Copernican Principle      The scribblings of an insignificant man

  Gordon was up early. The previous day had proved strenuous, keeping away from all the Barnsley pubs, bars and licensed premises. Instead, he had concentrated on furnishing his new house on Princess Street. He also needed to fill a new fridge with food, stock a new wardrobe with clothes, get to grips with all the new tech and appease a very annoying, though terribly handsome, new dog called Bayleaf. Mainly due to a dislike of shopping and partly due to Bayleaf not being allowed in most shops in ‘Tarn’, he ordered a few items online.

  Bayleaf sat in the window ledge, looking out at the world. Gordon channel hopped on his new TV, waiting for a host of calls on his new mobile to inform him of his various deliveries. It had been about twenty years since he was last on the planet and though he had kept one lazy eye on the scientific and environmental issues, he needed to catch up with the current social and political landscape. BBC1 had a documentary discussing the disturbing rise in child abuse. He flicked to MTV which was playing a Britney Spears video, singing #Hit me Baby One More Time#, dressed as a schoolgirl.

 ‘Bizarre’, he thought, just as Bayleaf sprang to his feet on the window ledge. The calm morning air was shattered with barking. Bayleaf’s bark was loud and more screeching than menacing. Gordon tuned into the dog’s thoughts and raised his head to see out the window as a young hooded man walked his Staffy Bull Terrier past the house. ‘Venez, venez, you little fat fuck’ Bayleaf was screaming at him, ‘Sniff my arse, I sheet on your ‘ead’. His barking was intense, high pitched and laced with snarls as he continued, ‘No so ‘ard now, you grand merde, Partez you cowardly, wrinkly poof’.

 Gordon turned back to the TV as the barking whimpered out. He flicked through to the American Fox News Channel and watched a panel of five people debating current affairs. ‘He’s right, we should ban all Muslims, till we can find out what’s going on’, one of the suited gentleman was ranting, ‘at least Christians don’t kill’. He continued to flick through and came to the Russian news channel RT, ‘The Real IRA are currently ranked as the ninth richest terrorist organisation in the world ….’.

 Bayleaf erupted once more. His droning, tedious bark now interspersed with howling.

 ‘Ma Cherie, baby, oui, oui. come to Papa’. Gordon looked out the window once more to see an Alsation being walked by an elderly couple. ‘Lift your tail for me honey. You big, beautiful bitch…..’ Gordon tuned out as his new mobile phone rang.

 “Hello”, Gordon was eager to see who the first person to call him would be.

 A low, dark voice, that was clearly not English answered “Mister Gordon, one hour, I COME FOR YOU”. Gordon reeled back. The sinister, foreign tone in the man’s voice was hard as steel.

 “Who is this?” Gordon asked.

 The line began to break up, “… Is Us. Coming one hour. Okay?” the voice stuttered in Gordon’s ears.

 ‘Bayleaf’, he called in thought to his dog who was now howling softly as the Alsation bitch trotted off in the distance, ‘have you heard of Is Us before?’

 ‘Sacre bleu, my friend’, there was fear in Bayleaf’s telepathic response, ‘thees are killers, terrorists, they will be off with your ‘ead. Non, non, Isis in Barnsley, we are fini!’

 ‘Would killers give me an hour’s notice and ask if it’s okay?’ Gordon was confused, he returned to the call, "What do you want?” he demanded.

 “Furniture Is Us. We have bed. You home?”

 With much relief, Gordon acknowledged the call and hung up. He moved over to the window ledge and gave the shaking Bayleaf a reassuring hug ‘Don’t fear my fluffy fellow, I’ll protect you’. He knew he should have explained the confusion to Bayleaf, but it might help to quieten him down a while. ‘Why don’t you take yourself into the back yard and get some air’

‘Are you play with me? No way. ‘Av you seen that ugly dog next door?’ Bayleaf retorted.

 ‘Now that’s not nice’, Gordon checked him, ‘I’m sure if you give her some time, you’ll find ….’

 ‘Non, non, my friend. I mean the dog, not Mandy’

 ‘What dog?’ Gordon questioned.

 ‘The man looking dog, on all fours with collar and lead. He’s with beard and mankini, Tres scary, non?’

 ‘Ah yes, I really need to get that Igor some help. What was his Dad’s name again?’.

 Their conversation was interrupted by a knock at the door. They both looked out the window and saw that a large, white truck had parked outside. Gordon opened the front door.

 “Hi there, Furniture Is Us, we’ve got your delivery”. In a flat, matter-of-fact tone, and with a distinctive Southern accent, the man at the door stood there in grey clothing and a bright yellow high-vis jacket. Small square spectacles perched on the end of a red nose as he looked back at Gordon awaiting acknowledgment.

 “That was a very quick hour”, Gordon told him and smiled, “but no problem, at least you’re not going to behead me”.

 The man looked back at him with an expression as flat and straight as his tone, “What?”

 “Sorry, ignore me” Gordon continued. “If you can take it straight up to the bedroom, please. I’m going to need a good night’s sleep tonight”.

 “You sleep on a dog bed, mate?”

 “Hey? Oh, sorry, different delivery, sorry, yes, just bring it in here”, Gordon moved to one side to let the man in. He entered and was quickly followed by another man, also in a yellow high-vis jacket carrying the boxed animal bed. Bayleaf jumped down to greet them both. “Are you okay with dogs? I can throw him in the back” Gordon asked.

 The second man, much thinner than the first, answered, “He’ll be right mate”, and he knelt down to introduce himself to Bayleaf. “Ain’t you a good boy” he told Bayleaf who’s tail was wagging in delight of the attention. “What’s his name?”

