Dorty Wee Shite - Chapter 7

Chapter 7 – Trial And Error With The Piss Tube.

Whilst they were together on the tube train, between gasping for breathes of fresh air, which were unfortunately proving to be few and far between, given the amount and pungency of Dannys curry powered wind, they talked about the nights events. Events which had culminated in them being asked to leave before they had all completed the challenge. Will confessed that once again, this had not actually been his intention. He hadn’t even come up with a suitable floor clearing plan before he was sick. He went on to accuse Jay of spiking his drink with pubes, which the others, especially Danny found hilarious. Instead of condemning him for his actions, Danny congratulated Jay on them. To Wills disgust he went on to say that he was probably a far better candidate for earning the coveted name of Dorty Wee Shite.
“But you can’t do that sort of thing to your mates” interrupted Will.
“Why not?” countered Danny. “It’s still funny, regardless of who it’s on”
They couldn’t argue with that, after all it was only Will who hadn’t seen how funny it was.
What made this turn of events even worse for Will was that it had, exactly as he feared, inspired the very worst out of Jay. Jay took to this part like a duck to water, he was in his element. Will didn’t know if deep down his displeasure was down to a deep rooted disgust in the tasks they were being asked to perform. Or was it a form of envy for Jay*1 , surely that couldn’t be it.

Before they parted company to make their way back home, Danny brought back the subject of pissing on the floor, but instead of telling them how he had done it, as was the original plan when it was just Will. He said.
“You’re a clever bunch of lads. I’m sure that between you, you can work out the best way of doing it. So that’s the challenge for this fortnight OK?” And with that bombshell, they went their separate ways. “Oh, and this time it won’t be a club.”

Whilst discussing the possibilities over a couple of drinks at Neils dads house, it became clear how Danny had performed his trick. It was so obvious when they thought of it, but it took Neil to actually put it into words.
“Well, it’s obvious how Danny did it, isn’t it? He must have had a tube down his leg.”
Neil really thought that he was the only one to come up with this solution.
“Yes Neil, I’m sure we had all come to that conclusion. But what sort of tube?” Questioned Will.

The four friends decided to meet up back at the garage, after work as it was probably the best equipped place to come up with ideas, and they were right. Rummaging around the pile of scrap awaiting collection were numerous rubber hoses from radiator hoses, to rubber brake tubes, and even a concertinaed air duct. None of which were even remotely suitable. “Why did you bring this in Neil?” asked Simon. “It’s wider than my leg, how do you think you could disguise it?” “Or this” added Will, holding up a thin radiator overflow pipe. “What am I supposed to do? Feed it up my japs eye or something? Even if I did manage to do that it still wouldn’t reach the top of my knee.”

“We could stick a couple of tubes together with duct tape” suggested Neil It was soon realised that none of the tubes would be any use for this application. They were all either too big or too small, totally inflexible, and certainly impossible to disguise in any way.

Then Jay came up with something that showed some potential. “What about if we stick a few of those washer bottle hoses together, then stick them through a hole in a condom. That might work.”

It was decided that so far, this was the only idea that showed any hope of working. They wanted to test it out, but none of them wanted to be the guinea pig. Reluctantly Jay agreed to do it. Once they had spliced three tubes together, and gaffer taped it to a condom they sent him off to the toilet to fit it. He came back out shortly afterwards with his trousers off and the thin tube hanging from the leg of his boxer shorts.
“It’s not very comfortable.” He said.
“Go on then, give it a try” said Simon
“I can’t just piss on demand. I don’t need to go.”
Even though they had already had large mugs of tea, Jays bladder was not ready to be part of this test. Then Neil said he would prefer if Jay stood outside the back door so the he didn’t pee on the workshop floor, they agreed that the cool air outside might also aid in inducing a wee. It worked, at least the bladder induction had worked, the heath robinson tube on the other hand faired less well. Once Jay started to pee, only a small dribble came out the bottom of the tube. Maybe there was a blockage, or they had crimped one of the joins. It became clear that the joints in the pipes were not watertight, as there was a certain amount of seepage from the top one. But most alarmingly, was the fact that the vast majority of the wee was swelling up in the condom, and once started, Jay couldn’t stop. It eventually burst through the back of the condom soaking his groin and legs.

“That’s it” he announced angrily. “I’m not having anything to do with this”
“Oh come on Jay” implored Neil. “We nearly had it, that almost worked. I know, what about an old bike inner tube. We’ve got a load of those out the back”
He went to pile of old tyres, and alongside them was a smaller pile of inner tubes from cars and bikes. Why they hadn’t thought of this before was beyond them. It was the perfect width, was certainly long enough, and was of course flexible enough to conceal under a pair of trousers.
“OK, but somebody else can wear it this time” Said Jay Simon agreed to give this one a try. “ Oh, give it here, I’ll try it. But I’m not wearing it out. It’s your book Will, so you’re going to be the one when we do it for real”

They decided that the best course of action would be to cut the valve out first, then measure and cut it to be the same as the wearers inside leg. So far, it appeared to be working quite well. Simon fitted the tube over his dick, then secured it with a bit more gaffer tape. The other end was left to dangle just outof the bottom of his trousers, Trying to wee without holding on to his dick, or giving any indications of what he was doing proved to be quite difficult. He did however manage it, and it was indeed quite successful. The only problem was that there was a bit of a kink in the tube at the bottom, which managed to direct the piss into his shoe.

Neil suggested it would be any easy fix and taped the bottom of the pipe to the outside of Simons shoe. “There we go. Give it another try.”
“I Can’t give it another try yet, I’ve just emptied my bladder.”

They all decided that the best course of action would be to walk to the pub just down the road for a quick pint,then maybe try it out on the way back home. Initially Simon wasn’t too pleased with that suggestion, but had to agree that as it was already on, reasonably comfortable, and had already proved itself to be leak proof, apart from the snag at the bottom, then it couldn’t really go wrong.

Walking proved to be less comfortable now though. Due to the pipe being secured at both ends now, it had lost some of it’s give. For a while, it seemed to Simon, each and every step was tugging a few of his pubic hairs out. Eventually that eased off though, so he assumed that all the hairs that he had trapped under the tape must now have been ripped out.

It was still fairly early evening when the arrived, It was dry and reasonably warm, so they found a table in the pub garden. Will went in to buy a round, the others made themselves comfortable, surrounded by families enjoying a quite pub meal. After a couple of pints, Simon felt that he could attempt to go. After all, he was stood on grass, he had his mates with him, and he knew this time the tube would work. All he had to do was try to keep engaged with the conversation, and make sure he kept eye contact with whoever was talking. Nobody would be any the wiser.

Jay noticed the somewhat distracted smile on Simon’s face. Simon noticed that somehow, the pipe just didn’t feel right, at least it didn’t feel the same as it had done in the garage, but most distrurbingly, a small boy of about six years old noticed something happening, and couldn’t stop himself from blurting it out for all to hear.

“Mummy!” He exclaimed. “Why is that man wetting himself”

This of course drew everybody’s attention to Simon, and his disgraceful plight. Simon, looked down to see that the tube had obviously become completely detached, and he had now soaked his trousers and couldn’t stop the flow.

“We’ve got to go now”. He exclaimed, as he headed for the gate, hoping the others would follow. They did so, but not before Jay called out. “It’s OK, it’s part of a medical experiment to make a man pregnant. I think his waters may have broken.”

Before heading home, Neil loaned Simon a set of overalls to wear so that he could get out of his soiled pants and trousers. Although disheartened, they knew that they were on the right track, and with only a couple of days left wouldn’t really have much more time to experiment before they were supposed to be meeting up with Danny again.

