Gary by name, Gary by nature
| | Conversations With Gary Oldman
(Or How to Survive in Suburbia After Last Orders) | Friday night, suburbia, 12:15 am. I have achieved two of my four usual goals for a Friday night. I've got drunk and gone for a kebab. The other two, having a pleasant evening and talking to articulate people, haven't happened. They normally only ever happen when I head in closer to London. Getting pissed up in my own town is great fun, I normally bump into some faces I know and like, but I also bump into Gary Oldman a lot as well. He went to the same school as me, so we already know of each other.
This is prime 'Leon' era Gary: greasy hair, stubble, generally scuzzy and one crazy motherfucker. His clothes are always rumpled and his eyes are always rolling. You're never quite sure what he's going to do. He always collars me after I've said goodbye to the lads, i.e. when I'm on my own. Most of the time he's split 50:50 between being really entertaining and being mildly psychotic. Some of the time he'll have unidentified stains down his shirt. All of the time he will be completely trollyed. And all of the time he is bad news to anyone who meets him.
The first time I ran into the Oldmeister - he let's his mates call him that - was at the grand opening of our latest chain pub. All the local celebs were there. I tell you, my home town has more famous faces than the Met Bar whenever a new pub opens up. There's actors, singers, models, footballers. Last week Duncan from Blue got caught shagging that Sissy off Big Brother in the ladies at The Blue Anchor. The bouncers wanted to kick him out, but we had a word and they let him stay. After the pub, me and Duncan both went and got a large doner from Dane Bower's kebab stand in the High Street. Duncan said he hadn't meant to cop off with Sissy, but all that tequila made him fancy a bit of ginger minge. He laughed and dropped his chilli. Dane stopped shovelling chips into his mouth long enough to hand Duncan a replacement. But I'm going off on a tangent. Sorry, I was talking about Gary Oldman wasn't? So yeah, the latest chain pub had opened up, and there in the corner was Gary. He was with Tim Roth and Ray Winstone I think, but they were playing on the Weakest Link machine. Gary had a blue WKD on the go and was swaying a bit. I nodded hello and he nodded back. Seems friendly enough, I thought. Maybe he remembers me from school. Sure enough, a bit later on, Gary cornered me at the bar.
"I know you dun I?" he slurred.
"Err, you're Gary Oldman aren't you?" I said. "You were a few years above me at school."
"Burger!" he said happily.
"No, Gary. BOOGER."
"Yeah, dat's it! Booger. You wanna drink?"
Gary bought me a beer, then sidled off to help Tim and Ray with a question about who Danger Mouse's boss was. Tim thought it was Special K before Gary put him right. Gary and Ray both called Tim "a big spazzer" and they all laughed. Later that night, I bumped into Gary again coming out of the gents. He had an Embassy No1 hanging from his mouth and what looked like Ribena down his shirt. I asked how he was.
"What the fucks it got to do with you?" he said, eyes narrowing.
"Gary, mate. It's me."
"Oh, you! That scruffy prick from school."
At this point, Ray Winstone came over and led Gary away. He turned to me and said: "Don't worry about it Burger, he's just drunk."
Ray is a big fella, so I never bothered to correct him.
And so Gary and me established our fragile relationship. If I saw him early on in the evening, he'd be all smiles and we'd have a chat. We'd swap jokes and have a laugh. If I saw him later on, he'd call me a cunt and try to start on me. One time I saw Ray he said Gary was fine unless he drank whiskey. I don't know about that; seems to me Gary must drink the stuff every night he's out.
So, anyway, last Friday. I'm in the kebab shop. Dane's was open, but he'd run out of pitta breads again. I think he scoffs them himself. So I was down the road in Ultimate Kebabs waiting for a cheeseburger. It was past 12, the pubs and late-licence pubs had kicked out, but the one club in town was still drawing them in. It's a good time to go for food in a small town, right in between the busy periods. I was sat reading The Sun when the door whooshed open and banged against the wall. It was Gary Oldman. He was very, VERY drunk.
