Don Studmuffin

I in lot of trouble with the Don this week. While I being entertained by Don Clegg's henchmen last November, we talk about stuff on occasion. With Signor Grant for example we chat about problem with Capo Clegg image.

"The thing is Liberali, I'm a little concerned."

"Why that Gavin?"

"Well Capo Clegg is more 'new' Family than 'old', some people even say he appeals to women."

"What point of that?"

"I know... I know... but ever since Signora Pankhurst and her (shudder) progressive ilk secured full access to the Family it's been seen as quite an asset in a Don."

"Sure explain why Signora Clegg keep giving lady Capos filthy looks."

"Uh huh... anyhow that's not my point, the flip side of all that 'girl-power' is that, well how can I put this delicately, the Capo can occasionally seem a little feminine... it doesn't go down so well with the real old men of honour... you know... like you."

"Sure, Signora Liberali say she glad she with man with no feminine side, and I should under no circumstances ever consider making decisions about what's in our home. I think she say this when visiting bachelor pad while dating."

"Fascinating... I would love to hear more... however the issue is how do we improve the Capo's appeal to real men?... Do you have any ideas?"

"He could shoot Capo Huhne in the face?"

"Uh huh... uh huh... I'm thinking starting a Family blood-bath might lose a little more marginal support than it gains and be quite expensive... it can be a burden to be a marketing expert sometimes... think a little more about the image than the substance."

"Well he could talk about man-things a bit more and spend a little less time on all this diverse Family stuff."

"Mmm interesting... do go on"

"What about he do interview with 'real men' Paparazzi like the 'Moron' who write for PoshWank magazine"

"I'm listening..."

"He could talk about man-stuff... favourite gun... bullet-proof car of month... organising hits on his Blackberry... fun-stuff... wiseguy-stuff... make him sound modern man of honour as well as ladies man"

"Very good... any risks?"

"Um... no don't think so... not like it serious anti-Family magazine..."

And with that he dash off to talk to Signor Clegg. Interview not used at time, but turn out PoshWank saving it for later.... and it seem Don Clegg may have got his brief confused. The Moron got him talking about other stuff as well, which not quite get headlines Signor Grant looking for...

"PoshWank Exclusive: I'm like a Tommy Gun in a whorehouse claim Don of Liberali Family"

"10... 20... 30... I've had so many I've lost count... say Don Clegg"

"Good... was I good... let's just say when you're used to Nissan Micra you're going to notice a Hummer in the driveway"

"Is my wife satisfied?... well she begged me not to become Don, so I guess she wasn't looking for less time together."

"Have I cheated?... er... I don't think so... despite being the Leader of the most sensationally attractive Family... I'd like to think I've only got eyes for Signora Clegg..."

Signor Moron inexplicably publish that last comment under subtitle "He's a shagger, oh yes he is."

So I be taking holiday for a while I think... and not letting Signora Liberali hang around the Printworks too much when Don is around...

Liberali Cugine... Solid Gold

Liberali Junior sure having busy month. Only just back from Liverpool and already he helping Signor 'bully-stomper' Gettleson, leader of the Liberali Cugine, organise his relaunch, with Don Clegg.

I no understand cugine these days, so I not sure why LC need relaunch. But Liberali Junior assure me it very important.

"It like difference between Yellow and Gold" he say.

I stare at him blankly, but glad he thinking about gold, show some promise for Family business.

"Yellow's a nice colour, very friendly, nothing wrong with a bit of yellow. But gold, gold is basically yellow, but really, really sparkly... you know shiny... a bit better"

"You saying you like boys?" I ask.

He glower at me.

"There were lots of girls at the launch..." he say sulkily "and nibbles... and a DJ... it was fun..."

"So where was the gold?"

"... there was no gold... it... was... a... metaphor..."

"You met a whore? Sound like brilliant relaunch."

He stare at me with that blank impatient look that really remind me of Signora Liberali.

"You just don't understand... I'm going to sit in a dark room for a while now... don't knock... don't come in... it's just something we do in LC."

