Davo's Little Something Read Free Page B

worry about that.’ Davo trimmed the ends of the rolled brisket then hung it up on the rail putting a little square of grease-proof paper over each end to stop them from drying out.
    â€˜But just think how it would sound, Kath.’ Davo dropped his voice to try and sound like a radio announcer. ‘And here’s tonight’s What’s On. We just rang Revesby Workers Club and they said Far Queue. Or, At Salinas tonight—it’s Men at Work and Far Queue too. And that ends tonight’s What’s On. Far out and Far Queue. What do you reckon Kath?’
    â€˜Yeah, t’riffic, Davo. I’ll put it to the boys tomorrow night.’
    â€˜Ask them if they want a new lead singer too. I don’t mind punking up my hair. I’ll even stop washing for a couple of months.’
    â€˜Davo, you can’t even talk in key let alone sing.’
    Davo was about to say something when Krystina turned around from the window, a half smile on her face. ‘Davo, your girlfriend’s outside. Mrs Finniecome.’
    Davo looked up from what he was doing out into the supermarket where a short, stocky, fairly old lady wearing thicklensed glasses and a light blue twin-set, was standing in front of the display cabinet, holding a packet of meat up in the air. She caught Davo’s eye as best she could through her Cokebottle glasses and smiled.
    Although all the cuts of meat were pre-packed, it was store policy that if any customer should want a special cut, like a wing-rib or a crown-roast or something boned out, all they had to do was get the girl to ask one of the butchers and they would be only too happy to do it; so they made out. Davo generally got all the public relations jobs. Not because he wanted them, but Len was always too busy, Dennis was still only an apprentice and Eddie used to frighten all the old women with his sinister-looking tattoos. There were only a few women who asked for special orders and after a while Davo got to know all of them and they all thought he was lovely. Mrs Finniecome’s specialty was getting a kilogram of chuck steak run through the mincer.
    Davo caught the old lady’s eye through the window and smiled back pleasantly. ‘Hello, you dirty miserable old shit,’ he called out. ‘How are you?’ Krystina’s cheeks coloured and Kathy put her head down, trying not to laugh. Mrs Finniecome, not being able to hear Davo through the plate glass window, smiled back enthusiastically. Davo pointed to the packet of meat in her hand. ‘Do you want me to come out there and shove that meat right up your smelly old arse do you?’ The woman nodded her head and smiled back happily. ‘Righto, Kathy. Go out and get it off the old dratsab will you.’
    Kathy went out and got the chuck steak off the woman. ‘She wants it through the hamburger plate too,’ she said, handing it to Davo.
    Davo waved the packet of meat at Mrs Finniecome and smiled again. ‘Would you like me to drop my balls in with it too?’ The old woman, thinking he said hamburger-plate, smiled and nodded back. ‘Righto teenuck-head.’
    Davo, like most shop butchers, had a habit of saying different words backwards. It was an old code butchers used whereby they could say things in front of customers and the customers would be none the wiser. For example, if something wasn’t fresh, they would say ‘it’s deelo’, old backwards. If it was completely rotten and crawling with maggots, it was ‘on doog—luff of toggams’. Likewise, ‘ni the moor’ meant in the fridge. ‘Ni the wodnee’ was in the window. ‘Luff of sipp’ full of piss. ‘Dratsab, teenuck, teg kaycufed’ etc, etc.
    Davo cut through the carton of chuck with his boning knife, sliced it up a bit smaller on the block, then ran it through the mincer, putting it back in a fresh carton for the girls to price and reseal.
    â€˜There you