NEWTON'S OPTIC:SO THIS one time, right, we launched a machine gun attack on a Church of Ireland orphanage that was sheltering informers and concealing a British satellite tracking station. The operation was a success but one of our Volunteers slipped in a pool of blood and sprained his ankle. There was no doubt that it was Gerry's responsibility. As the officer commanding, he had a duty of care to perform a full risk assessment before sending anyone in. But when I brought the matter to his attention he just didn't seem that interested.
“What do you expect me to do about it?” he asked.
I told him he could at least offer the injured Volunteer some compensation.
“I’d love to, Dirk,” he said, “but I’m afraid our budget’s been ankle-capped.”
Imagine making a joke about a wounded comrade! That man could have been off work for weeks, if he did work, which admittedly wasn’t likely. But it was the principle of the thing. How could Gerry be so indifferent to the suffering of someone hurt on active service? It was after this incident that I first began to suspect he was a bit of a monster.
Then this other time, right, we had all been unjustly imprisoned after a show-trial for the so-called Orphanage Massacre when one of our Volunteers didn’t get a cup of tea. There was no doubt that it was Gerry’s responsibility. As the senior officer on the republican wing, it was his job to ensure we all received our full hot beverage entitlement under the Geneva Convention.
But once again, when I brought the matter to his attention, Gerry just didn’t seem to care. I was disturbed to see how little the rights of ordinary people already meant to him. In retrospect, it was a clear warning sign of where things were heading.
Then this other time, right, we sent the rest of the guys from the orphanage job to shoot up a Presbyterian pensioners’ outing in Bangor, but as soon as they arrived someone dropped a piano on their van and they were all killed instantly. At the time I just assumed it was an accident but looking back on it now there may have been a larger plan, in which the piano was instrumental.
Then this other time, right, Gerry decided to stand for election. I was able to get all the orphans we’d shot on to the electoral register and I’m proud to say that on the day of the count Gerry’s support among the dead Protestant child community was well over 100 per cent. But after he won he was all like “I’m the big politician now” and “Do this, do that, Dirk” even though I’d worked just as hard as he had to steal the votes off those kids we’d murdered. And I just couldn’t help wondering if this man had any moral centre at all.
Then this other time, right, I noticed that Gerry had done some things then stopped doing them, without declaring he had done them or explaining why he stopped doing them, and at that point I thought to myself, this guy is worse than Hitler.
Where's My Gravy? The Life and Death of Dirk Lyttleis available now from the usual stockists