Dorty Wee Shite - Chapter 6

6 – Changing The Rules

Will decided that he should let Danny know he was going to enlist the help of some old friends, for moral support and as much as anything to help him keep a grip on his sanity. Danny seemed more than happy with that idea, which surprised Will a little, as he still thought that Danny was doing it to make him feel as uncomfortable as possible.
“I think that’s the first really good idea you have had Will. See if you can get them all together tomorrow night and we’ll grab a bite to eat."
As usual, Danny’s manner was more like a business associate than some weird, twisted black mailer, and Will was sure that his old mates would get on well with him. In fact he had something of a fear that Jay would get on too well with him, and adopt him as some sort of filthy role model.
The plan was to go to a curry house in Clapham, then get the tube to the West End and a club. Will was concerned about Danny’s enthusiastic voice. It sounded as though he already had a plan in mind, and that thought wasn’t overly comforting.

Luckily, all three of his mates were available, and looking forward to a night out. They had been fore warned that Danny would be joining them, and would probably be giving them, or at least Will some impossible challenge.
The four lads met up in the restaurant and were shown to a table which Danny had pre booked, although he hadn’t yet shown up. When he arrived, his unassuming demeanour was not quite what Wills friends had expected at all. Even after Will had tried to paint an imaginary picture of him. The torment he was putting Will through made him out as some sort of evil beast, which could not have been further from the truth when they met him. He could easily have been the father to any one of them. Which actually made the whole situation seem even more bizarre.
If they thought that by coming along they could just be impartial bystanders to gleefully observe Wills misfortune, their illusions were soon to be shattered.
“Hello lads, I’m so glad you could all make it. I think tonight could be quite a laugh. It’ll make Wills training much easier and more enjoyable.” He held out his hand to greet each of the young men in turn. “I’m Danny, I’m sure Will has told you about me.”
“Simon”, stated Simon, as he shook Danny by the hand.
“Ahh yes, Simon, Will’s talked a lot about you. You still keep in contact don’t you.”
Neil was next, and offered his hand without saying anything. Will spoke up. “This is Neil, it was his dad I met at the Roxbury.”
“Ha ha, yes the Roxbury.” Danny said through a smile. “Are we hoping for something a little more, shall we say, entertaining this time?” Then turning to Neil he added “So are you the inspiration for being a dorty wee shite, I wonder” Perhaps the appearance of Neils well scrubbed but still slightly garage grime stained hands had indicated dirtiness.
“No, not really, that would be Jay.” Said Neil as he nodded toward the last of the group who had not yet been introduced.
“Oh thanks.” Countered Jay in mock hurt tones, as this was his opening to avail a new audience of his tales of a mis spent youth, or blatent lies as his friends already knew. He held out his hand for Danny. “Jay Cartwright, Proprietor of the veritable minge magnet that is Guilty Pleasures in Morden.”
With a smile, Danny shakes Jays hand. “Ahh yes Guilty Pleasures. I can see why your friends would class you as the Dorty Wee Shite, well lets see how you all get along with tonights challenge shall we?”
Will was a little shocked that the subject had been brought up so early, after all, the introductions were hardly out of the way. “Shouldn’t we order something to eat first, surely that is the most civilised way of conducting an evening? Whatever happened to social foreplay?”
“There is a very good reason Will, that I wanted to tell you about the challenge first” replied Danny. “It is because it may influence what you want to eat”
Those words gave everybody around the table cause to be concerned, and it showed on their faces, so Danny wanted to reassure them. “Don’t look so worried, this one will be fun, I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.” Although what kind of reassurance that was supposed to be was anybodys guess. It certainly did little to reassure any of the boys. The Indian waiter came up for a second time to see if they were ready to order and was given a drinks order, as much as anything to get him out of earshot for a couple of minutes.
“Right” said Danny with the air of confidence you would expect from an officer in the army. “Tonights challenge is an easy one. All you have to do is get on the dance floor in the club, and clear some space around you in any way you like.”
“That’s it is it?” asked Simon, “we just have to clear a space on the floor, that’s easy, we just ask Jay to wear his work clothes, I can’t see anybody coming close to us then.”
“Very funny Sy” came Jays response. “But I’m not going back to work to get changed am I?”
Then Danny added “Anyway, that would only work for Jay, you need to clear your own spaces, and be seen staying in it. You can’t just wander off.”

They ordered their food, the boys stuck to regular favourites and each had a pint. Danny on the other hand ordered a concoction of curried spinach and vegetables, onion bhaji, and something that looked and smelled suspiciously like very old curried egg.
During the meal, the nights challenge was pretty much forgotten about, and the conversation revolved around some of their past expoits. Amidst much laughter Will recalled the time when he had to share a bed with Neil, and had to endure Neil pissing himself, and another time when Simon had thrown up on the young brother of a girl he was trying to impress. The more they talked, the more they considered that perhaps they could conquer this challenge after all. Will was feeling a lot more confident now, until Danny burst the bubble with his next statement.
“You can’t class yourself as the Dorty Wee Shite, if all your anecdotes are based on the actions of your mates. That makes them the dorty wee shite. Not you!. Also, you can’t consider it the actions of a dorty wee shite if it’s an accident, that’s just unfortunate. When Neil pissed in the bed, he wasn’t doing it on purpose. Now, had he done it whilst standing at the end of the bed, in full control of his faculties. That would have been a different matter. ”
“I suppose so”, agreed Simon, “ The same applies to throwing up on Carlies brother really. That was the drink. Mind you can you imagine the trouble I would have been in if I’d done it on purpose?”
“It would have been funnier though.” Added Jay.
“Funnier?” replied Simon in disbelief. “It wasn’t funny at all, it was one of the most traumatising, devastating events in my life. How is that funny? It’s probably that which lost Carli for me.”
The others suggested that there were probably a lot of other reasons why Carli had not wanted to be with Simon, and that it was actually a pretty lucky escape anyway, as he had done far better by getting together with Jane.
Will eventually swung it with “And, it was a bit funny really wasn’t it” Which in retrospect Simon had to agree with.
During the meal, attention turned back to Danny, as Simon asked a crucial question, which Will realised he should have thought about long ago. “Mr Graves,” He said “It’s all a bit one sided isn’t it?, I mean you asking Will, and now us, why we deserve this title. But what about you? What evidence have you given Will that you deserve it?”
They all thought that Danny would be flustered by that, but once again was quite open, and questioned why that hadn’t already been asked. He went on to explain that Will had already seen a little evidence of his claim from their first outing, and that he was always prepared to do whatever challenge he set for anybody else. “I can tell you tales” he said “But that might be just giving away more than just my title. I mean I’m upset with that being taken, can you imagine how I’ll feel if all my original content is stolen too? My stories, with my title under somebody elses name. I can’t see anybody being happy with that. Can you?”
So, with both the conversation and the meal ended, it was time to head for the night club, and a challenge which all thought was for Will only initially, but which they were now all enrolled in.
The club they had chosen for the night was a regular over 25’s night, so none of them were quite so out of place, and even Danny didn’t appear to be in the upper age group of the clientele. The music seemed to be mostly 80’ and 90’s and none of them had any idea how they could clear a bit of floorspace, although unwittingly Neil seemed to have achieved it effortlessly almost as soon as they arrived. He heard a tune he always liked and headed straight for the floor where he treated the other dancers to a taste of his unique dancing style. Whether the others on the floor wanted to take a step backwards to admire his moves, or merely distance themselves from him was irrelevant, the effect was the same, a definite space in an otherwise crowded floor.
“See” said a pleased Danny, “that task is easy, and fun, judging by Neil’s face”
“I’m going to need another drink or two before dancing anything like that.” said Will, so he and Jay headed off to the bar, leaving Danny and Simon to stand and chat by one of the pillar mounted tables.
Shortly Jay and Will returned with their hands full of pint glasses, Neil also returned to get his drink, sweaty and smiling, totally unaware that he had completed his part of the challenge already. “So can we all just copy Neil to clear our bit of floor?” said Will, taking a sip of his beer., then plucking something from between his teeth.
“Of course you can” said Danny “If you think your dancing style is as flamboyant and floor clearing as Neil, then go for it.”
Will realised that his confidence on the dance floor, or lack of it, meant that even with his best efforts he wouldn’t be able to put on such a moving display. The five of them stood for a while at the post supping their beers, with Will sporadically removing an errant hair from his mouth, it was about the fifth time that he had done it before he made comment. “Cor, this is a hairy old pint” To which Jay replied “Is it?”, whilst suppressing a smile. “Oh, that’s given me an idea, come on Will, bring your drink. I know how we can clear a space, bring your drink.” With that they wandered to the edge of the floor, Jay started moving about to the music, and gleefully slopping is pint about, and gradually people started to edge away a little to a drier patch of floor. Meanwhile Will took another gulp of his own beer, and was once again the victim of a floating hair. He looked up, to see Jay, smirking, with his hand down the front of his trousers. And still slopping his beer on the floor.
“What are you doing Jay? Christ, you can’t do that in here we’ll get chucked out.”
Jay winced a little as he withdrew his hand, and was holding a small pinch of his pubic hair.
Suddenly It dawned on Will why his pint had been so hairy, The combination of that thought mixed with a hot curry, a couple of pints of beer, and the feeling of one of Jays pubes stuck in the back of his throat, sent him over the edge. He retched once, before letting fly with a most impressive display of projectile vomiting which of course cleared a significant area of dance floor very quickly. Almost as soon as he had been sick, two of the clubs security came over and asked Will and Jay to leave. They managed to collect the others on their way out, and it was declared that Will had been the undisputed winner.
While walking back to the tube Danny confessed that his own plan for clearing space hadn’t started working yet, but it would do soon. It was on the tube that they realised why his meal had been so unusual, as the flatulence created by curried eggs and spinach was unbelievably bad.