"O.k... don't forget give your new friend a call... or you send her text... is that how you communicate these days... Personally... I used to get on bicycle to go and see Signora Liberali's father and wave to her in garden... or rather back of her head under sun umbrella... which her parents still regard as pretty racy liberty before we married... it..."

But he gone.

Sure is great to see young man making his way in Family, such impatience to succeed.

Liberali Junior in Liverpool

Liberali Family is in Liverpool this weekend for Spring Family Gathering. I take this as good opportunity to stay at home and work on lemon trees, but have sent enthusiastic cugine up in my stead.

For Liberali Junior, my nephew, this will be first Gathering. So he still full of keen enthusiasm and optimism that less evident amongst those in regular attendance. For now though he leaf through briefing papers on socially responsible carjacking and benefiting from cross-border crime with with wide-eyed wonder and curiosity.

He been pestering me with questions all week about which way he should indicate his support on various pressing matters like what to do about children who bit slow, preventing lawyers getting more of our money, and whether or not our drugs rackets should be run by Capitani, directly selected foot soldiers, or some combination.

On this last point I advise him to avoid discussion altogether and go and learn how to meet girls in bars. It advice I give frequently to members of Family internal governance structure, but for many I fear it too late.

He ring me last night to say this precisely what he do. Although I not sure he get it quite right.

"I see training session run by Signor Mathon, a London hitman, and Signora Harper, a consigliore, called Winning with Women" he say.

"How that go for you" I ask

"It little disappointing. Not sure it great advice. Most of training seem to be fashion tips on how to conceal a Beretta in a twin-set, and when I try and mimic Signor Mathon's chat-up lines later in bar it not very helpful."

"Chat-up lines?"

"I see pretty girl who work for Don Clegg and say to her she have nice eyes and 'professional-looking demure demeanour that look good on leaflets in non-threatening or overly -flirty-manner'. She pour drink on head."

"So when change shirt and try more conversational-style. Going really well with new Capitani from Little Sicily until I ask her if she like to 'come back to my ward and spend weekend extorting support from local residents;'. Her eyes glaze over and she suddenly rather talk to Capo Opik about his harmonica."

"Did you try and buy anyone a drink?"

"Yes, but Signor Mathon say I should not do this until I 'have extracted a commitment for at least one evening of tactical support at time of local turf-war'. It not prove easy. One girl though do ask me for glass of water, but call me an environmental criminal when I get her a bottle. Luckily Signor Cable giving away fruit juice from his new line of Dr. Cable's Smoothies range, but most Liberali women seem more interested in vodka. I think that he have them in mind when he decry the pity of binge-drinking."

"How Liverpool for you otherwise."

"It great, not like you say at all. Still have hub-caps on hire car and no one in a suit was preparing for their day in court, except the ex-Leader of our Capitani. We making a fortune up here, so many building-site rackets going on that enforcers all getting very fit dashing between them. Even Signor Rennard putting his tracksuit on tomorrow to relive some of the triumphs of his youth."

"That good news, you learn something then?"

"Yes, if you work hard all year round you don't get to meet many women."

That my boy...

The Euro Revolt

It troubling evening tonight. Not sure exactly what go on, but have been summoned into meeting with Don Clegg, Signor Davey and Signor Alexander.

"Bastardos, they're all ******* bastardos" rave the Don

Signor Davey look mighty cheerful. He appear to be looking through Family yearbook and drawing little symbols next to some of the pictures. I not sure what they mean but look like little spikes, squiggly lines with a loop on the end, and L-shapes with little round circles coming out of the end. Signor Davey mighty talented artist.

"I would urge caution" say Signor Alexander

"Oh genius, thank-you Daniel, this would be caution as in following your guidance to avoid upsetting anyone by developing a position on the latest musings of the Euro Family so complex that no one understands it except the three of us."

"It seems very simple to me" say Signor Davey.

"Really..." say the Don "Suppose, just for my education you articulate it again to Signor Liberali?"