"Oi, Christos." He bellowed. "Gimme a doner with lots of chilli sauce and no salad. Quickly ya prick's head!" He was smiling, but Gary was angry about something, I thought it best to not say hello.
"Booger, ya cunt!"
Bollocks.
I smiled. "Alright Gary?"
"Nah, my slut girlfriend kicked me out today. Says I've got a drink problem. Then this girl in the pub kept ignoring me when I was talking to her. Honestly, I was only trying to tell 'er she had great tits. And then her boyfriend got involved. So I glassed him. Prick went down. How're you?"
I was kind of stunned at that but managed, "Yeah, I'm good thanks."
That was all Gary needed. He had his audience now. I was having a conversation whether I liked it not.
"Yeah, that twat in the pub. Mate, don't you hate it when these pricks start fights?"
I thought about just how wrong Gary's last statement was, about how many times I could correct him. I didn't say anything, just nodded.
"I mean, why bother? I mean, likedid he want his face all fucked up?"
I thought that the poor bloke in the pub probably wanted to save his girlfriend from an encounter with this dribbling wreck, but I kept schtum.
"I tell ya though, you should've heard the sound that glass made on his face. It CRUNCH-"
Right at that point, I realised that the door had opened and Gary had stopped talking. I also realised that the kebab shop guy was watching Gary very closely.
The new arrival was only about my height, and I'm not tall. He had glasses, and was maybe in his early thirties. And he was looking right at Gary. Worse, Gary was looking back.
"What are you looking at prick's head?"
"Nothing mate."
Gary didn't buy it. "Yeah? I don't believe it. I reckon you've got a problem. Have you? Have you got a problem with me?"
"No, honest mate. No problems."
Gary stood up and took a step closer.
I won't tell you about the next two or three minutes; about how Gary took great delight in humiliating this poor guy, shouting right in his face while the guy stood totally still and a muscle twitched in his jaw. I really don't want to mention what Gary said about the guy and his family. Let's just say the whole thing ended with Gary throwing a newly purchased bottle of Sprite at the fella and calling him a "prick's head" as he scurried out the door. That bloke's resolve was incredible. But then again, if he'd squared up he'd have given Gary what he wanted.
The kebab guy gave Gary his doner and said, "I think you'd better leave now Gary, mate."
Gary looked at him like he'd just passed over a warm turd instead of a kebab. "You what?" he sneered. "How much money do I spend in here Christos?"
"How many times have I told you that that isn't my name, Gary?" kebab guy calmly replied.
"Fuck it, your kebabs are shit anyway." With that Gary, turned and left the shop.
I haven't seen him since. To be honest, I don't miss him. He's a really nice bloke when he's sober, but seeing as he's always drunk then by default he isn't a nice bloke very much. Even Tim and Ray don't seem to put up with him that much. I saw them the other day in The Hobgoblin. Tim was playing Who Wants to be a Millionaire? Ray and I had a little chat. He pretty much told me he hates Gary when he gets like that. They just want to go out and have a good time, maybe go on the pull occasionally. You know, just mates having a laugh. "Stopping Gary from killing someone is not a good night out," said Ray. Then Tim called over and asked me who played Mr Orange in Reservoir Dogs.
"Err, wasn't it you Tim?" I replied.
"Oh yeah. Cheers, Boog."
Ray gave him the mongy face, and we all laughed. Ray Winstone does a really good mongy face.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Gary Oldman isn't real. Well, he is real, but he lives in a big house somewhere and has probably never been to my home town. I shouldn't need to say this, but I don't know the bloke in the story, he's made up. If you're reading this and you know me, Gary Oldman isn't based on you. But if that thought is niggling in the back of your head, maybe you should be a bit more civil when you're out and stop ruining other people's fun. Cheers.
Submitted by Booger
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