Dorty Wee Shite - Chapter 5

5 – The Shop Of Ill Repute

As they arrived at Morden, the car started to sound worse, and eventually shuddered to a halt, Leaving the boys to push it into a side street. As they were pushing Neil broke the silence. “Oh no, I’ll have to get Greg to come out and tow us back to the garage, perhaps it wasn’t just the temperature gage.”

“Apparently not Neil” replied Will in his sarcastic tone. “Don’t worry I’ll have a look. Oh no wait a minute I won’t know, because I’m not a mechanic. What about you Simon? Any ideas?”
“It could be the heater matrix gudgeon pin” he replied.
“I’ve never heard of that Sy” said Neil, “Do you know where it is?”
“No Neil, I don’t because I’m not a mechanic either, I just made it up. What about you?, you’re the mechanic.”
“Oh right, yeah. But I don’t think it’s anything to do with a gudgeon pin. It’s more likely to be a stuck thermostat or a split hose, anyway, Jays shop is only a little bit further, we can walk from here.”

Walking along one of the side streets of Morden, they come across a blacked out shop called Guilty Pleasures. Will jokes that back in the old days this is the sort of place he would expect to find Jay frequenting.
“Oh yes”, says Neil, “This is the one” and with that, he pushes open the door and walks in. Slightly stunned, Simon & Will follow. If they were stunned by the outside of the shop, they were even more stunned when they saw Jay. Sat behind the counter, wearing a very revealling and rather camp looking top. Jay looks up from the magazine he’s reading. Somewhat flustered, as he realises that the three new customers are not his regulars, but are three old faces from his past “Oh, hello” he says, “I haven’t seen you pair of sad cases for a long time. What are you now? Doctors or lawyers”

“I’m in management.” Says Simon
“and I’m but a humble writer” boasts Will.
“Oh right.” Says a knowing Jay. “So you’re not really working and still a bit of a briefcase wanker eh?”
“I might not be in a full time job at the moment Jay, but at least I’m not being pimped out and working for some old pervert in a seedy sex shop!” retorts a rather rattled Will.

“I don’t work for anybody. This is my shop...”
“Really, Jay? Is it really your shop?. I suppose your old bigot of a dad just keeled over and left you enough money to buy a chain of high class sex shops around the country did he Jay?” Will was really going off on one now, and failed to notice that neither Simon, nor Neil were saying a word, and Jay sat in stunned silence, eyes becoming glassy as this tirade continued. “ I suppose you travel around the porn studios of Hollywood, breaking in all the new actresses so they can pursue a career in the movie business. You know I guessed that you might work in a place like this, but I didn’t expect you to still be such a bull shitter Jay.”

When Will finishes, expecting a backlash, he’s surprised to be met with complete silence. A pause which threatens to become uncomfortably long, before Neil pipes up. “ How did you know Will? Jays dad did die. I came to the funeral. I don’t think there was enough to buy a whole chain of shops though. Just this one.” Again Will had unknowingly said all the worst things he could possibly have done, and looked up shame faced to see Jay, still sat behind the counter, with his face in his hands, obviously distraught. “He might not have been perfect Will, but he was still my dad, and I still loved him OK.”

A shocked and mortified Will tries to pacify Jay “ I’m so sorry Jay, I really had no idea. I mean, you would have thought that at some point during our drive here, our imbecile of a friend Neil could have mentioned some of that.” Turning to Neil he continues “Why Neil? – Why couldn’t you mention that Jays dad had passed away, or that he owned his own business. Dear God has nothing changed with you lot?”
“I didn’t want the shock to upset you.” Replied Neil, with the full belief that withholding this information was in some way protecting Will.
“Oh thank you Neil. That was so very thoughtful of you, after all none of us is shocked or upset now are we, so that’s all gone pretty well.” Will’s sarcasm was scathing, but he mellowed instantly to comfort Jay.
“I really am very sorry Jay, even I wouldn’t have said that if I’d already known. Can we start again please?” and Will hold his hands open to give Jay the opportunity to come round and make amends. Jay looked up, wiped his eyes and stood, to come round to the other side of the counter. If Will and Simon had been shocked by the sight of Jay behind the counter, it was nothing compared the shock they had when he came to give Will a reconciling hug. He was not wearing regular trousers or what would be acceptable shop attire. Instead he was wearing a PVC thong, and a very large strap on, penis that wobbled disturbingly as he approached. Will tried to recoil before Jay could take him in a brotherly embrace, but too late. “What on earth are you wearing Jay” asked a very shocked Will. “You can’t serve customers dressed like that” He was torn between very mixed feelings. Guilt at having upset his old mate having only just met him after so long, excitement and in some weird way , pleasure that they could enjoy a few laughs again. But the overwhelming feeling was that of this big thing pushing against him strapped to another man.
Simon breaks in “You probably can in here though Will”
“What?” asked an incredulous Will “On what planet do you think it’s normal practice for shop assistants to go prancing around the shop dressed in , in well I can’t even put into words what you are dressed in Jay”
, “ I mean, it’s not Tesco’s is it?” counters Simon. “I think it would be a bit disturbing to see some of the staff in there wearing a strap-on, but it’s probably like advertising in here.”
At this Neil starts trying to suppress a snigger, “Sorry, I was just imagining some of the old ladies in the charity shop in it” “Oh that’s far enough Neil, Simons vision of young supermarket staff was bad enough, but that just turned my stomach, you are still a very sick young man, do you know that”
Smiling, Neil nods his agreement, and as if he hadn’t already pushed things too far, broached a subject that all had thought about, but none had dared to comment on. “Or your mum Will. I’d like to see her dressed like that.”
Will is absolutely horrified at that concept, but try as hard as he could, he couldn’t stop the vision creeping into his mind. “I did not need that little nugget of imagery Neil. A random old lady in a charity shop is one thing, but thinking of my mum dressed like that doesn’t bear thinking about.”
“I bet she’s still fit though isn’t she” adds Neil, who is now so side tracked that he can’t get off the subject “Well, actually Neil, like the rest of us. Well, most of us. She has aged about ten years, and although I never saw her as being ‘fit’ as you so tastefully put it, I think it is a fair assumption to suggest that she is somewhat less fit now, than when we were at school.”
“What about your dad Neil?” burst in Simon. “It’s not an attractive thought I know, but I can imagine him dressed like Jay.” “I’m going to get changed” said Jay. “Watch the shop for a bit will you. You get some odd sorts in here.”
Will called back “I can’t imagine why Jay. After all, it’s not the sort of place you’d expect to bump into sex pests and perverts is it?”