"Well if you insist... Don.... Signor Liberali, as you know... periodically... the Euro Family meets to set rules for dealing with the border disputes that occasionally erupt between us. The latest rules were proposed in Lisbon, and the Euro Family is awaiting confirmation that the national Families are happy with the proposal."

"I thought Dutch heroin racketeers and French Connection already reject that."

"No, no, no, that was the set of rules proposed in Rome a year earlier, and entirely different set of rules, with much wider implications."

"Really what difference?"

Signor Davey glower at me. Don Clegg is smirking

"Well clearly that isn't what was important today."

"Oh why was it then that Knuckles was beating head against wall earlier, crying 'I just don't understand what we're doing'..."

"Well apart from the obvious that Signor Carmichael has a number of... shall we say... complex issues... the matter that caused him and other trait... I mean valued colleagues.... particular concern was the Don's insistence that we did not need to consult the foot-soldiers on the new rules."

"Why that problem?"

"It's not" snap Signor Davey... "That's the point"

"Then why everyone so excited?"

"Well some of the idio... I mean respected and loyal Capos... seem to regard Don Kennedy's 2005 promise to consult the foot-soldiers on the previous Rome rules as binding on this issue."

"So Lisbon rules really different to Rome rules then?"

Signor Davey glare at me.

"Well evidently Signor Liberali. For starters... one set of rules had the word Rome at the top... and other set used the word Lisbon."

"Wow, that pretty important." I say, impressed.

Signor Davey beam at the Don "See he understands"

"Uh huh..." interject the Don "Tell me Signor Liberali why is that you didn't join the rebels today. What is it about our position that you believe is defensible?"

"I figure if I no support you Signor Davey carry out threat to nail my testicles to door and close it." I beam

"Your loyalty is appreciated... Signor Davey, can I suggest you and Signor Alexander leave us to do some cabinet-making before the Family gets the impression that we tolerate any thinking more sophisticated than Signor Liberali's excellent analysis."

It sure great to be appreciated for brains as well as loyalty. I think I go and prepare some ice packs for Signors Heath, Farron and Knuckles...

Don Clegg to back no-Sicilian short-lists

Inner Circle meeting today Don Clegg raise difficult matter of Family diversity.

"Gentleman... er... and ladies we are not making progress fast enough. I have therefore decided to back Signor Vaz's call, and in principle support the idea that Capos, in all Families, may need to be chosen, if all else fails... er... on the basis of not being Sicilian."

"Isn't Signor Vaz the fat sleazebag who got suspended from the Labouristi for selling Family favours to his non-Sicilian mates and obstructing an investigation into it?" Ask Signor Baker looking rather cross.

"Er... yes... he has a bit of past... I grant you... however that doesn't on this occasion detract from the... er... general quality of the idea."

"No it'll be a nice little earner for him" mutter someone from back of the room

"So Don, how exactly is this going to work?" ask Signor Laws

"Er... well I think that's fairly obvious if you don't mind me saying so David... If you're not visibly Sicilian, you don't qualify. It doesn't apply to all vacancies, just those in areas where our clients are mostly not Sicilian, or at least a sizeable portion are not."

"But Don, we don't have any Capos in such areas?" he say

"Well precisely David." he say, eyes travelling up towards ceiling "That's why we're doing this"

"O.k... that's helpful Don, but just so we really understand this, I assume that non-Sicilian also means Jewish?"

"Er... clearly there are details to be ironed out..."

"Oh I see so if I get an enquiry about this from a Jewish cugine, I should tell him... or her... to wait until the Family has decided whether they're non-Sicilian enough to qualify?"

"Er... Er..."

"What's if they're only half-Jewish Don?"

"Well clearly in such a case whatever rule we had decided for fully-Jewish cugine would also apply?"

"Oh good, and if only a quarter, or what if they're non-practicing?"

"Well it might be necessary to appoint a vetting committee in such difficult cases."

"Excellent suggestion Don, and the purpose of this committee would presumably be to assess whether they looked visibly Jewish enough?"

"Er... Er... perhaps I should be clear this is primarily about people who clearly are not European looking to avoid all doubt."

