The Ballad of Paudi McNair

Nobody believed in me. That was their first mistake.

A sheer drop. A sheer bleedin' drop. Some place to sleep. The ocean swirls in me ears like foam pressed through me teeth. I can hear the bubbles sizzling on the surface below. A barge of black clouds sits on the horizon like glacial mountains. I'm in fucking Howth I bet. Why's it every time I get out of me head I end up like a drowned rat on a cliff somewhere?

My hands are caked with muck. My hangnails and popped blisters are basically scabbed over with the dirt, but they sting all the same. One of me shoes is off and all. The thick wet grass feels refreshing against the bald spot on the back of me head.

I'd say that was some night alright, but I'd have to take me word for it.

A dainty little Yorkshire Terrier (not a dog at all I says) sniffs up at me runners. —Those are Airmax ye ponce, I shout with a laugh. The dog walker and her family don't look too pleased.

That's it. I pull on me shoe. Then pop to my feet like Jackie Fuckin' Chan. I bet I have a day at least till the junk starts to rattle me soul and I'll be good for nothin.

They all told me. —The last one is never the last one Paudi, you'll be back on it by tomorrow.

I told dem they can fuck off. I'm Paudi McNair. Not some average Junkball jumping from fix to fix. I'll show them. Today's the day.

And look at that, no one's home at the station, straight over the barrier and onto the DART.

I give the carriage a hawk. All the commuters tense up in their pressed suits and their pinstriped-nooses. They're all waiting to see who gets the pleasure of sitting beside 'McNair on the Tear.'

I pick a young lad with curly hair and headphones the size of a Fiesta's front wheels. I give Curly a nod and I see him accept his fate as the others take a breath. I slap the snot green seat cropping up all kinds of dust and skin before plopping myself down and getting comfy.

I see Curly's nose scrunch in the reflection of the window as he looks out onto the nothing of North Dublin. I watched with him for a while. The rolling green fields into rolling green field. —The rest is bleedin' grey HA, I tell him —grey with green trim. Curly doesn't answer.

I don't blame him one bit. He doesn't know I'm clean now and forever. I'm one of him now. A faceless commuter heading through the great nothin —into more great nothin, I tell him. I know he can hear me through his earphones.

It's exactly what Paudi McNair needs.

The sun is out today. Not in a hot way at all no. But it's behind a thin cloud as opposed to a thick one. Dublin summer I calls it. Henry Street never looked better.

—Hello Gard, I shout across the street. —Howya Paudi, he says back tipping his cap. —Staying out of trouble I hope, —haven't ye heard Gard, I'm off it! He gives me a laugh, but I'm positively serious.

As serious as famine.

That reminds me, I've not eaten since Tuesday. Don't know what day it is today now, could even be Wednesday, either way I need a nice healthy meal to keep me on the straight an narrow.

Tesco's Finest. —Howya me aul flower, I said to the security man. He's stout and is as bald as a baby's arse. I can't out run him, back in the hay-day maybe. Paudi the Tear McNair. Not just known for me drinkin'. I could tear off like a Ferrari at the drop of Garda's hat. Now me knees have gone all mushy.

I know what I want. Southern Fried Chicken wrap. Can of redbull. Spicy Thai Onion Rings. 6 bob 25 cent. Perfect, I have enough.

—I'm not fuckin' stealing, I says as he pulls at me. —You're a baldy prick y'know that a baldy prick, I'm fuckin' clean as a whistle and you're tellin' me I'm fuckin' stealin'.

He's reefing me by the arm and I swear my bones are grinding against each other under his big fat hands. Can't believe on a day like today there'd be a crowd in Tesco watching this baldy brute wrestle me and I haven't even done anything.

Then what do ye know. Without even so much as a shove from myself, baldy gives me a big tug on the arm and only gets the sleeve of me jacket. He goes hurling back and splats his fat noggin on the shiny shop floor. He lands with the crisps he took off me in his hand and they pop like a balloon sending spicy onion rings flying up into the air.

—HA you stupid bald bollox, I says with a point of the finger. I grab another pack of crisps off the counter and I bundle as fast as I could out the shop door. —FUCKIN JUNKIE, they shout, but little do they know I'm clean.

It's like a scene out of Singin' in the Rain or sumn as I burst out the shop, I nearly bleedin' jump and click me heels. Everything's going my way. —Today's the day.