There was no doubt that meeting up with Neil and Jay again was going to be, as Jay had put it, a bit of a laugh, it was also likely to be awkward at times, after all neither of them had enjoyed the educational benefits that He and Simon had. Although he had to admit, both of them seemed to be far better prepared for the dorty wee shite project, than he was. It would be far less daunting sharing this experience with them than trying to do it all himself.

Dorty Wee Shite - Chapter 4

4 – Basic Training And The Trouble With Old Mates.


Will decided that it wouldn’t hurt to spend a few more days staying with his dad, although it may obviously bring back his dads’ perception that Will was a bit weird. He wasn’t sure if he wanted Danny Graves to meet him though, because if that went the wrong way, it would only reinforce those ideas. At least he may be able to avoid any other nut cases that might be trying to get hold of him, although his fears that the biggest nutcase had already done so.

The first thing he would do was contact Simon, and arrange to meet up with their old school mate Neil at the garage.

Simon was certainly up for that idea, and it gave Will a glimpse back into the normal world again, which even after so short a time seemed so far away. Although meeting up once more with Neil again would hardly be most peoples idea of normal.

Simon & Neil decided that rather than phone up first, they would take a trip to their old neighbourhood and call in on Neil with a surprise visit. He hadn’t changed all that much, despite the passing years. He was undoubtedly skilled at what he did, but his basic common sense was still the Neil they knew and sort of loved. It was quite clear that a university education would not have suited him at all, in fact if truth be known, even the latter years of school had been somewhat wasted on him.

When they reached the garage, they peered through the open door to the workshop, and called out.
“Hello, is there a Neil Sutherland here?” Simon called out first, in a slightly exaggerated tone of officialdom.
“We’re here from the DVLA, it would appear your MOT testing license has expired” Continued Will.
From a door across the workshop came a nervous call. “ Hold on, I’ll be with you in a moment.” Then silence. Folowed by a flush, and the sound of a door being unbolted.” I’m sure I can explain,” came back Neils voice, then he appeared at the door, in filthy oil covered overalls, and equally filthy hands.
As he approached, Neil was talking. “I don’t really deal with the paperwork, so I’m not sure what papers you need to see” Then he recognised his old school mates, and greeted them warmly with a dirt encrusted handshake. Will could not hide his obvious discomfort at this.
“Normally, I’d ask if you had washed your hands after coming out of the toilet Neil. But I can see quite clearly that you haven’t”
“It’s OK, Will, it was only a wee, and I didn’t spill any.”
Simon started laughing, at the irony in Wills comment, having already been told the whole story of what was going on. “You’re going to have to be a bit less uptight about that sort of thing Will. I can see you’re really going to struggle with your new project with those attitudes.”
Neil was somewhat bemused, and offered to make his old mates a cup of tea.
“OK, Neil, I’ll explain, but first please wash your hands before making the tea. I may have to deal with is in easy stages, and drinking out of a cup held by your willy fiddling fingers is not in the early stages.”

Once again Will had to explain about his problem, how he was now stuck with writing a book using a title that didn’t belong to him, with a subject that he was rapidly finding was as unsuitable for him as any title possibly could be, and to cap it all with this old guy who was determined to make his life as awkward as possible so that he could use this unsuitable title. The more he thought about it, the worse his situation seemed to be getting.
“Christ, Neil. I mean I’m not a dorty wee shite am I. Simon certainly isn’t, and I can’t imagine you are either. Well not intentionally anyway”. This last point was emphasised pointedly as Will was glaring at Neils still filthy hands, as he handed out equally grubby garage mugs filled with tea. Neil looked guiltily at his hands, then apologised.
“Oh, sorry I forgot to wash my hands again didn’t I?.”
“Really Neil?” said Will sarcastically, “I can’t say that I’d noticed.”
Meanwhile Simon was obliviously drinking his tea. “You don’t make a bad cuppa actually Neil.” Between sips he added, “You know what we need don’t you? We need to track down Jay. If any of us was a dorty wee shite, it was Jay”
Will had to admit, that getting back in touch with Jay might not be such a bad idea.
“He certainly told a good dirty story, and it is supposed to be a work of fiction, and Jay was definitely good at that. All the stories he told as truth were made up anyway. Any ideas on what’s he’s up to these days?”

“I know where he is” said Neil “He works in a shop down in Morden, we can take a drive over there if you like. I can lock up here and we can take the old Montego for a test drive. It needs a good run, I’ve just done the exhaust.”

So once again, they were off to make a surprise call on an old friend. It was quite an exciting prospect to have all four of them back together again after such a long time. In the car they chatted about what life had thrown at them, and Will was at at last feeling more comfortable than he had done for such a long time. He hadn’t felt this relaxed in the company he was around since long before the book idea, before his days in University even, and he had Danny Graves to thank for it, indirectly.

This trip really was like a journey back in time for the three young men. There was no doubt that the exhaust was fitted well enough, but the engine didn’t sound too healthy, and the temperature gage flickered alarmingly indicating that the car may overheat at any moment, or possibly freeze. It was difficult to tell. Despite Neil’s assurances that it was just a faulty gage, that his cousin was due to replace once the spare part had arrived, neither Will nor Simon felt fully reassured. They talked about Simon’s family, how happy he was being married to Lucy, and what a lucky escape he had had, not ending up with the love of his young life Carli, he went on and on about his job as purchasing manager in a well known electronics company. Neil was sharing tales of his work at the garage, and Will was remaining fairly quiet.

Dorty Wee Shite - Chapter 3

3 – Initial Contact



Danny Graves had little trouble in actually tracking Will down. He simply phoned one of the directory enquiries services and asked for Will McKenzie. Will received such modest fame for his first book, that he hadn’t bothered to register himself as ex-directory, and as the recent developments had come so quickly, without any forewarning to create such a media furore, he hadn’t had a chance to do anything about it now. It was however very, very high on his list of priorities. Will was also regretting now mentioning on the show how he liked living alone now in the flat he rented in Herne Hill. It had made tracking him down so much easier for all and sundry. Why he had been so specific was beyond him now.,

In a cheerful, yet business like tone, Danny enquired after Will.
“Hello, is that Mr Will McKenzie?”
It was a weary voice that answered. A voice which had evidently been answering the same questions on the phone for longer than desired.
“Yes, it is.”
“How are you?, Are you OK?”
“Yes, I’m fine. I am not having a nervous breakdown, or any other mental collapse if that is what you were about to ask.”
“OK, glad to hear it. Now I’m ringing about your upcoming book.”
“I thought you might be, every phonecall I have had today is about that. So I’m telling you what I have told everybody else. I said all I am going to say at the interview. I have nothing further to add.”
Before Will had a chance to drop the receiver for the umpteenth time on a stranger wanting to talk about this non existent book, Danny managed to make it quite clear that he was not just another press-man looking for an easy story.
“Oh, I think you do young man. I think you have a lot more to add. Most specifically about where that title originated.”
Will tried to suggest that he had just been thinking about a title, and that one simply popped into his mind, but it was soon pointed out that these were not just random words from the regular English dictionary. Each and every one of them was a colloquial term in itself, specifically mis-spelled to give a flavour of their origin. Danny pointed out that even if he had thought these words up, there was virtually no chance that they would be spelt in that particular way as a spur of the moment thought. So he asked once more.
“Where did you get that title?”
Will was put on the defensive once more, and he was getting too exhausted to keep it up.
“OK, I found it late one night while flitting around on the internet. It was a random comment made by somebody. No idea what it was about, the words just seemed to pop out at me.”

Danny was still not convinced that Will was being completely straight and continued.

