The Crunch, was ex soldier .. ex professional boxer .. street fighter and night club bouncer. He had a fearsome hairy reputation .. his street name was simply .. �The Crunch� ..  possibly from the sound made when his fist hit someone�s head. He was a battle scarred warrior and stood 6 foot 3 in his socks .. early forties .. well muscled .. big chested .. thick waist ... huge fists.. whilst his face carried many volumes of a dare devils life. His real name was Michael .. behind the battered exterior of Crunches frame .. Michael lived .. and occasionally Michael came out to play

The Crunch and I had a bond based on mutual respect .. we had both served in the same desert conditions .. in the service of the Queen .. in different units of course .. he had a huge knobbly head and face with cauliflowered ears,  which rested upon an ox neck ..  astride broad muscular shoulders .. his eyes clear slate blue and cutting in their gaze .. his brow ridged protectively over his eyes. His hair a gingery blond. His nose laid back and spread out .. pugilist style.

I pushed through the curtains of the early evening nightclub and glanced around .. the club was sparsely populated as yet .. but would fill to the overflowing as the pubs closed for the night � I made my way across the semi darkened floor past empty bandstand and low stage .. heading for the brightly lit bar .. I ordered a Jamison�s .. and stood waiting .. then I became aware of someone on my left, and turned my head .. it was Crunch at work .. dressed .. muscle bulging in evening suit and starched white shirt with black bow tie .. his huge fists and battered head .. such a juxtaposition .. I instantly drowned the instinct to laugh .. discretion is the better part of valor as my Mother had taught me.

Good evening Sir .. he said quietly .. new here are we? .. And a very good evening to you I replied .. and yes this is my first time here, may I buy you a drink? We aint sposed to drink on duty .. but its early evening and the Sergeant Major 'e; aint �ere� yet .. so yes I, ll join you in a whiskey .. then he winked .. so I ordered him a double Jamison�s.

Ex military .. I inquired? .. He threw the double back in one go and rolled it deliberately around his mouth .. then swallowed .. he put the glass down .. and looked at me appraisingly .. then slowly said .. Ohhhh! you are not so daft as you look .. you were quick enough to catch the hint .. another whiskey I enquired? .. Sorry Sir .. duty calls .. but if you strike any problems .. just tip me the nod �n� wink.

That was how I first met Crunch .. When it was his rostered  night off .. he and I would go for hilarious nights on the town together .. there was never any trouble and they were memorable for the womanizing, side splitting mirth, banter and ribaldry .. and drink .. I have seen him put away 12 pints of Guinness .. and sample the whiskey and still walk straight.

When talking of his army service .. Shufti Bint! .. he would cry .. and then launch into womanizing stories .. and how he used to evade night raiding Red Caps (military police) .. the crafty buggers .. typical coppers (police), they would kick the door in .. all of a sudden like .. three of em .. always three .. I used to whack the first one .. an I,d be orf like a jack rabbit .. grab me shorts and with me tackle flying .. leg it up to the roof .. those red cap poofters never stood a chance .. he said .. there were strategic cat walks over the flat roofs, across half the town .. I could emerge anywhere .. those red cap jack offs couldn�t cover it all.

When the pubs shut we would walk home .. his or mine .. whichever was closest .. One night we ended up at his place .. this after a real skin full .. a small flat .. that he kept Regimental clean and tidy .. never know when the Sar�nt Major may pop in for a short arm inspection, he winked .. he was referring to his ex wife .. they never divorced and still saw each other occasionally .. there were no children.

He placed a full bottle of whisky on the table and went to get glasses .. and asked rhetorically .. know why I drink Jamison�s? .. and went on .. me Dad were Irish � from the West Coast .. Galway he added .. Dad never went back after the Great War .. an sent for Mum to join him in Birmingham .. She were Norwegian .. his eyes clouded, then he said .. they still lie together .. pushing up the daisies .. a life of toil and service is usually a short one .. they did their dash and never complained .. me old man were a patriot .. bloody fool! .. shoulda joined the Labour Party .. he never did find out �oo� the real enemy were.

We both shared that love of the dry lands and highlands that made up much of the parched and rugged beauty of the Yemen .. he was most scathing about protecting pipe lines and oil refineries .. bloody capitalist oinks .. he said .. its always someone elses son .. never their own .. all they needed to do was pay the A-rabs a fair price .. bloody sight cheaper than sending an army with its cruelty and loss of life.

