by Bock the Robber | February 4, 2007 12:17 AM
Posted on February 4, 2007 00:17
We need some more info man. Keep up the fight. Cos Paul to the Reynolds ain't gonna do it. What a fuckin loser..
Posted by LosStallionPumpido | March 7, 2007 1:33 AM
Posted on March 7, 2007 01:33