“Right, so now we are getting closer to the truth aren’t we. So, let’s for a moment assume you are writing a book with the title Dorty Wee Shite. Who is your principle, title character based upon?”
With his shackles getting up, Will retorted,
“Well, I guess I’m basing my central character on myself and……”
But he was cut off, before he could finish what he was saying.
“Good, I’m glad you said that. I think we need to meet, and sooner rather than later. I’ll ring you later in the week, but I’ll give you my name and number now, so that if you need to contact me in the meantime you can.”

Completley thrown off balance, Will grabbed a pencil and sheet of paper, hastily writing down the details as Danny reeled them off to him.

Although he had no idea who he had just spoken to, and Will was half tempted to screw the number and name up to throw in the bin, he had second thoughts, and folded it neatly to slip into his wallet. The thought did cross his mind that for a while at least he should expect to be contacted by newspaper reporters looking for a new angle on the story and nutters just trying to mess with his head on a regular basis, Of course his intention to become ex-directory became top priority. But in the meantime, he had paid to go on this crazy roller coaster ride. He had no choice but to sit tight and let the ride run it’s course. A ride which reminded him, regrettably of a very real roller coaster ride that he had longed for so much when he was a teenager, yet once he had the opportunity, turned into the sort of nightmare that would haunt him for the rest of his days. He hoped beyond hope that this was not heading in the same direction.

Later that night, in the early hours of the morning in fact, Will’s head was filled with bad dreams. From very realistic memories of being bullied, and feeling the chaffing of a well executed wedgie, to far more bizarre and surreal images of being confined to a wheelchair whilst uncouth youngsters hurled tennis ball’s and Frisbees at him. He was tossing and turning, and sweating like a race horse when the final image appeared and woke him with such a start.

There is something quite unsettling about waking up to find a large Scotsman sitting on your chest, with his knees up , revealing quite horribly that your suspicions that Scotsmen really did wear nothing under their kilts was proven without a doubt. Unable to move, Will listend in horror, as this man said.
“Och, so you’re the dorty wee shite I’ve been lookin for all this time?”
Then Will did wake up, that last image, real as it had seemed was thankfully just the final part of a particularly disturbing dream. Unfortunately it was not one of those dreams that just disappeared beyond memory as soon as you awake. For some reason that horrible image had etched itself clearly into his brain, and would remain with him for a long time. There was little chance of getting back to sleep now, and fears of having to go through that dream again put him off from even trying. Will headed downstairs to get a glass of water, and maybe watch a DVD to take his mind off things. Maybe he was after all heading for a breakdown, he’d never had one, and didn’t know how he would know if this was it.

Watching a couple of his favourite Monty Python films had certainly gone some way to clearing out his mind, although visions of that gaping kilt kept popping into his head from time to time, when he let his mind drift. Still, the sun was starting to rise, the skies were clear and it looked as though today was going to be a lovely day. Perhaps all of this had been an extension to his bad dream. With any luck, none of it had really happened, and today, everything would be back to normal. Maybe, if he just carried on as normal, it would all just go away. Today he would go down to visit his dad and step-mum. The drive through the country would help to clear his mind further, and they would be able to bring him back to a sense of reality. He could have phoned first, but thought that it would be a nice surprise for them just to bowl up.




“What in Hell’s name has got into you Will?” were the first words that his father uttered. “We saw you on TV the other night, then tried to ring you, but the phone just rang and rang. I know you can be a bit odd Will, but that was beyond even your normal weirdness. You’re mother’s been worried sick you know, and I don’t need her ringing here day and night to get news about you. Have you spoken to her yet? The news says you’ve had a breakdown, but do you think to ring us? Hmm? Do you?. No, you don’t. You just swan in here as if nothing has happened.”

“Yes, hello to you too Dad”. Will replied. He tried to sound more positive, but just found himself feeling more and more fragile. “I’m sorry about the phone. I had to unplug it, I’ve been getting all manner of loonies and reporters ringing up. So, no, I haven’t spoken to mum yet. I’ll ring her later. I came to find out if this had all been a dream or not. Apparently it hasn’t. Can I come in?”

Old man McKenzies mood mellowed as he said.
“Of course you can come in Will, but try not to be so weird around Susie, You know she’s still not comfortable since that time you walked in on us. We are worried about you, you know”
This brought back another hideous recollection from Will’s memory in which he walked into his fathers kitchen to witness his step mother trussed up like a Christmas turkey on the kitchen table, whilst his father, wearing nothing more than a chefs hat approached her with a bowl of raw egg and a spatula. Will was only grateful he hadn’t opened the door a minute or two later, as the scene could well have been far more disturbing. As it was he had not been able to face a full English breakfast since that day.

“I know dad, I know. I’m a bit worried myself if I’m honest. I’m not a kid anymore, but I do appreciate your concern.”


Once they were all sat down with a cup of tea in the lounge, they could at last relax and try to get things straight. Will explained that he had been backed into a corner on Percy Kirkhams show, and that Percy was attempting to show him up as being a loser amongst so many of his peers who had obviously made it. His father could understand why he wanted to ensure he didn’t get branded as a has been, or even worse as a ‘ never really was.’ What he couldn’t understand though was where this title had come from.
“Why on earth are you calling the novel Dorty Wee Shite”? Where did that name come from?”
Again, Will was put in the position of having to defend his title.
“I had to say something, I haven’t really started seriously working on the book. I had been mulling with the idea of using that title, but it just kind of blurted out in the TV studio. Now I guess I’m stuck with it.”

Before the discussion could become heated again, or get over complicated, the phone rang. Susie answered it.
“Yes…. Hello….That’s right, this is Mrs McKenzie…… No, Will doesn’t live here….. Oh, yes, OK, well he is visiting. I’ll tell him you are on the phone”

Even here, in the supposed sanctuary of his fathers home, phonecalls were coming through, although this was the first one. The man at the end of the phone explained it was very important, he had been trying to phone Will for a night or two, and that this was not a cold call but one Will was expecting.

Although he had half expected a follow up call from Mr Graves, he had no expectation that he would be tracked down wherever he travelled.

“You, Mr McKenzie are becoming quite elusive. Perhaps I should explain a little about who I am, and why it is so important, for both of us, that we meet.”
Although the words seemed hostile and threatening, Mr Graves actually came across as a reasonably amiable man.
“The thing is Mr McKenzie” Danny continued “the title you have plucked out of the air to put on your novel, is actually the title of the book I’m writing myself. The title is very important to me, and I’m sure you’ll agree was, up until the recent turn of events quite unique.”
Will tried to interupt. “I didn’t mean to steal your title, Mr Graves, but the problem is….”
“The problem is Will, that it has now been blurted out nation wide, possibly even worldwide, that the particular unique title is one that you have claimed for yourself. It is going to be very difficult for either of us to work this thing out. But, that is exactly what we are going to have to try doing. So, we need to meet OK?”

Will was, quite understandably nervous of coming face to face with this man, who still came across as a slightly creepy stalker.
“OK, we’ll meet, but it has to be in a very public place.”
“That’s fine by me, perfect in fact. Will the Roxbury night club suit? It’s very popular, it’s in the middle of a town centre which is not local to either of us, but it’s not too far for either of us to travel either. Meet at nine thirty.”
That all sounded fair enough to Will. He wasn’t really scared, but would confess to being a little uneasy still.
“Oh, and one other thing Will. You have to come prepared to piss on the dance floor”
Will was once again quite stunned at this statement. Danny Graves had only spoken to him a couple of times, and on both occasions had managed to throw Will completely off track.
“I beg your pardon? You want me to” He lowered his voice to a whisper so that neither his father nor Susie would hear “Piss on the floor. In the club?” Are you mad?”

“No Will, I’m not mad, but nor am I the one trying to claim the title of Dorty Wee Shite. So I’ll see you at the Roxbury tonight. See you later”

Of all his old mates, it was still his old school friend Simon that Will kept in touch with. He had lost contact with Neil and Jay soon after starting Univeristy, but as Simon was following a similar course, albeit a lesser renowned seat of learning, they had remained in contact. It was at times like these, when life was taking a turn for the weirder than usual, that Will really needed the support of Simon. Of course on this occasion, the weirdness of it all outweighed anything that they had gone through before. He rang Simons number, and was relieved to hear his familiar voice.