"Marvellous Don, so we can presumably then exclude those unusual people who have one European parent, one non-European, but yet look European? Do Native Americans count? the Maronite Christians from the Lebanon?"

"Er... well again... maybe the committee..."

"And... forgive me if I'm being unhelpful.... however given we're picking territories for these short-lists based on how non-Sicilian people look, presumably exactly which communities do have large local presence might have some bearing on which groups get short-listed, or is it as crude as no-whites on the night but anything else goes?"

"Er..."

"Because forgive me for not entirely grasping the wisdom of this policy if it means we have Asian Capos like Signor Vaz's mates in Afro-Caribbean areas and a prospective Jewish Capo in Little Ealing. There are a number of inter-community sensitivities to consider that go a little beyond Sicilian or not."

"Er... that's very helpful David... if you'll excuse me I have to go and help Signor Paddick with his latest recruiting exercise."

"So are we having short-lists for men of honour who like men of honour as well?" mutter previous heckler from deepest recess of room... "what about fat Capos..." propose another "already covered down your way..." interject person behind me who I pretty sure sound like Signor Opik... "thick ones?"... "my point again stands"....

Don Clegg, never one for minor details of such inter-Family debates, has left the room... I think it not bad idea... but maybe not for Little Sicily...

Mrs. Flinter and the General Obligation Board

It most upsetting day in Little Sicily today. Little Billy O'Scrote, local ragamuffin who run the numbers for me in the Slums, come running into Territory Office.

"Signor Liberali, Signor Liberali, must come quickly the Gobblers are snatching dad's house..."

"The Gobblers?"

"There's a strange glamourous lady on the street with a gang of of thugs who say they from the Labouristi General Obligation Board. They say they going to make our home disappear."

I very disturbed to hear that this happening on patch that command my protection so I gather the boys and head to Slums.

(And by 'boys' Signora Christie-Smith, I mean representative mix of men and women from different ethnic backgrounds, cultural traditions with varied attitudes towards inflicting grevious bodily harm on Labouristi. Have to excuse self on disabled-inclusion though, it not pretty sight last time we try that)

When we get there I see various members of community cowering in middle of street as Labouristi gather lighted firebrands and look as if preparing to throw through windows of their homes. Standing a little way off wearing a fur-trimmed white coat is lady Billy mention. Glamorous, but with cold dead eyes starring impassionately at terror she create. Remind me little of Don Brown.

She notice us and indicate to Gobblers to stop what doing and form protective cordon.

I indicate to caporegime to advance in line.

"What going on here and who are you?" I ask angrily. Lady come forward little way.

"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Mrs. Flinter and I am here doing the work of the Authority. You have no right to interfere."

"I am 'the Authority' here, and you and your generally obnoxious board have precisely 30 seconds to start leaving or experience a widely diverse range of pain."

"But these people are unemployed. And according to their contracts with the Authority their homes are forfeit." She say waving some papers at me.

"Contracts?Billy? Mr. O'Scrote?"

A terrfied Mr. O'Scrote come forward. "It terrible Signor Liberali, they come round last year with contracts saying we must sign or others more deserving would have our homes."

"And you no tell me about this then?"

"They were quite insistent about the danger to our personal safety of mentioning this, what they called a trial run, to anyone not involved. Mrs. O'Scrote still has a limp. I try really hard to meet terms of contract, even get a job at bank call centre, not my fault it turn out to be Northern Rock."

I glower at Mrs. Flint. She smile unpleasantly.

"So this contract?" I say "It say family member must have job or lose their home".

"That right" she say beaming.

"Well Little Billy here work for me, as do all other kids on this street, in fact they all part of my cugine apprenticeship scheme. Today's on-job training is due to be health and safety demonstration of danger of using inflammable materials around unsuitable clothing. Your coat sure look protective, is it fireproof? Would we like to find out childr... I mean colleagues?"

She not smirking now. But expression change again to one of strange cold triumph.

