A Day in the Life of a Cathouse Mog

10:30am Sunday
Gary slowly comes to, half dressed and shivering on the edge of a filthy couch also occupied by a fat naked guy who’s lying face down with his head buried in cushions. He picks and eats the sleep from the corners of his eyes as he tries to remember who's flat it is and where it is. It does seem vaguely familiar with its smeared grubby pastel pink walls and blue ceiling. Its a high rise housing authority building, which is apparent from the low ceiling and flimsy cheap door, also painted pink, with holes knocked through.
He peels his sticky arse off the sticky couch, pulls his dirty, red and black plaid trousers up his scrawny legs and picks his way through the strewn clothes, discarded takeaways and cans to the kitchen. He finds a packet of honey-nut flakes but there is only a putrid dribble of milk there. He eats the cereal dry, takes a shit in the toilet and leaves the flat. He doesn’t try to figure out who he has just spent the night with and by the feel of his arse, been fucked by. He's not interested in who it is really. He was fat and smelt bad anyway.
10:50
Emerging at the bottom of the block, he looks about and figures that he's in Nightswood, quite far from his usual territory. He shrugs and resigns himself to the long walk down Great Western Road through the city centre and on down to Shawlands where he has an afternoon church talk by a visiting American pastor to attend. As he reaches Anniesland the sky opens up and the drizzle becomes rain. He trudges on, head down, trying to ignore the stinging cold of the raindrops.
11:40
Later reaching Kelvinbridge the rain intensifies to a proper downpour and although already soaked through he takes a break in the entrance to the subway station. He is there a couple of minutes when who should walk up but Stevie, one of the many apples of Gary’s eye, but probably one of the most strongly desired. A handsome regular at the Cathouse nightclub, he had allowed Gary to suck his dick once when he was shitfaced at a party, but maintains he only does girls, although Gary has heard otherwise. 'Hi Gary whatsup!? This is Becky by the way.'
Gary grins and acknowledges the pretty, blue haired girl despite the stab that this inflicts his faint hopes that he might win Stevie over with his meagre offerings.
'What you up to today then Stevie? You going to the Cat House?' asks Gary trying to hide his ardour.
'Na mate.' Stevie says changing his tone as though he is giving Gary some disappointing news 'Just looking for a place for me an Becky today. Then We've to go to Becky's sisters birthday party. Wanna chip?'
Gary takes a chip with dab of ketchup.
'Actually have them all Gary.' Stevie hands them to Gary who greedily accepts. 'Y'know its Becky's fantasy to see me fuck a guy in front of her if you're interested Gary?' he says with a sly smile.
Becky hits him. 'Shut the fuck up!!' Gary is obviously not who she had in mind.
'Anyway we've to go up to see this flat now. See ya later mate.'
'See ya Stevie!' He wanders back out into the heavy rain oblivious to it now, aroused by the suggestion of Stevie fucking him. On his way through the city centre he bumps into various Cathouse regulars who will be out tonight. Everyone he knows is out on a “Skint Sunday” with free snapfax entry and a pound a vodka.
13:20
He reaches the Destiny Church on Pollokshaws Road after a miserable long tramp through the wet Southside being splashed by the odd passing bus. He is welcomed at the door by the Pastor's wife, who looks concerned.
'Oh you poor dear! Have you walked all the way here in the rain?' She leads him through the back, sits him down and fetches a towel and a cup of tea. Gary appreciates the fuss that’s made of him here and he quickly recovers enough to make straight for the lunch buffet they have laid out. He piles his paper plate high and is soon speaking to the church worthies. They ask him how his week has been and what he has been doing. He gives them an account of his week between mouthfuls of roasties and chipolatas, leaving out what he thinks would disturb them and embellishing it with details of hardship and tales woe and perseverance that he thinks will solicit more sympathy and charity.
His main benefactor, the aged Miss Allen, he's been told was too ill to attend today, so noting that people have started taking seats for the afternoon's speeches, Gary makes a swift exit. He cant spend all afternoon listening to all that shit. He has to get a half bottle of vodka from Lidl, go round to someone’s flat and get pissed-up for tonight.
