Memories of Hepworths, Alloa

At the age of 15, I resided in the fine toun of Sauchie,
Some few miles from the metropolis of Alloa.
At the time, I had befriended wee Dougie McFooter
Wee Dougie, was, as they would say nowadays, vertically challenged
Being only four feet eight and a half inches tall,
(The half inch being very important.)
Dougie was, in addition, humphy-backit, as they say in the Alloa vernacular
Which is to say that he had a curvature of the spine.
However, he was very well-endowed in the lower trouser department,
And therefore very popular with the local lassies.

Having reached the age when all young lads desire a made-to-measure suit,
Dougie and myself repaired to Hepworths, the budget men's outfitter
In the High Street, where a fine garment could be fitted to the bodily contours
For a mere pittance. Entering the shop, we approached the shiny mahogany counter.
Dougie spoke first: "Excuse me pal," he whispered in his nasal whine,
"Hev you goat a suit tae fit me?"

There was a pause as the assistant looked
At Dougie's twisted frame. Then he spoke: "I hope no'," he said, "or some bugger
Will be getting his books!".
This fine 'bon mot', an example of Alloa humour, did not amuse Dougie.
Reaching across the counter, he grabbed the fellow firmly
By the two-inch lapels of his worsted pinstripe, and
Jumping nimbly onto a conveniently situated stool,
Nutted him firmly on the neb. The assistant howled as his nose
Burst, like an overripe tomato, cascading a mixture of blood and snotters
Across the counter. Deftly, Dougie removed the personalised, inside leg
Measuring tape from around his shoulders, and knotted it firmly around the fellow's
Neck. His face became a fine aubergine shade, and he collapsed, gurgling
Upon a bale of recently-arrived Italian check wool-mixture.

"C'moan," snarled Dougie, "Let's get the bus tae fuckin' Burton's!"

Meekly, I followed in his wake as he hirpled out of the shop,
Leaving the brass bell fatuously chiming over the scene
Of bloody chaos.