As I run down the street I see a fella begging with one of them coffee cups for small cups. An espresso cup. I think to meself. AN ESPRESSO CUP? You'll not fit much change in there.

—Dream bigger friend, I shout, as I whiz on by.

St. Stephen's Green can be lovely in the afternoon. Ye have kids feeding the ducks. Nevermind the ducks, feed Paudi. HA. Only messing, I'm happy here with Browner for the day.

I wolfed down the wrap and shared a bit of me onion rings with Browner. He shovels them down like it's his last meal and I swipe them back off him.

—Do ye have a smoke Browner, I says. —Nothin like a smoke after a good meal, am I right?

Browner doesn't say much on the best of days, he just gave a fidget around in his pocket and pulled out a crumpled up box. One left. My lucky day. For that you get another onion ring my friend. I hold it in my index fingers and my thumbs like a priest.

—Body of Christ, I says. His tongue was already loosely hanging out of his mouth so I just popped it on. Funny fucker my Browner.

The cigarette takes me worries away. Now that I'm clean I have problems. I have to get meself a place to sleep, get on the dole, maybe a Leap card or something. Fuck I'll need a pension! HA.

—Imagine me Browner, pension and all.

I can tell Browner is in the sickness. He can't think of anything but the stuff right now. If I set the poor bollox alight, and put a fire extinguisher and a ball bag of gear in front of him. He'd secure the gear, and then run for the extinguisher. If he could only have one, he'd probably cook up off himself.

I can already see the crisps coming back up. In fact —BLEARGHH

Ah jesus and all over me smoke and there's the chicken wrap mixed in with the onion ring. —Jesus Browner you'll make me get sick, I says, with a laugh, poor aul Browner.

The Quays can be lovely. But they're not lovely at the minute. The Seagulls are cawing after me like I've a fresh chipper under me jacket. I wasted all me money on that meal deal. The wind at the Liffey tends to steep down against the water and blow up over and against you. Nearly cuts you in half.

Jane stopped down Stephen Green and she says —Aw Paudi d'ye have any, thought ye were off it Paudi d'ye have any. Dozey bitch. Not me, I don't. And if I did, I'd throw it to the gulls.

But the gulls want some too —D'ye have any, they caw, —Paudi d'ye have any. Pests they are. Beady black eyes with wide yellow grins. Get away from me. Ye don't believe me, get away from me.

I throw me head over the Liffey. It's dark. The waves lap up the stink of the city. Motor-oil sits on the surface like slick bile.

I bet the gulls are on me shoulders. Waiting for me to fall. As usual for the likes of them and Jane and Browner and the Garda and Curly and even that bald prick from Tesco.

No swimming tonight! Ha.

I don't know if I know how to swim. It's been so long, maybe I do? Like the ducks in Stephen's Green. —You're like a duck to water, mammy would say. It's been so long, Mammy.

The black clouds from the cliffs have followed me it seems. The rain starts plonking off my head in big drops. DRIP. DROP. It's a day for the ducks. It's a day for Paudi McNair.

The train has a rattle. The same one in me chest. I'm nearly there now. Imagine me, a whole day. I left the rain in town with Jane and the gulls. I should find a phone. I'll find a phone and I'll ring mammy, a payphone, or somethin. Do they still have them? Last time I was in one of them I had a bleedin' needle between me toes HA! —Between me toes, I laugh at everyone in the carriage.

Need to spread the word they were wrong, the word of god, the word of Paudi. —the word of Paudi Christ, I laugh again. The vapour off my lighter swirls up me nose and gets me barking like a pup. —WOOF, I laugh.

But all that's behind me. All that junk. —It'll be the death of ya, mammy shouts. I'm not like Browner, Jane, the gulls, or even the auld me. The auld Paudi.

None of them believed in me, and I tell ya, that was their first mistake.

What a day. Listen to the waves. CRASH. The salt is settling in my pores like mulch in the gutter. I curl up in the grass and get all shivery and excited like you would under the covers before mammy would tuck you in. —We'll hibernate the whole winter, mammy would say. Maybe mammy. You'd be proud of me today.

I just wish me damn shoe wasn't off.

I just wish I could keep this needle from between my toes.

—DAMN YOU NEEDLE HA, I laugh to the cliffs.

Maybe tomorrow. Tomorrow's the day. Me bloods gone awful warm. Maybe tomorrow.

If not. There's always the cliffs.