“Simon, I’m so glad you’re there” Will started. “ I could really do with your help. What are you and Lucy up to?”
“Hi Will, we’re off to Lucy’s folks house tonight. What’s up?”
Will explained his current predicament, which Simon laughed about, but did say that although he couldn’t be there he would Ring Will later on during the night to either make sure he was OK, or to give him an excuse to make his excuses and move on. It wasn’t exactly what Will had wanted, but at least it was better than nothing, and gave him a little peace of mind.



So Will’s suspicion that Danny Graves was a bit weird had definitely been confirmed, yet at the same time he was quite intrigued, and would certainly be at the Roxbury.


Will had no idea how he would recognise Danny Graves, although he had no doubt in his mind that Danny would find him without too much trouble. Sure enough, a likeable looking gentleman dressed in smart chino trousers, shirt and tie wandered up to him and introduced himself. He looked quite out of place in this nightclub full of late teens and early twenty somethings, wearing their jeans and tee-shirts. He was dressed like a bouncer, but had the build of an accountant.

“Hello Will”, he said, offering his hand to shake. “I’m Danny Graves, pleased to meet you. Now, what would you like to drink?”

Will had a pint of lager, whilst Danny opted for a pint of blackcurrant and lemonade. Whatever Will had expected of Danny, this was not it. He did not fit any of the images he had built up in his mind, nor did he act in any way which would indicate the strangeness of his phonecalls. They drank their drinks and made general small talk, commenting on the way the youngsters were dressed, how they danced, and basically chatting about how things had moved on when they were younger. After all his previous worries, Danny now appeared to be a perfectly normal middle aged man. He looked a bit out of place in this club, partially due to his age, and of course partially because of the way he had dressed, but in all honesty, not unlike most other men of his age would probably dress for a night out. But then, out of the blue he said.

“Are you ready to piss on the floor then?”

Once again, Will found himself lost for words. He had taken the original request as a bit of a joke, an intellectual challenge to see if he would be prepared, but not actually go through with the act. A little bit like the long route marches and runs that the parachute regiment have to endure, when they think they have finished a really long run, only to be told that they then have to continue for another few miles, only to be told just round the corner, that it’s OK, the test is finished, and that the last order was only made to see if they were prepared to continue.


“You mean you really intend for me to piss on the dance floor? I thought you were joking” Will stammered.
“Well of course I meant it. You want to use the Dorty Wee Shite title, I think you ought to earn it, as I did, don’t you?” Danny response was calm and measured.
Will tried to counter it, by calling Danny’s bluff. “Well, OK then, but only if you are also prepared to do it. Does that sound fair?”
“Yes, of course it sounds fair, I’m surprised you didn’t suggest it earlier, and I indeed am quite prepared to piss on the floor, but this is my challenge, so you go first.”

Will resigned himself to this challenge, but thought about bending the rules slightly
“Can I do it any way I chose then?”
Danny agreed, and also agreed that Will could use a pint glass first, then pour it onto the floor. He was not surprised when Will picked up an empty glass and headed towards the gents toilets. Nor was he surprised when one of the clubs security team put his arm out, blocking the door to the toilet, before Will went in.

“I’m sorry sir” he said to Will, “I’m afraid you can’t take that glass in the toilets”
“But somebody might take it”
“Yes sir, there is a very good chance of that, especially considering the glass is empty. Now if there had been drink in it, you could have left it on the table there with the others to collect on your way out. But it is empty.”

Once again, Will was cornered. He needed to pee now, but he couldn’t waste it in the toilet, nor could he just walk off with his empty glass, as that would only make the bouncer suspicious. He was left with no other choice but to go into the toilet and wait for a minute or two, then go back to Danny. So he went in, and glanced around the room, he was not quite alone. Another man was also standing across the room, obviously waiting for somebody, and the cubicle was already occupied. Neither made any attempt to move toward either the urinals or the door, until the other man spoke to Will, “Hello there. Have you come in to do anything, or are you just here for the scenery?” The mans voice was somewhat effeminate, whether it was being put on as a stereotypical gay humour, or was indeed genuine Will could not be sure. “I can’t go when anybody else is about” He said.
“Oh, dear, you poor man you - You won’t get a chance in this club then, it’s like Piccadilly Circus in here, really it is.”

Sure enough a steady stream of men were going in and out of the toilets. The sounds of which really didn’t help Will’s bladder, and he found himself sorely tempted to just relieve himself. Admit defeat, and maybe try again later. It was a temptation he could resist no longer. Although having his new friend insisting on standing next to him and continuing to chat didn’t help.

“There, that wasn’t as hard as you thought it would be was it? I could help you make it harder if you like.”

Will was so pleased that he had managed to make yet another creepy friend. Suddenly it occurred to him that his entire life was being made a mockery of. He really had no idea why the powers that be were throwing all this at him. Just when he thought this could not get any worse, the inevitable happened. It did get worse. The cubicle door opened.
“I thought I heard your voice Nigel” said the man as he came out “Who are you talking to?”
The newcomer was a face Will remembered well, a voice that once heard could not be forgotten, a man Will had once referred to as a Bumder, in his own home. How on earth had fate let Will bump into his old mate Neils dad after all this time, and tonight of all nights.
“You took tour time Kevin” replied Wills new friend “ I don’t know this sweet young man’s name, but he’s very shy.”
Kevin looked straight at Will, and recognised him straight away. “Hello. I remember you. You’re Neils friend aren’t you? Simon wasn’t it”
“Hello Mr Sutherland, yes, I was Neils friend at school. I’m Will, not Simon though. So what is Neil up to these days.”
“Oh he still lives with me. He works with his cousin at the garage on Cottage Road would you like our number or do you still have it?”
“I might as well take it please, it’d be nice to catch up again” said Will. Laughing he added “It would be just my luck at the moment for somebody to come in and think I’m collecting phone numbers for sexual purposes.”
Somewhat offended Kevin said “But you know I’m not gay William”
“Oh I know that Mr Sutherland, you’ve always said that, but I feel fairly confident in my assumption that Nigel is” countered Will
“He might not be.”
“Might not be?” repeated Will dumfounded “I may be a little naïve, but when a man offers to make another mans cock hard whilst watching him have a wee, I’d say that is a little bit gay.”
With little more to say, Kevin handed over Neils phone number, and all three left the toilets. Will felt a little uncomfortable all leaving together, but also thought it would be rude to suggest otherwise.

He made his way back to admit his failure to Danny. But was actually quite looking forward to speaking to Neil after such a long time. At least he was confident that he could still feel superior to Neil, he may even be able to help him out on this strange challenge.

