11. Bob Todd

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Late into the evening in the Salisbury we find Alfie Hoole and Jethro O’Toole deep into their cups. Pledges of “I’m having just one more and getting an Uber” have been made and broken several times. Pool has been played (badly) and the jukey has been fed and the pair have now become exhausted of pound coins.


There are twenty or so customers, some in small groups, some sitting alone. The new temporary barlord, Aleister Crowley is busy polishing glasses and keeping an eye open for approaching customers. He looks through the window and smiles briefly.


The door swings open. The entrance frames a tall figure backlit by street lights. Dressed in a plastic, leather-look jacket, brown corduroy trousers and crepe-soled shoes commonly referred to as ‘brothel creepers’. The visage looks like the devil spawn of an unholy union between Catweazle and Stig of the Dump. This is Bob Todd.


He’s looking ugly but to be fair, rather like a skull can be said to be smiling, he has little choice in the matter. People politely avoid the subject of gargoyles whenever he is around.


He steps forward into the room; small flakes of dandruff fall to his shoulders as he removes his fedora. He spots a familiar face.


“Hi Jethro, didn’t expect you to still be here” he says. “Who’s your mate?”


“Oh, hello Bob” Replies Jethro. “This is Alfie, he comes in here all the time.” 


  Introductions are made; hands are shaken. Beer is served and payment is made.


“How do you know Jethro” Alfie politely enquires.


“We work together at the council, it’s going really well, we’re as busy as bees I can tell you.” Says Bob, completely unaware of Jethro’s future employment worries. “Yeah, Manchester bees, gotta be on point with the new council marketing directives”.


Alfie dies a little inside.


“How come you are in here so late?” Jethro asks Bob.


“Just been over to The Midnight Club, had a great time, the women there are beautiful”.


Jethro looks away, slightly embarrassed.


“Go on then, what’s the Midnight Club?” asks Alfie.


Jethro excuses himself citing an urgent need to visit the facilities.


“It’s a fantasy brothel, it’s around the back of the old church, just off Emmeline Pankhurst Street. You know, near the old docks area”.


“I know the area; can’t say I know the place though. A ‘fantasy’ brothel … as opposed to the regular sort?”


“Yeah, you get to dress up in anything you like, cosplaying and everything. The women are beautiful, they’ll do anything you know” smiled Bob.


“Wouldn’t say I know from experience” Alfie coughed, “But I expect that industry is something of an example of one that has flexible working practices”. “What did you dress up as?”


“I came as myself,” said Bob. “I only go there for the sex to be honest, the women there are beautiful”. He makes a rounded shape with his hands. Alfie cringes inwardly.


“Hmm, quite,” mumbled Alfie wondering how he got into this conversation in the first place. A couple of minutes ago he had never met Bob Todd, now he knows more about him than many good friends know about each other. He rolls his eyes towards the returning Jethro and does that eye look in the direction of Bob that silently says, ‘Who’s this clown?’.


Alfie orders another round for himself and Jethro, Bob declined the offer saying it is only a flying visit. He hands his discount card to Aleister Crowley and proffered payment.


“What’s that card?” asks Bob.


“I get 10% off as a regular customer,” beamed Alfie proudly, “It’s like the CAMRA or gig goers discount they offer, but it’s permanent”.


“Funnily enough, I have a discount card for The Midnight Club,” says Bob giddily. “Similar reason as for yours, I’m what they call a frequent flyer”.


Alfie looks at Jethro, Jethro looks at Alfie.


“How come you go to this club so often… Bob? Are you single without a girlfriend or anything?” 


“I’ve never been married and don’t have a lot of luck with women outside, not the ones I used to follow… I mean approach”. Bob corrected his Freudian slip. “The women there are beautiful you know”,


“Maybe you should go and get a new haircut,” offered Alfie. “Some new clothes maybe, just a bit smarter, there’s a great new shop called Odds Bodkins in the Northern Quarter, they’ll sort you out”.


“Yeah, thanks for that, might have a look in there before I go to The Midnight Club tomorrow”. And with that Bob drained his glass, bid the patrons a good night and disappeared off towards the bus stop.


“Do you think I should have mentioned he should use deodorant?” Alfie asked Jethro. “Or would he take that the wrong way do you think?”


“He’d be better off just talking to them rather than staring at them from a distance is what I think” muttered Jethro. 


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