Community Service Ch. 04

"Don't mind if we join you, do you, David?" said Mrs Newlove, and I nearly choked on my second sip of lager, as she and Gina Stainham put their own halves of lager down on our table and sat down opposite John and I.

*

"Hello, John," said Mrs Newlove pleasantly. "Got some time off from the rig, then, have you? Has David been telling you all about his first day, working as a community servant? About being made to earn his dole money ... in the Sock Room? Heh heh heh."

"He's been telling me all about your famous big mouth, Mrs Newlove, that's what he's been telling me about!" said John hotly. "Not that I need telling - I know you of old! You are a malicious mouthed, mean spirited, trouble making—"

"John! John!" I said in low-voiced urgency. "Leave it out, eh? You're just making things worse for me. She's making my life a misery as it is - her and Gina. You've no idea!"

Sitting opposite John, Gina Stainham said to him, "Oh, we had a lovely day out today, Norma and me ... watching David hard at work, in the Sock Room. It was more entertaining than the cinema, ha ha ha! Has he told you about it - about hand-washing all of those girls' and women's dirty socks? Ah ... it gives me a lovely warm glow inside, knowing that David is going to be hand-washing all of my dirty socks for me in future."

"Ha ha ha ha!" laughed Mrs Newlove. "Yes! And mine, too! And David had better get used to it too, because he's going to be doing it for years - who's going to give the likes of him a job?"

"No one with any sense, Norma, that's for sure," opined Gina Stainham disdainfully. "They would have to be extremely hard-up, that's all I can say."

"Yes, Gina," agreed Mrs Newlove. "They would really be scraping the bottom of the barrel, wouldn't they ... and getting the dregs."

"Oh, you two really make me ... you make a fine pair," said John ironically, in failing to think of an off-the-cuff insult that would paint them black enough. "You claim every benefit allowance under the sun, and do nothing but sit on your fat—"

"Oh," interjected Mrs Newlove, "and I had David's supervisors cane his bare bum - chastise him - for disrespecting me ... Aw, diddums, the poor thing was bawling his eyes out. Did he tell you, John ...? Ha ha ha! I can see by the look on your face, that he hasn't! Well, I don't think he'll be speaking out of turn to me again, any time soon. Let's put it that way. And - ha ha ha! - best of all ... did David tell you, John, that while he was handcuffed to the foot of my recliner, and having his bare bum caned by his supervisors, I made him - ha ha ha ha!! - 'pre-wash' my dirty socks? I pulled my dirty socks inside out, and I stuffed them both into his—"

"Come on, John, let's go," I said. "Let's get out of here."

"Ha ha ha ha!" guffawed Mrs Newlove and Gina Stainham, as John and I abruptly got up and left the table. John and I looked back, to see the uproariously laughing Mrs Newlove and Gina Stainham topping up their glasses from our barely touched pints of lager. Then, before John and I could turn away in disgust, they raised their topped-up glasses and, in unison, made sardonic toasts to us. "Cheers, dears! Ha ha ha ha!"

"See you tomorrow, David - in the Sock Room. Ha ha ha ha ha!" was Gina Stainham's parting shot.

"Me, too, David - Mum's got the kids," Mrs Newlove informed me. "And you can 'pre-wash' these, for me. Ha ha ha ha ha!" she laughed, as she quickly pulled off her trainers, and propped her white-socked feet on the table, ankles crossed. There were grey, damp-looking patches, I saw, on the soles of her white cotton socks. And the actions of her repeatedly scrunching toes were causing the grey, damp-looking areas to intermittently darken further, at the balls of her feet, and under her toes, as the cotton material folded and creased.

"Ugh!" said John. "Yes - come on, Dave. Let's get the hell out of here."

On the Juke Box, Bob Geldof was peevishly complaining that he didn't like Mondays.

No - and you are not the only one, Bob, I said under my breath as I hastened through the exit doors of the Lord Nelson.

* * *

Back at home, over a cup of coffee in the kitchen, John said, "Well, Dave, I see what you mean now, about giving Mum the abridged version of what it's like in the Sock Room. It must be an absolute nightmare in there, with the likes of Norma Newlove and Gina Stainham plaguing you."

"Oh, it is, John, it is," I said wretchedly. "And a lot of the girls and women are like them - you'd be surprised, how many. Gloating, and coming over all haughty, and arrogant, and smug-faced, because they know that I'm going to be hand-washing their dirty socks. Loving it, that they can inflict such dreadful drudgery upon me on a daily basis. Loving it, that they can waltz into the Sock Room and make my life a misery; that they can come swanning in there, and give me a right load of grief - torment the hell out of me, with impunity. Laughing at me, deriding me, and mocking me with their eyes, as they leave their dirty socks for me. Looking down on me - their sock-washing skivvy.