"Mr. O'Scrote, may I congratulate your son on his entrepreneurship, the Authority will be pleased to learn that our persuasive programme has been a complete success. Do ensure you pay minimum wage to your new recruits Signor Liberali. I do hope that your business will not incur any sudden downturns that require me to return."

Several vans appear from nowhere and Mrs. Flinter and her thugs pile in, zooming off at high speed towards Westminster.

Grateful urchins crowed round, tears of gratitude in parent's eyes.

"When's payday" say Billy, as single unit they hold out hands.

The heat is off

I host meeting of Liberali Euro Enforcers in Little Sicily tonight. It not warm but I want to show off new garden grill, so we hosting outside on terrazzino, using patio heaters to keep out the chill. To help out, my friend Capo 'Supertram' Mulholland, serving the drinks. It task we occasionally give to junior Capos as it important they learn to show respect before being allowed to rise up the ranks in the Inner Circle.

Guests arrive one by one. There's Signora Lynne of the Rochdale Cyrils, the Baroness, 'Glasgow Slasher' Attwooll, Badboy Billy, Signora 'Cheery' Bowles, the other Baroness, 'Mumbles' Duff, 'Wildchild' Wallis, 'Junky' Davies, and 'Euronut' Watson who currently leader of group.

This group of hardened killers responsible for massacre of many of our opponents. Although no danger to me, I still feel shiver of terror down spine in presence of so much murderous talent. For instance, last man to cross Junky Davies end up fleeing to Conservatoris for protection after a ruthless massacre of his caporegime across the North West territories. I careful to greet each with care and attitude of humble respect, as they gather in garden.

"Alwight a*******s, any you old t*****s want a drink" say Supertram.

The Baroness not look amused

"A vino would be delightful" she say

"F****** choice" he say pouring a small glass "Get your gnashers round that grandma, and flop your a*** on a cushion."

"Charming..."

Euronut is looking at me in way he usually reserve for Signor 'Little Sicilian' Hannan of the Conservatori enforcers. Enforcers take a very dim view of bad language. Very traditional world they live in.

"Shall I load the c****** steaks on the barbie Don?" yell Supertram

"Er thank-you yes" I say as Enforcers, ignoring further offers of beverages, get down to business of discussing Reform covenant between the Euro families.

Not something I understand much about, but Don Clegg careful to explain to us all last week that it covenant not contract, although all the words the same, and this why best to let Enforcers get on with it rather than troubling wider Family. I no understand why this important either, but Don Clegg very clever man, so assume it for best.

Suddenly there knock at door and I remember we misssing 'Nanny' Hall, perhaps the most dangerous Enforcer of all. Only woman alive who can silence Don Clegg and Signor Huhne with a single look.

"Give it a f****** push, it's open" shout Supertram

An icy blast blow through house as Nanny make her way to garden.

"Hello Fiona" say Euronut "do take a seat, we were just discussing the key matter of the qualified subsidiarity proportionality test to the allocation of turf-rights in the distribution of cross-border sub-prime transaction swindles, and Signor Liberali was flipping burgers."

"I will not seat myself in proximity to the devil heaters" she say

"Um... what?" say Euronut

Nanny lift accusing finger towards patio heaters. "The devil heaters" she wail "the symbol of Hades that burns the vapours of the emtombed trees of ages past, polluting our skies with prehistoric carbon. It must not burn!... It must not burn!..."

"Burger?" I say

"Aieeeeieieieiei" she scream "animal charred on the griddle of Satan, take me away from this place of evil."

"c*******-hellfire" contribute Supertram

"Perhaps it would be prudent to turn off the garden equipment?" suggest Euronut

This I do and Nanny appear to calm down.

"I will chew an organic carrot while I compose myself" she say.

So we return to meeting. Everyone soon wretched with cold, and less than satisfied by salad with ice-crystals forming on tomatoes.

But no-one appear to have heart to move inside after I indicate might have 100W halogen light-bulbs in every room and 1970s chest freezer in kitchen likely to set Nanny off again.

Still least Supertram go quiet, so maybe some benefit to this simpler-way after all.