15:00
Gary thinks of Joesey and calls her up.
'Oh yes I'm going out tonight! Come round I’ve got plenty vodka!'
'Great!' thinks Gary 'I can just go round and drink hers.'
Joesey, despite her pink hair with shaved back and sides, is a shy, awkward girl with eating problems. She has never made friends easily and was never popular with the opposite sex, owing, most likely to her obesity and shy, awkward disposition. Gary likes her though and being a regular patron of the Cathouse with a ready supply of vodka, she makes the perfect friend. For her part, Gary is someone to go out with and a lively and desperately needed companion.
15:50
He reaches Joesey's flat and is buzzed in. Joesey opens her door in her dressing gown. 'Hi Daz! Christ you look like you need warmed up! Sit on the couch and I'll get you a towel and a duvet.Do you want a shower?'
'Vodka will warm me up!'
Joesey's flat is a small bed-sit with a shared bathroom in Finnieston. Its not that dirty but she has a habit of just shoving stuff under the bed and everything is marked and sullied with her makeup and hair dye. They sit, knees up on the couch with duvets over them as they drink vodka-cokes and Gary regales her with stories of the last week and gossip from the streets. He saw so and so fucking so and so in a doorway on Friday, Tom overdosed and ended up in casualty, Dick's got Hep C and Harry's been charged with assault. He smells like an old, wet Labrador. But she doesn’t want to offend him by mentioning that or pressing him to have a shower, even when he takes off his Doctor Martins, admitting that he hasnt removed them for four days, and an evil, sharp stench is released. After a while, Gary conks out under the Duvet and Joesey uses this opportunity to shower and get ready. Gary’s still sleeping when she’s ready so she nips down to get chips and cheese. She wakes him and shares the chips. They have more vodka, Gary knocking back the doubles until the room starts swimming, and leave the flat.
20:15
They make their unsteady way, with Gary staggering and throwing up the chips and lunch buffet, to the George's Cross area where they descend some steps to the basement of a dark, semi-derelict building. Gary knocks. A moment later an Irishman's voice says 'Alright?'
'Hiya. Its Gary and Joesey.' slurs Gary.
The door judders open. The hall is dark.
'Ye lookin for some blow or stuff?' asks the voice. 'Cos our connection's away right now.'
'No. We've just come to chill here before headin' down to the Cathouse.'
'Come on in then.' and he leads them into the candlelit lounge, where various characters from the Glasgow street scene are sprawled out on old sofas, sofa cushions and mattresses. Plywood boards are nailed over the windows and the air is thick with smoke. No one looks up to see who’s entered. They are all preoccupied with themselves. Some couples are intimately draped across each other in tender conversation while four guys are deeply engaged in an animated exchange. Gary and Joesey find a space for themselves beside a lounging couple.
The guy looks up at Gary. 'Alright Gary? How’s it goin? Up to your usual I suppose?'
Gary doesn’t recognise him. Many more people seem to know Gary or know of him than he knows in certain circles. Joesey feels awkward and uncomfortable here but at the same time believes this is the place she should be.
Another knock at the door and in comes Dolly, a slight, young, hyperactive guy of around eighteen with longish dyed-black hair, pale skin and facial piercings, who like Gary is always out. He spots Gary and kneels behind the sofa on a cushion and leans over to tell Gary about a fight between some of his friends that’s left two of them in custody and one in casualty. They catch up with other gossip too, exchanging all the latest. Then Dolly suddenly remembers, 'Hey Gary! Have the filth spoken to you yet!?'
Gary frowns puzzled.
'Gav sez they were round your place on Friday looking for you to do with an attack on someone’s property or somethin.'
'Fuck! Ah haven’t been home for days.'
'Shit man! You better speak to Gav. They were speakin to him.'
The chat continues between Gary and Dolly and before long its time to move on to the Cathouse as Dolly is meeting people outside it at 11:30. Gary, Joesey and Dolly walk down to the Cathouse, but Dolly gets a call and suddenly has to run off towards the Merchant City because of some on goings somewhere else connected to his feuding friends.