"And there are actually recliners in the Sock Room - four of them - can you believe that, John? For the girls and women to relax, as they watch me slaving away, laundering their dirty socks to a high standard. Believe me, John: the Sock Room brings out the bitch in them. Outright cruel, some of them are - the things that they'll say, and do. And Mrs Newlove is right: the way things are going, I am going to be stuck in the Sock Room for years."

"Well, maybe not ..."

"What? What are you on about, John? What do you mean?"

"Well, Dave, I've been thinking: I mean, just don't go back - to the Sock Room. I mean, if you didn't; if you didn't go in tomorrow ... what's the worst, that could happen?"

At John's very suggestion - "just don't go back" - I felt a thousand tons of woes slipping from my shoulders. The answer really did seem that incredibly simple, and that blatantly obvious.

"You - you're right, John! I just won't go back! Sod them - sod them all! Sod C.S.O.'s Karen and Linda! Sod the Community Service Liaison Officer, Harriet Harmman! Sod Theresa Maynard! And sod Caroline Flynt, and her so-called brainchild - her sodding Sock Room! Yes! You're right, John. I just won't go back - to the Sock Room. How come I didn't think of it? After all, like you say ... what's the worst, that could happen?"

*

When I went to bed, I fell into a deep, trouble-free sleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow, and I slept like the proverbial baby ... Until, according to my bedside digital clock: 08:20 ...

"Community servant David double-oh-seven! Out of bed, and into your uniform! Now! And I mean, NOW!" shrieked C.S.O. Karen, right in my face.

What, the ...? Talk about a rude awakening! As though materialising out of the ether, like the dark angels of chastisement that they were, it was C.S.O.'s Karen and Linda!

Lying on my stomach, to protect my still-sore bottom from the painful friction, I pulled my duvet over my head to protect my ears, too.

"You're trespassing! How dare you!" I yelled, outraged. "And how did you get in?" I demanded. I knew Mum and Dad couldn't have let them in, because they would already have left for their florist shop in town.

"With these, community servant David," said C.S.O. Karen, smugly jangling something shiny in front of my eyes. "Skeleton keys. We can let ourselves into any property we want, with these little beauties," she told me. "And we're not trespassing. We are Community Service Officers, conducting the business of the Authoritarian Female Party. That's how we dare!"

"Well, you're wasting your time. I'm not going back to the Sock Room - today, or any other day. So you can sod off - the pair of you!"

"Oh ... is that right?" said C.S.O. Linda menacingly. "Well, we'll see about that!" she said, snatching my duvet from by bed, and uncovering my bare-assed body. "Miss Karen just gave you an explicit order, double-oh-seven, didn't she? Out of bed, and into your uniform - now!"

"And I just told you, didn't I? I'm not going back to the Sock Room - not today, or any other day. So you can both get lost - go take a running jump! Oh, and if you don't mind, close the door after you ... I'm going back to sleep."

Whoo! Whoo! Crack! Crack!

"So ... you are not reporting to the Sock Room, as per your officially assigned duties, are you, community servant David?" said C.S.O. Karen.

"Aaaahhhh! Aaaaaahhhhhh!!" I yelled, as C.S.O.'s Karen and Linda's whippy, A.F.P. issue canes smacked into my exposed, and still sore bare buttocks. But I didn't want to get up in front of them. I didn't want them to ... see me.

Whoo! Whoo! Crack! Crack!

"Tell Miss Karen and me to sod off, will you, double-oh-seven?" said C.S.O. Linda. "And, after you promised to keep a civil tongue in your head, too. Tut tut."

"Aaaahhhh! Aaaaaahhhhhh!!" I wailed, as C.S.O.'s Karen and Linda's savagely flailing canes reawakened my heinous agonies of the previous day. "All right! All right! Stop! Stop!" I yelled.

I'd had enough ... I knew I was beat.

Whoo! Whoo! Crack! Crack!

"Dare to defy us, will you, community servant David?" said C.S.O. Karen. "That comes with consequences. Now, for the last time: I am ordering you to get out of bed, and into your community servant's uniform! And hurry up!"

"Aaaahhhh! Aaaaaahhhhhh!!" I roared, as much from outrage this time, as from pain. "All right! I said all right! Didn't I? I'm coming! I'm coming!"

Whoo! Whoo! Crack! Crack!

"All right, what ...?" said C.S.O. Karen ...

"Aaaahhhh! Aaaaaahhhhhh!!" I moaned, in my hideous torment. I knew what C.S.O. Karen meant. But I didn't want to pathetically capitulate. I didn't want to humbly bow, didn't want to say the humiliating words - didn't want to see her bask in triumphant satisfaction.

Whoo! Whoo! Crack! Crack!

"All right, WHAT ...?" demanded C.S.O. Linda.

"Aaaahhhh! Aaaaaahhhhhh!! ... All - all right ... Miss Karen ... And Miss Linda," I said through gritted teeth.

