In the university holidays I would get a job on a building site as a builders labourer. I was strong and fit so I could do what was required, no problem. On this particular occasion I arrived at about 10am on my bike at a typical site - a three storey office building being built by a bunch of guys who had either just come out of prison or who were due there shortly.
In those days there was no health and saftety nonsense and nobody wore hard hats or steel capped boots. You just wore whatever you wanted.
One of the guys was wearing a purple suit with green winkle pickers while making compo in a mixer. The message was clear:
"I am so fucking hard that I can get away with wearing this ludicrous suit"
A bit like a big black guy walking through a tough neighbourhood with gold chains round his neck sending out a clear message.
"You fuck with me at your peril"
I asked the winkle picker guy where the boss was. He left the machine running slowly and walked over with me
"It's the break, I was just getting the mix right"
We walked to a ramshackle hut full of guys drinking tea and smoking
"Is the boss around?" I asked
A burly looking middle aged guy looked up from drinking his tea
"That's me"
"Do you have any jobs?"
"Can you paint?"
"Well" I said "some landscapes but mostly nudes"
Of course, they all fell about - this was a building site after all.
He smiled "So it's a three for one deal then - a builder, an artist and a smart arse"
I blushed "Sorry"
He looked me up and down "You done this before?"
"Yes, several months ..."
"OK" he said "phone your details into the office and start in the morning"
That was it - I was in. I turned up next day at 8am and we got started. I worked hard and could keep up. Nothing remarkable happened but after a week or so the boss asked me and another guy, Harry, to clear up a big mess of loose rebar mixed with concrete - the remains of semi-disaster. The shuttering had collapsed as soon as they started pouring so a big machine had just lifted it all out of the way and dumped it in a big heap.
Harry was using a petrol powered cutting disc and suddenly it jammed (a hazard of cutting loose stuff) and the machine jumped out of his hands
and stopped. Nothing unusual in that. What was unusual was the fountain of blood from his leg.
Harry was screaming and people came running
"Phone 999" I yelled
Somebody ran to the phone and I could see him dialling. I picked up a bit of rope and we set him down while blood sprayed everywhere. I quickly pulled
down his trousers and wrapped a length of rope round his leg above the wound and the fountain slowed down and stopped.
After about ten minutes the ambulance showed up and Harry was taken away. The ambulance guys hardly spoke and off they went. We all
went back to work
"Where's the mixer cord?" asked winkle picker man
"Oh shit" I said "it's round Harry's leg"
This gave rise to some muttering but we found some rope and just about made it work but it was very irritating as the rope was too thick
and the mixer was hard to start and this made it even harder.
"Silly cunt used the mixer cord on Harry's leg" I heard the boss mutter
After a few days Harry came limping onto the site with crutches - looking a lot older and a bit grey. We all gathered round and asked him how he was.
"Well" he said "lucky to be alive"
We were all shocked
"You're kidding, right?"
"No, the surgeon said that without the rope round my leg I would have died - seven or eight minutes and I would have been brown bread - major artery apparently"
Harry then started crying - very awkward. We all shuffled in embarrassment.
"So, Harry" said the boss "have you got the mixer cord with you?"
We all fell about including Harry and the situation was saved - crying on a building site was just not something we could cope with
and the boss had saved the day. In those days men did not have feelings - they had muscles.
Harry wandered off and we all went for the afternoon tea break, looking very thoughful
"Well" said the boss "you may be a cunt but you're our cunt"
Of course everybody fell about again and several of them patted me on the shoulder when the break was over
"Well done mate - I mean he could have fucking died ... I mean, it never crossed my mind - I just thought it was a cut ... Jesus"
After that I was known as Doctor David - typical building site humour. And whenever anybody did anything vaguely competent on site -
not something that happened too often they would say
"You may be a cunt but you're our cunt"
A couple of weeks later it was pissing down - the rainy season in the UK typically runs from 1st January to 31st December.
"Right" said the boss "you lot off to the hospital and Doctor David can paint some more nudes"
In the building trade a 'hospital job' is something you fall back on when the weather is bad or you have run out of something and are
waiting for the lorry to turn up. In this particular case our 'hospital job' was actually in a hospital.
When we got there I realised that we were going to use a paint spray and that meant that paint would go everywhere but mainly over me.
"Shit" I said "anybody got a spare coat they want painted white?"
Somebody looked in a drawer and actually found a white coat with a badge on it saying 'Doctor Davies'. He crudely changed the 'Davies' to 'David'
and to much laughter we all set to work.
At one point I wandered off to find a toilet and while walking back a young nurse physically grabbed me by the arm and pulled me into a room
"Qucik" she said "we have a problem"
There was woman lying on her back with her legs up in stirrups with her legs wide open. I stood there with my mouth wide open in a state of shock
and then both the nurse and I realised she had made a big mistake.
I turned away and she ran off to find a real doctor. An hour later she was back.
"What the fuck are you doing wearing that coat?" she said
Fortunately the guys all gathered round and explained the whole story about Harry and the white coat and how it was all just a joke. Eventually she calmed down
"Oh" she said "I heard about that - it was a cord off a cement mixer or something. It's hanging up in the office"
The next day the sun came out and we were all back at the main site. During the break I explained the full circumstances of the hospital encounter to the boss
"Well" he said "I guess it takes a cunt to find another one"
And that's how we got the mixer cord back.
Bob Cory
Modified on 11/08/2023 at 11:33:58 by ℗ Bob Cory