September 9 2004

Crystal Palace

Being Palace-ically incorrect can be a risky business. Glancing nervously over his shoulder, Jamesey spills the beans

It was a murky night in Earlsfield, SW18, the mist from the Wandle cloaked the tower blocks of the burg with wisps of white chiffon. Somewhere a Canada goose honked.

I had just uncorked a fifth of bourbon in my apartment when the phone rang. It was my editor Penge Eagle. He was nervous.

"Hey, Jamesey, get down to HOL Towers pronto...we got plenty trouble...the Palace Inquisition want to interview you." Penge sighed and then said quickly: "They are charging you with UnPalacical Activities and a committee wants to interview you."

"No problem, Penge," I said and jumped into a cab. I smiled but I sure needed another drink bad.

I could see the flickering screen and the silhouette of Guntri thorough the blinds of Penge's office. One of the HOLlettes bought me a cup of coffee from the machine.

"OK, Penge," I said, "What now?"

"They're waiting in the back room of the Selhurst Arms to interrogate you. They say you've been badmouthing the club too much."

"OK, let's go," I said.

There were three of them sitting at table.

"How long have you supported Palace?" said the chief heavy. He sure was a mean-looking sonovobitch.

"Fifty years," I said.

"And why are you being so disloyal and critical this season?"

"I didn't think I was really," I said. "I've supported the Lilywhites, Glaziers and the Eagles through the Fourth Division, the Third Division South, the Third Division, the Second Division, the First Division and the Premiership and not in that order.

"If you bother to read what I write, all I say is that I think we should enjoy our season in the Premiership but be prepared to go back down again because I don't think Dowie can work two miracles in succession, especially in view of the players we have bought, many of whom are second choices...But I hope I am wrong."

"Shaddap, " said one of the trio. "That sort of talk can get you in big trouble."

"Well, gallows humour used to be a big aspect at Selhurst. We never took anything too seriously cos who knew how long it would last?"

The third man gave me a scornful glance. "I suppose you think we are a bunch of sanctimonious, self-important, tw@ts?" he said.

I knelt on the floor and felt the snub of the pistol at the back of my head...the only thing that flashed through my mind was Palace versus Carlisle at Selhurst Park in the early 80s...a crowd of 3000, arse-freezingly cold and we lost. That's what real misery is like. Death where is thy sting?

And then, came the sound of my beloved partner's voice. "Wake up, Jamesey, you're having a bad dream."

The morning light hit the blinds and somewhere a Canada goose honked.

*Apologies to the ghosts of Raymond Chandler and Arthur Koestler.

Email Jamesey with any of your comments to Jevans3704@aol.com

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