"You are a fool to yourself, double-oh-seven," C.S.O. Linda told me. "You will answer to Miss Karen and me, for this morning's little episode. And you have just earned yourself an audition with the Community Service Liaison Officer - remember her? She is not going to be happy."

"And all the while," said C.S.O. Karen hotly, "your work in the Sock Room will be building up, and getting out of control."

"Yes, it will!" agreed C.S.O. Linda, just as heated as her colleague. "So you will have to work through your lunch break today - on my orders!"

Whoo! Crack!

"Say: Yes, Miss Linda!" commanded C.S.O. Linda waspishly.

"Yes, Miss Linda!" I wailed in agonised defeat, my capitulation complete.

"Right then, community servant David, into the bathroom!" ordered C.S.O. Karen harshly. "You've got two minutes!"

So much, then, for John's big idea, I glumly thought, exactly two minutes later, as C.S.O.'s Karen and Linda hustled me down the stairs, closed the front door behind us and, right in front of my avidly watching neighbours, bundled me into the back of their A.F.P. van.

* * *

Upon our arrival at the Community Service Operations Centre, C.S.O.'s Karen and Linda forced my arms behind my back, and frogmarched me through to Reception.

At seeing my ID, printed in bold black letters and numbers on my white uniform T-shirt, the Community Service Liaison Officer, Harriet Harmman, said sarcastically, "Hmm ... didn't I have the pleasure of your company yesterday morning, community servant David double-oh-seven?"

Whoo! Crack!

"Say: Yes, madam!" snapped C.S.O. Karen who, when I didn't immediately respond to the Liaison Officer's question, lashed out with her cane at my right calf.

"Aaaaaaahhhhhh! ... Yes, ma - madam," I responded as instructed, while trying to rub my injured right calf with my hand - but C.S.O. Linda wouldn't let me.

Addressing C.S.O. Karen, the Liaison Officer said, "So, to what do I owe the pleasure, then, of community servant David's unexpected visit?"

"Community servant David double-oh-seven is charged with three counts of misconduct, altogether, ma'am. One: He failed to report to his assigned duties this morning, in the Sock Room. Two: When ordered to immediately report for duty, by myself and by C.S.O. Linda, he refused to comply, repeatedly disobeying direct orders, as issued to him by Community Service Officers. Three: In the course of his repeatedly disobeying our direct orders, he grossly disrespected both myself, and C.S.O. Linda. He told us both to - and I quote: "Sod off" and "Get lost" and "Go take a running jump" ma'am."

Harriet Harmman once again turned her attention to me and, by her stony-faced glare, I knew this wasn't going to end well.

"Community servant David double-oh-seven, you have just heard the charges against you, as read out by C.S.O. Karen," said the Liaison Officer gravely. "Let me make myself perfectly clear. I will not tolerate such behaviour, as has just been described to me. And neither will your supervisors - haven't you realised that yet? You have flagrantly disobeyed your supervisors' direct orders. You have repeatedly shown them gross disrespect. In short: you have shown utter contempt, for their authority as Community Service Officers - and, by association, for the Authoritarian Female Party government itself.

"Community servant David double-oh-seven," intoned Harriet Harmman coldly, "your actions are sanctionable. And I hereby fine you two weeks' Unemployment Benefit payments. This is your chastisement ... And, no doubt, over the ensuing days, weeks, and months, in their own fashion, C.S.O.'s Karen and Linda will also help you to see the errors of your ways.

"And now, C.S.O.'s Karen and Linda," said the Liaison Officer brusquely, as though this petty matter had already taken up far too much of her time, "please escort community servant David from these premises, and return him to his assigned duties immediately ... I'm sure he will have a lot of work to be catching up on, in the Sock Room."

"Yes, ma'am! Right away, ma'am!" responded the stern faced C.S.O.'s Karen and Linda simultaneously, in their best parade-ground fashion.

Once again, I regretted my disastrous folly in taking John's well-meaning advice: "Just don't go back." And for foolishly listening to his careless-shrugged, criminally complacent comment - his catastrophic counsel: "What's the worst, that could happen?"

Well, John, I thought gloomily. Let's see. What's the worst, that could happen? Where should I start?

Hmm ...

How about: giving the Community Service Liaison Officer, Harriet Harmman, a face like thunder, and three good reasons to remember me?

How about: the devastating loss of two weeks' Unemployment Benefit payments, which was going to wipe out all of my 'rainy day' reserves, and leave me struggling to make ends meet, for weeks after?

And, worst of all - the real kicker: How about my two supervisors, C.S.O.'s Karen and Linda, helping me to see the errors of my ways ("in their own fashion"), over the ensuing days, weeks, and months?

I mournfully mused over these miserable matters, as C.S.O.'s Karen and Linda once again forced my arms behind my back, manhandled me out of the Community Service Operations Centre, and frogmarched me across Canford town square ... to the Sock Room.

Community Service continues, in Ch. 5.