23:35
Gary and Joesey are warmly welcomed by the staff at the Cathouse who know Gary well. Its a nightspot for many types from the Goths and Emos to generally freaky individuals. Missfits and characters of all types are welcomed here as the general policy of the nightclub is very tolerant and holds that people from the more extreme fringes of society enrich the Cathouse experience.
'I'll get us doubles! Eh?' asks Joesey and she makes straight for the bar. The club has already started to fill up. Gary starts to check out who’s in tonight. There are a few guys he’s had his eye on, but that are probably straight, a few that have resisted his advances and a few he's had already. A group of young Emo guys in tight black jeans enter the club and file past Gary towards the toilets. One of them shouts out to Gary.
'The police are after you Gary! You shouldn’t have done it!'
'What did he do?' asks his pal.
'Raped an old disabled guy and took his wallet.'
Joesey returns from the bar with four doubles of vodka coke.
'I got two for each of us to save us going up next time.' she says smiling, pleased with her practicality.
'Thanks' Gary takes his two and turns his attention back to the crowd. Someone has caught his eye. A large unfamiliar man, slightly heavy, maybe in his late thirties with a rough looking face and hairy arms dressed in biker kind of stuff, is propped against a drinks-shelf near the dance floor.
'If we drink these fast, then we can start dancin with Kay and Bronagh over there. DJ Riley on a Sunday is the best!' They quickly drink their first vodka and wander out towards Kay and Bronagh, a gothy lesbian couple that they know and who, by the way they are dancing, appear to have been drinking all evening.
'Hiya Kay!'
Kay squints up '..Alright Gary....Joesey.'
Kay and Bronagh are conveniently dancing near to where this big guy is standing. Gary at first pretends not to see him and then affects noticing him for the first time. Gradually he starts throwing mock stolen glances his way, dancing closer to where he stands. The man for his part although not overtly responding, doesn’t reject Gary's increasingly obvious attention. Having now finished her vodka, Joesey thirsts for the next drink. Gary has other things on his mind, to which she is oblivious.
'S'pose I'll just get the next round too then Gary!?...Gary!?'
'Yeah.' he responds distractedly.
She returns with four shots of Apple Sourz, Gary's favourite, smiling in anticipation of his delight, only to find Kay and Bronagh gone and Gary and the man at the side kissing and groping each other. Her face drops, head bowing forwards. She is alone now in the middle of the lively club with four Apple Sourz she will have to drink herself before making her own lonely way home. Its not the first time this has happened to her night out.
'I'll have a couple of those if you've got too many?' someone snidely suggests.
Joesey throws a dagger look out the corner of her eyes at the girl who has observed her situation, but her eyes are starting to well up.
01:10
After grinding together for a few songs Gary and this big guy decide to go back to the guy's house. They walk out to where his white Peugeot Expert van is parked in King Street car park. He seems not to have been drinking or at least not that much and he doesn’t talk much. He drives quickly down London Road and onto the M74. Once on the motorway he unzips his leather trousers, gets his dick out and grabs Gary by the back of his neck. Gary is pulled down and the guy forces his dick into the back of Gary’s throat. His dick smells bad and makes Gary gag and retch whilst half choking him. The guy moans, whilst driving with one hand on the wheel and one on the back of Gary’s head, holding him down. He veers slightly across the lanes, speeding south. Getting near climax, he pushes Gary’s face hard down into his crotch, squashing his nose and blocking his airways causing him to choke. Gary panics as he can feel his face turn purple and he brings up some vodka coke and stomach acid into his mouth. The guy yells out.
‘AHH YA FUCKIN DIRTY WEE CUNT!!’ and he flings Gary’s head back smacking it hard off the passenger side window leaving his crotch soaked and the windscreen splashed with the contents of Gary’s stomach. Gary is momentarily left dazed and slumped across the two passenger side seats. As he comes to his senses the now fuming and red faced guy is driving frantically through the streets of a town. They come to a lane at the back of some business units somewhere. The guy opens his door and drags Gary out by the back of his collar.
