Kettled

Davy and Jack were drunk. This was not an unusual occurrence. When finances allowed, this was very much the status quo. Now and again though, these brothers would fight. This was one of those nights. They’d niggled and narked all day and now it had blown up into a battle. There was only ever one winner on these occasions. Davy, the younger brother, was fiercer and stronger than Jack. Davy had the look of a Jacobite warrior, a ‘bare-arsed banditti’ with his long frizzy hair and beard the colour of irn bru. He fought ferociously with fist, feet and head.

This night he chose to fight with a kettle.

Maybe his hands had become sore with beating Jack on the head, because Jack, though beaten from the start, would not give up. At one point in the melee Davy had headered Jack all the way down the stairs of the house. Thump – right from top to bottom. They say drunk men don’t break and it’s just as well. Jack got up, crying now in frustration, and came back up the stair for another go. Davy began hitting him over the head with the kettle, an old tin affair with a whistle. Thump Bang Wallop he knocked Jack near unconscious and into final submission.

Next morning we had to use a pot to boil water for the tea. The kettle was mangled almost beyond recognition.