 “Bayleaf” Gordon told him.

 “Hello Bayleaf”, the man continued fussing over the dog, “I’m Biscuit and that’s LiamG”.

 ‘You call yourself Biscuit?’ Bayleaf projected his question into Gordon’s head, ‘but you smell of pie?’

 “I can see you like dogs then”, Gordon asked Biscuit in polite conversation.

 “Yeah”, he replied, “but I can’t eat more than one”. His own nervous laughter became the only sound in the room. Bayleaf looked at Gordon, who looked back at Bayleaf, who then looked at LiamG, who looked back at Gordon. In the distance, a lone dog howled.

 LiamG broke the uncomfortable quiet, thrusting a terminal towards Gordon, ‘Sign ‘ere please mate’, the accent sounded Essex-like (innit).

 Bayleaf turned his attention to LiamG, sniffing at his leg, ‘I like thees man, ‘ee also smell of pie’.

 LiamG looked down at him, “he can probably smell bitch on me”.

 “Have you delivered next door as well then?” Gordon joked

 “What?”, LiamG’s tone remained flat.

 ‘Ahhhh’, Bayleaf thought, ‘bitch flavour pie, mon favourite’.

 “You have dogs too?” Gordon asked LiamG again with a cheery smile.

 “What?” LiamG looked back at him, his brow now wrinkling in a puzzled expression.

 “I’ve got a dog”, piped up Biscuit, “I call him Rolex …….. he’s a watchdog”.

 Gordon looked at LiamG, who looked back at Bayleaf, who looked back at Biscuit. Far away a lone dog started to howl, stopped a moment to cough up phlegm, then continued to howl.

 Gordon bid the men farewell.

 Delivery complete, Bayleaf returned to the window ledge and Gordon to the TV. Now a review of the fictional movie ‘The Hunger Games’, he flicked again. Now channel 4 was playing a game show. The presenter announced, ‘… if you can tell me what colour the teletubbie Lala is we’ll give a quarter of a million pounds to your chosen charity tonight, Help for Heroes. But remember, if you get it wrong, you leave with nothing…..’. Gordon was more confused than ever.

 Once more Bayleaf sprang into attack mode at the window, barking and spluttering. ‘I ‘ave you, I ‘ave you, let me lick you, let me sniff you’. Gordon’s attention turned back to the window but this time he couldn’t see anything that might have triggered Bayleaf’s interest. The incessant noise was beginning to hurt his ears.

 ‘What is it now?’ he asked as Bayleaf continued to snarl and hiss.

 ‘I want to paw you and steeck my nostrils in your opening’ Bayleaf continued regardless, as a crisp packet blew up to the window. He pressed his snout against the glass as if to catch it, leaving a smear of snot and spit over the glass.

 Another white truck pulled up outside. Gordon and Bayleaf now watched as a dark skinned, tall man exited the vehicle in a familiar looking high-vis yellow jacket.

 ‘Get ready Bayleaf’, Gordon thought at his handsome dog.

 ‘I’m right behind you mon amie’, Bayleaf courageously thought back.

 A thunderous knock at the door, echoed through the room. Then silence. Gordon turned to look at Bayleaf. The deafening quiet was broken by a rasping burst of anal wind and then scraping of claws as Bayleaf dismounted the window ledge and fled whining into the kitchen.

 Gordon answered the door.

 “Delivery for you please”, the dark man spoke, now face to face with Gordon, in his dark tones and bright jacket.

 “Gosh, you’ve come a long way just to deliver a bed”, Gordon joked irresistibly.

 “Stairfoot?” the man answered. “Sign here”. He thrust a terminal into Gordon’s hand and began to carry a number of boxes into the house.

 “Gosh”, Gordon uttered in surprise as he looked at the three compact boxes “there’s a bed in there?”

 “Sign now” the man repeated.

 “Sorry, you’re clearly in a hurry”, Gordon handed back the man’s terminal complete with digital signature.

 “We short. You drive? Need drivers. Good money”

‘A cross between Egyptian and Welsh’, Gordon thought as he tried to place the man’s accent, ‘unless of course this man is as bad as me at impersonating accents, “You’re English”, he guessed out loud.

 The man stared back at him, shocked. He looked back at the van to see the driver still in the cab smoking a cigarette. “Dunt say owt, please. If I tell ‘um I’m from Wombwell they’ll ne’er let it go”. His natural Barnsley accent seemed strangely comical, but the fear in his voice was very real.

 “I promise. Whats your name?” Gordon asked.

 “Me real name’s Brian”, he replied, “but everyone calls me Mohammed, it just makes life easier”.

 “Okay Bri”, Gordon patted him on the shoulder reassuringly, “are you really looking for drivers though?”

 “Aye”, Brian replied, “if ya got a licence their chuffin’ desperate”.

 “We’ll see, cheers”, Gordon showed him back to the door and waved goodbye. Alone once more, he looked at his growing collection of boxes that would now need assembling, but something was missing.

 “Bayleaf?” he shouted. A little white snout appeared from behind one of the boxes slowly followed by two brown, fluffy ears that hung low either side of two big, sorrowful eyes. ‘What happened to you?’ he asked in thought.

 ‘Mon amie, I thought I could smell pussy in the garden and ran to check it out’, he lied, but his sad face made it impossible for rebuke.

 ‘We have work to do Bayleaf, are you ready for a challenge?’

 ‘Oui, oui, what can I do?’ Bayleaf, looked eager to exonerate himself.

 ‘Fetch your lead, I’m going to need a beer or two before starting’

 ‘Ah mais encore, to Le Pig?’

 ‘But of course, my pretty little buddy …… to The Pig’