‘DO YOU THINK I WOULD FUCK A DIRTY WEE TRAMP LIKE YOU!!’ he roars as he smashes Gary’s head against the rough-cast of the wall. Gary crumples to the ground.
‘YOU SMELL LIKE A DEAD DOG AND YOU LOOK LIKE FUCKIN GOLLUM!’
He swings his boot into Gary’s side. Gary curls up. He kicks Gary’s bony arse a couple of times, spits on him, then gets back in his van and drives off.
01:55
Gary reels for a couple of minutes in the mud amongst broken bottles and empty cans clutching his side. The first drops of rain touch his face and in the quiet of the back lane he hears the sound of a shower spreading over the town as it grows heavier. He stiffly rises to his feet using the wall to steady himself and clutching his side, makes his way towards the light of the street at the end of the lane. He is bleeding from his forehead and his back and side is coated in mud. Emerging from the lane he has only a very rough idea of where he is. He is somewhere South-East of Glasgow in a town along the M74. Stumbling through the wet streets he finds a road sign directing the way to Glasgow via the motorway. Having no money for a taxi he reasons that the easiest way home is walking back along the way he was driven. He sets off down the slip road to the wet motorway in the rain. Along the hard shoulder the cold rain begins to bite more and become sleet, filling his drenched scalp with little grains of ice. He is only wearing a thin T-shirt under his leather jacket and soon his teeth are chattering uncontrollably and his hands, feet and forearms become numb. The cold helps to numb the pain of his bruised forehead as he continues to trudge mindlessly onwards, focused on the horizon. The lights along the motorway illuminate the sheets of freezing rain and sleet in orange against the dark. Further along towards Glasgow as his consciousness fades a little he sometimes starts to wander off the hard shoulder into the path of occasional lorries and cars which blast their horns as they steer round him, sending him staggering back to the side.
Eventually after a seemingly interminable trudge he comes to the end of the motorway at the city limits and makes his way through the cold wet streets of Rutherglen and Toryglen.
05:45
He reaches the twenty-four hour ASDA at Toryglen and sits on the floor inside the entrance. He gets out his wet phone and calls Joesey’s number as a small puddle forms around him.
‘Please hold while we divert your call.’ Then Joesey’s recorded voice sounding morose says ‘If that’s you Gary, just fuck off. I don’t want to speak to you.’
‘Excuse me pal but ye cant sit here.’ says the security guard.
Outside, the rain has eased to drizzle and Darren makes his way towards Pollokshaws where his old friend Ahmad (formerly George) lives. It will be warm there and old George will sort him out.
06:40
Gary reaches Ahmad’s flat and buzzes a few times. After a minute, a cranky sounding Ahmad answers.
‘Hello!’
‘Its Gary. Can you let me in?’
‘What the fuck do you want at this hour!?’
A bzzzzz and the door is unlocked. Ahmad is waiting in the door of his flat as Gary staggers out of the lift. He is a fat, jolly, eccentric Muslim convert in his fifties.
‘What the fuck happent to you? You look like you’ve been clobbert and half droont!’
‘Some guy knocked fuck out me and I had to walk from Larkhall or somewhere!’
‘Come in! Come in!’ Ahmad ushers him into the sitting room. ‘You’ll have tae sleep on the sofa Gary. I know yer frozen but no way can ye come into ma bed. A’m a respectit member of the Muslim community noo.’ He fetches a duvet and some pyjamas. ‘Whitever happent to ye, I don’t want to hear the ins and oots off it. It would upset me. A'm a good Muslim noo.’ With that he hobbles back to his bedroom.
Gary looks at himself in the bathroom mirror. He picks a bit of stone from the roughcast he was bashed into out of the wound on his forehead, now mostly washed clean by the rain. Looking at his face the words of his attacker about looking like Gollum suddenly sting. Just a few years ago he could be considered talent. That would be a stretch now.
He sits on the sofa for a bit and watches the morning sky become light over the city. His phone beeps with an incoming text. Its from Joesey.
‘Hiya Gary! U OK!? Soz about my voicemail. Was just pissed off. J’
Gary lies down and pulls the duvet over. He cries a bit.