Danny gave a look of mock surprise when he was told about the bouncer taking the glass away, and agreed to show Will how to do it first, but before that they would get some more drinks. This time, Danny suggested they get a couple of girls to buy the drinks for them. Then picked a couple out who were obviously on their own, so the pair wandered over to them on the dance floor.
Danny spoke first.
“Hello, you look a bit lost , can I perhaps show you the way to a table”
“No, it’s alright grandad, you’re the one who looks a bit lost.”
“Really? You mean this isn’t the Friends of Porter Hospital Social club? - Oh dear, I wondered why I hadn’t heard anything I knew, perhaps it’s you who should be helping me then.”
The girls had quickly dropped their defensive stance, and were giggling at Danny’s strange, yet not unfriendly humour, and in fact played up to it slightly.
“Of course we can help you out grandad, what do you want?”
“Oh, thank you, I’ll have a blackcurrant and lemonade, and Will here will have a Lager, that’s very kind of you”
“Here, cheeky, shouldn’t you be buying us drinks?”
“No I don’t think so, that would only be if we intended to take you home, and let’s be honest, you’re both a bit young for us.”
The girls couldn’t help but agree with that, admitted defeat, and one of them went off to the bar, whilst the other one stayed to chat with Will and Danny. Will was impressed by the way Danny engaged the girl, Carol in conversation, and kept eye contact almost constantly.
It was only when Heather returned with the drinks that any of the others, excepting Danny of course were aware that anything untoward had occurred.
She walked up, and stepped in a puddle which splashed up over her shoe, and also splashed onto the others.
“Urgh. Why are you all standing in this drink?” she said
Danny tutted, and suggested that somebody must have spilled a drink. They must have been so lost in conversation that they hadn’t noticed, they walked off the dance floor together. The girls hadn’t noticed that there was no glass with the drink, or supposed drink on the floor, but that fact had not been lost on Will.
They thanked the girls for the drinks, and wished them all the best in their hunt for some younger boys, then moved on.
“You did that didn’t you?” Will said to Danny. It was more of a statement than a question.
“Yes, and I’ll let you into the secret of how to do it next time we meet. I think we’ll call it a night there. I don’t think you quite earned your title yet, but I’m sure you’ll show promise with a little training. Perhaps we’ll start with something a little easier next time shall we? Have you had fun tonight Will?” Danny asked.

He would hardly have called the night fun, but Will had to admit it had not been an altogether unpleasant evening. Danny was a pleasant enough chap to be around, even if his ideas were poles apart from Wills own, it had also given him the opportunity to get back in touch with another of his oldest friends, and one who may also be able to help sort out this horrible mess.

With that, they made their way out of the club, and each headed for home.

Dorty Wee Shite - Chapter 2

2 - Dorty Wee Shite by Will McKenzie


Will McKenzie was also a frustrated writer, although perhaps not as frustrated as others in his league. He did already have a book to his name. A couple of years previously he had written a semi-autobiographical account of his life growing up in a middle class home, and the privileges that it had entitled him to. It described the break down of his parents marriage, and the subsequent move to a comprehensive school, and how he had still managed to come away with sufficient qualifications to go on to university despite the best efforts of his school mates. His Book “Making The Grade” had enjoyed some moderate success, certainly amongst others who had come up through the same sort of educational system. He had sailed through his degree with flying colours and gone on to do rather well at university. In his book he detailed his mastery of chess, his prowess on the squash courts and even his reasonable efforts at learning to ride a horse, alongside his academic achievements. He also wrote about the achievements of the students he lived and worked alongside during his university days, and delved briefly into their achievements just after University life.

Although pleased with his acceptance as a writer, Will was also a little down hearted about it. He had tried too hard to please his parents, his father especially, as it was his approval he particularly wanted, as he had always considered Will to be something of an odd-ball, and awkward in normal social circles. Therefore he did not mention in anyway, some of the events which he felt they would not approve of, or even worse, which would have confirmed Wills fathers concerns about his awkwardness around people.

Even at the age of twenty nine, Will felt that he could not do anything which may have an adverse affect on his relationship with mummy and daddy. As a result, his first published work came out sounding a little cold hearted, and made Will appear to be something of an upper-class twit. Ironic really considering that was exactly what he had tried so hard during his school years, not to be. Even he could see that, after reading it, he came across as one of those people who had lived off his fathers wealth, and not really made any great contributions to life. Perhaps in some respects that was true. It was certainly true that during his university years, and immediately afterwards, Wills relationship with his father and step-mother had improved drastically, to the point where he spent equal time with him as he did with his mother. His father had even provided Will with the right contacts in the publishing world to enable him to get his book into print. Most of the funding as well if truth be known.


For his next book, Will wanted to explore some of his darker secrets, Some of the sillier antics of college and university life, maybe even stories from his youth spent with the school friends he had been thrown together with when his parents split up. Friends who unbeknownst to him would make this very difficult period of his life, also the most fun. He would tell tales of some of the girls he had shared time with, both on and off campus, of parties and student high jinx. He was sure that his parents would be OK with it, as long as he published the story as a purely fictional piece, which also gave him the opportunity to embellish the truth, and include some of the antics which were from other students. He was after all, now an accepted writer, and once the doors have been opened, it would take a lot less effort to open them again.

He had the basic plotline drawn out, he also had a reasonable idea of how the major elements of his story would fit in. All he was missing though was a catchy title. His first idea “Campus Antics” just wouldn’t quite cut it. For one thing it would limit where he could take the story, but it would also identify it to himself a little too closely, he did after all, want to base this novel on another person.

Nothing would come to mind, and for days he continually scribbled ideas onto scraps of paper, only to screw them up and throw them in the bin moments later. One evening, he had virtually given up on working out a title, and to relax, he decided to surf the web for a while. It was of course whilst idly browsing around, that three words just seemed to strike him, it was just three words which leapt out at him from a random comment on a blog. He didn’t even stop to read the rest of the blog, or even the comment, the three words were perfect. He just had to turn the computer off and start stringing ideas together to make it fit with his second story.

And so, Dorty Wee Shite was born. Again


It was quite fortunate that Will had at last arrived at a title on which he could pin his novel, because an opportunity for some free publicity just came out of the blue. One of the students from his university had become front page news. He had received an MBE for services to the Youth of Britain. Although not somebody Will was all that close to during his university days, Tony had become something of a sporting celebrity. He represented England at the Olympic games in archery, soon after leaving University, and was now very active in teaching underprivileged youngsters archery. In this capacity he had been given a mention in Making The Grade, and now, to be in the Queens honours list, it was evident he had made the grade.
Tony had been asked to participate in a TV chat show, and would be joined by a couple of other past students that had made the grade. Of course amongst them was Will.

At the studios, it soon became apparent that the other invited guests had all made some pretty major achievements since leaving university. Not only had they made significant achievements, but all were also involved in current important projects. A doctor was involved with a team that were currently researching possible cures for influenza, research that had led the medical profession to entirely change it’s attitude to flu, because it would now be possible to use a single drug to eradicate all strains of it, rather than only be able to counter one or two variants at a time. A well known architect who had been in the same chess club as Will was undertaking one of the most ambitious schemes in recent times. He had been commissioned by one of the leading financial organizations to design and build a new London headquarters, which would become one of the landmarks of the city.

Then there was Will. One book to his name, and to be honest, nothing much to speak of since. He knew he would be asked, so had to be prepared, although he was now having second thoughts about the suitability of his new found title. But too late, the interviewer turned to him and asked.

“So Will, following the success you received for Making The Grade, you seem to have drifted into obscurity” then to a ripple of gentle laughter added “so does that mean you did in fact not make the grade?”

Surely he hadn’t been brought into this programme, to be ridiculed, to be measured against this collection of obviously super brilliant people. After all, modest as it had been, authoring that book had been some sort of achievement. There were plenty of other university graduates that had achieved less. Some were in good city jobs, or like his old school friend Simon, who had also gone on to a university education held middle management positions, so had done OK for themselves, but were, in comparison, equal in achievement to Will. Why had they not been brought in to answer for not taking over their company, or setting the world alight with some huge financial breakthrough on the stock markets. Surely by most accounts, they had also been swallowed up in mediocrity even more than he had. Still, the fact was, they had not. He was there, and the question had been asked, the gauntlet dropped, and it was for him to say something in his defence.

“Actually Mr Kirklan, I have been working on something. I haven’t just been idle these past few years. Just because a writer appears to be dormant, doesn’t mean they are not thinking or working on something in the back ground. You can’t just turn out books like a chicken farmer turns out eggs you know.” As soon as those words left his lips, Will suddenly knew, that once again he had let his mouth turn the people around nearby against him. Only the week before Percy Kirkham had torn a chicken farmer to shreds over allegations that the treatment of his fowl was even below the appalling conditons that battery hens were normally subjected to. Only this time, nearby included half the TV viewing public of the UK, and not just a handful of people within earshot.