On one occasion .. the lead 3 tonner that was carrying a platoon of infantry .. triggered an anti-tank mine .. and it blew the driver clean in half .. Crash said .. we put a bullet in his head to make sure he,d snuffed it � we ad to solve his problem quick smart .. he paused .. then said .. the Yemeni�s want no part of Empire they just want their own country back .. so you cannot blame them .. they aint no different to you or me .. cos if you think about it .. we wernt no more than the pimps �o� the Empire .. Pimping for the Queen .. and the other lying bastards sitting in the Bank of England.

His sympathies always lay with the underdog .. he had once knocked down a Staff Sergeant for physically abusing a villager .. the Sgt. pulled his rank on me.. so I copped im a good un .. side of the jaw .. �E� went down like a felled ox .. that got me 28 days in the RAF Glass House (military detention centre) out at Steamer Point .. I was lucky .. it could have been a Court Martial .. except the old Man agreed with me .. but the bugger still gave me 28 days. Gave the Staff Sgt a real right bollocking .. and told him .. that if I faced a court martial .. then he would too .. for contravening the Geneva Convention on the treatment of civilians .. so �e� were reprimanded and his pay book stamped .. so he ad a few years to understand that he blew the Company Sgt Majors job .. with its extra perks and pay .. for  whacking a wog.

I hate this bloody job .. he said .. I get em all .. acne and balls between their ears where their brains orta be .. then there is the oity toitys .. big wallets with mouths to match .. accompanied by sharp faced women with sly eyes .. fast expensive cars and the talk of Monte Carlo and Biarritz .. they got as much depth to em as the cats saucer .. with scorn, he spat accurately into the fire.

One of em .. pissed as a rat .. called me over and brayed .. Hey you ! .. Waiter ! .. over here ! .. Chop Chop ! .. bring another couple of bottles of Bordeaux for the table ... the cheeky sod ... I nearly gave him the table on is ead .. but I got is bottle for im .. and uncorked it and poured a little so he could taste .. the bloody little rodent said .. eww! .. this did not come out of a vineyard it came out of a knackers yard .. take it away .. at once .. and bring another..  That bloody little refugee from the officers mess .. I nearly decked the cheeky sod .. said Crunch.

Just the memory set Crunch to flexing his hands convulsively .. arrrgh!  .. But I ad him .. I bloody well ad him � took the bottle back to the kitchen .. topped it up with dish water .. put the cork back in and took it back .. shoulda seen the rigmarole, it were a sight for sore eyes he said .. and started laughing .. like a donkey braying .. and that set me off as well .. wheezing and spluttering he said .. I give im a half glass .. he sniffed it like a jack rabbit round a doe .. then �e� took a small mouthful .. rolled it around his mouth and swallowed it .. I say, he said .. much better than the first bottle .. Fill the glasses Waiter .. I aint no waiter I am head of security in that establishment .. afterwards me an the wine waiter were having a tipple .. and laughed so hard .. we blew the cobwebs out of the wine pantry.

In a more pensive mood .. I,ve been a fool.. he said .. wasted me life .. but it too late to change it now .. I,ve ad me chances .. could have been on a Sergeants pension an retired by now .. shame I decked that Staff Sergeant .. that put paid to a glittering military career .. and he spat accurately into the fire. I boxed good he said .. if I,d been prepared to take a dive I could�ve cleaned up good .. but I refused .. the bastards broke the fingers on both my hands.

The Heavyweight title was mine for the taking .. odds on favourite .. I never did climb into the ring to claim it .. its like an acid stain on the soul .. theres always a heavy price to be paid if you want to be your own man.

I was in �Ospital� when the missus left me .. I found out from �er� mate .. they were gonna stiff me if she didn�t. Always been true to my roots .. working class .. proud of it .. never kicked a man while �e� were down .. and when they went down .. I allus let em up for another try, if they were willing. No man went hungry or short of a shilling when I were around .. Take your chances when they pop up .. Don�t be like me.. too bloody proud .. as far as I can see it�s the grovel merchants and bum lickers wot prosper.

When I last I heard of Michael .. He was drawing his old age pension .. and had moved to Galway Town .. out of time a misplaced Celtic/Viking warrior .. He had said once .. half jokingly .. when its me time to sign the book .. I shall buy a rowing boat and a gallon of petrol .. then row out to sea .. far enough so they cant spray a damper on the party .. My Mum used to talk of Valhalla and the Viking Warriors .. so I shall douse the boat in petrol and fling a match .. then I shall be free of those self appointed superior  bastards that grind us down.

Well Michael my Boyo .. Wherever you may be .. I think you are a good man with the courage of a lion .. and you were a good teacher, and I thank you for that .. I wish you Godspeed .. swift journey to Valhalla.

Ivor Hughes
4^th May 2006
Auckland. New Zealand.

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