For once in his long career, Percy Kirklan was somewhat taken aback, normally his witty banter to an unsuspecting guest left them lost for words, and stumbling. He had to find a comeback and quickly. He was really not prepared for this development. His planned interview was to discuss what normal life was like for Will since his brief encounter with celebrity, but now it had taken a different route.

“So what is this new novel about?”

Will also had to think quick, this was like a mental game of squash, as each tried to outsmart the other, and neither knowing exactly what the other would come back with. In fact, if truth be known, Will didn’t know what he would come back with himself. He was after all making most of this up on the fly.

“It’s about a young man’s progression through the darker underbelly of the educational system, and how he copes with it.”

“Oh, so it’s a re-hash of your last book, but with the passing of time written from the viewpoint of a bitter and twisted under achiever?” Once again, this obvious put down was met with laughter from the audience. “So what is this new novel called”

Will was cornered. He hadn’t really decided that his working title was right for this project, but then neither could he admit that he didn’t have a title, as that would indicate this was a project at the very earliest stages. Once again, his answer was met with a stunned silence from the audience, the other guests and of course Percy Kirklan.

“The book is called Dorty Wee Shite, and in answer to your other question, No, it is not a rehash of my last book, it is a fictional novel, and totally unrelated to Making the Grade.”

Such was the venom in Will’s delivery, that the uncomfortable pause lasted a little longer than would normally be acceptable. In this instance though it did allow the title to sink in with everybody. It emphasized the tensness in the air. At this point, the other guests, regardless of their importance in the public eye, had been reduced to insignificant bystanders as Will and Percy continued their intellectual brawl.

Percy broke the silence. “Dorty Wee Shite, now that is a very unusual title, especially coming from somebody with such a middle class up-bringing as yourself. Can you tell us a little more about it then?”

It may have appeared that Will had lost the battle at this point, as he stood up, and said quite clearly. “No, I’m afraid I have already said too much. Now if you’ll excuse me, I do have rather a lot of work to do.”
And with that, he removed his studio microphone and walked off-set. Leaving Percy Kirkam, his collective guests and a studio audience in stunned silence.

Percy knew that those last words were a sure fire winner. No witty comeback would appear as anything other than an attempt to get in the last word. He therefore did the dignified thing and allowed Will the same dignity by saying politely to the audience.


“A round of applause please for Mr Will McKenzie, author of Making The Grade, and at last we can look forward to his new novel Dorty Wee Shite.”

Now, not only had Dorty Wee Shite been born, it had been unleashed…again!



Although Will had left the studio, the aftershock of his his comments were still making ripples, and the conversation with the remaining guests gravitated toward that subject.

“So doctor Brown, while you were at university, did you encounter any dorty wee shites?”

“I’m sure I must have, but to be honest, I can’t remember any specific incidents”

“and what about you Glen? – You played chess with Will, did he at any time strike you as being a dorty wee shite?”

“Well, not exactly, no. A couple of little pranks perhaps, but nothing springs to mind as standing out. I have to say though, I’m quite intrigued by it. It’s not normally the sort of book I would pick up, but I will certainly get a copy of Dorty Wee Shite when it reaches the shelves.”

The whole programme had suddenly become a massive advertisement for the book. The book that didn’t in fact even exist yet, other than in the form of some roughly made notes and an outline of a plot. Like a chapter from his youth, Will had allowed his mouth to utter a few ill timed words, which although he didn’t yet know it, would send his life into turmoil.


The whole country watched the Percy Kirkham show, and last nights show had really grabbed the attention of the nation. Some semi known writer had thrown a bit of a wobbly and stormed out, and the words dorty wee shite seemed to be included in every other comment made during the show. If anybody had missed the airing of the interview, then it was thrust upon them again the next day, as the news programmes had picked up on it, and there was rumour abound that Will McKenzie had started to suffer a mental meltdown on air during the show.

Danny Graves had been watching the show the night before and almost choked on his tea and biscuits. Then just sat, open mouthed and stunned as the revelations unfolded. He couldn’t quite take it all in. it wasn’t as if the three words were in common useage. Which could mean that a matching title to his own may be purely coincidental. Titles such as “How Too Look After Your Goldfish”, “The Wonderful World Of Meerkats” or even “Lions in Regent Park” could quite feasibly be chosen by two independently working authors. But “Dorty Wee Shite”? – There is no way two people would arrive at that combination of words without one of them plagiarizing it from the other. Danny knew he had not stolen it, because it was his title. Not just the title of his proposed book, but a name he had earned during his own youth. His title, the one he earned alongside a group of like minded frined He was, quite understandably a bit cross.

When it was broadcast again the next day on the national news, he was furious. He was tempted to threaten Will McKenzie with legal action, but that was a bit of a knee jerk reaction. He did know that in reality, neither of them really had a leg to stand on until one of them had published, or at least had documentary proof that their work had been submitted to a publishing house with that title.


Going the legal route, didn’t really appeal to Danny’s sense of humour either. It was a bit boring an official, he could have much more fun playing with this pompous young graduates mind for a while. As he sat there, he started formulating a plan. Then it came to him. He would contact this Will McKenzie, and see if he could live up to his self appointed title of dorty wee shite, or would he pale into insignificance against the undisputed king of the gross, Danny Graves?

Dorty Wee Shite - Chapter 1

1 - Dorty Wee Shite by Danny Graves

Danny Graves was one of the thousands of frustrated writers in the World. At the ripe old age of forty he had stories to tell, tales of his wild, mis-spent youth, which were now gradually becoming faded memories. As the world became smaller, with the growing acceptance of the world wide web, he found he could write some of them up in a blog. Then he discovered social networking sites, which not only gave him a forum to re-live some of his old tales, but also gave him the opportunity to discover some of the old friends he had lost contact with over the passing decades.

His anecdotes were, mostly quite disgusting, but written in a way which made them funnier and in some way unacceptably acceptable. As each anecdote came forth, somebody would comment on it saying how it had made them blow coffee through their nose, or spit all over their computer screen or accidentally do a bit of wee on their office chair - all because they had been laughing so much. These sort of comments gave Danny a wonderful feeling. He also got comments from the old friends. His tales brought back memories, prompting them to send messages such as:
“Oh God Dave, I remember that night like it was yesterday. Do you remember later that night we ended up in the Chinese restaurant?”
Which of course sent Danny’s mind racing back to another comic tale which he had forgotten himself. The whole cycle was like a perpetual motion engine, as each recollection spawned yet more, either from himself, or from one of his old mates.

Of course as things continued in this vain for some time, a couple of people, friends past, and people he had met on the net suggested that he ought to commit these rather unpleasant recollections to print, and write a book. Although the idea had some appeal, and something that Danny had contemplated in the past, it was not something he had ever seriously considered. He had no idea how to go about getting his ideas in front of a publisher, let alone have them accepted. The seed however had now been planted by somebody else, and not just one somebody, but several. As the idea was bandied around the website, more and more people agreed that a book would be a good idea.

So, for the first time in his life, Danny was giving very serious consideration to putting his memoirs out there for all to see. He had enough material to fill a book, that was for sure, but he had to come up with a name for it. Nothing seemed to fit. This was just such a weird collection of apparently random anecdotes, that no titles really grabbed him.
Then all of a sudden, whilst sitting on the toilet, where incidentally, so many brilliant ideas are formulated, but seldom credited as, it came to him. Partially because he was straining a little, but partially because of a memory he had of once being called it.

Many years ago at a party, he had dunked his dick into his own drink and said that it was to stop anybody else from wanting to steal his pint. A Scottish mate had been with him and commented.
“Och, yer a dorty wee shite!, which of course everybody at the time agreed with, and so the name stuck.

Dorty Wee Shite was born.

So excited was he by the prospect of putting this lot together under such a great banner that he had to let everybody know about his project. He posted his proposed title onto his blog, and straight away comments started coming in congratulating him on this fantastic idea.

Now, not only was Dorty Wee Shite born, it was unleashed.