Free The Deportees by Roddy Doyle Page B

dried his ear. And he watched as Kerri the Yank took the microphone from Paddy.

15 I'm Checkin' Out, Go'om Bye
    —Hello-o? Kerri said to the mic.
    —Hello, said every man in the tent, except Jimmy and maybe ten others.
    Young Dan led off this time – DOO DEH DEH – and they all went after him.
    —Hello-o, said Kerri. —Is this Harlem seven seven seven eleven?
    —Yeah!
    —John? said Kerri. —Is this you-ou-ou?
    Young Dan took off his fedora and put it over the bell of his horn.
    —WA–UH–WAH–AAAH—
    And Kerri started to sing.
    —I THOUGHT I'D PHONE YOU—
    I HOPE YOU AIN'T SICK—
    —DOO DEH DEH
    —COS I'M CHECKIN' OUT—
    GO'OM BYE—
    It was great, brilliant, better than Jimmy could ever have expected.
    —NICE TO HAVE KNOWN YOU–OU
    YOU WERE—
    MY BIG KICK—
    —DOO DEH DEH—
    He'd been getting a bit bored with Woody Guthrie. All that dust, it got on your wick after a while.
    —BUT I'M CHECKIN' OUT—
    GO'OM BYE.
    That was the thing about this gang. They'd play anything and make it theirs. A nursery rhyme, a rebel song, a good song, or any old syrup served up by Westlife or Mariah Carey, they'd give it the slaps and turn it into three or four good minutes of jumping, swaying, hard-rocking loveliness.
    —YOU TRIED AN OLD TRICK—
    —DOOH – DEH—
    They'd slow it right down, or laugh it into life.
    —YOU FOUND A NEW CHICK—
    —DOOH – DEH—
    Here now, they'd hopped from Woody Guthrie and Duke Ellington, and no one had noticed.
    —BUT I WAS TOO SLICK—
    —DOOH – DEH—
    They were happy up there. And Jimmy knew: they were staying.
    —I'M – IN – THE – KNOW—
    YOU'VE – GOT – GO—
    THE – CAKE – IS – ALL – GOIN'—
    Jimmy's right.
    —TOO BAD OUR BLISS—
    The Deportees will stay together.
    —HAS TO MISS OUT LIKE THIS—
    For years and albums.
    —I'M CHECKIN' OUT—
    GO'OM BYE.
    They'll get better and quite well known. They'll tour Wales and Nigeria.
    Some of them will leave, the band or the country; others will join, and some will come back. Leo will leave, home to Moscow. Kerri will be the second to go. She'll have a baby, and another, both girls, and she'll write regular articles for the Irish Times on the joys and demands of stay-at-home motherhood. Kenny will leave, and come back.
    —I only went to the fuckin' chipper, boy.
    Gilbert won't be deported. He'll out-sprint the Guards on Grand Canal Street, outside the Registry Office. It'll be a close thing. The Guards will have the tail of Gilbert's jacket in their fingers when they'll be stopped; the flying weight of his future daddy-in-law will deck the pair of them. And Gilbert will marry the birthday girl. Jimmy will be the best man, and Fat Gandhi, out on his own bail, will be their chauffeur for the duration of the honeymoon, a month-long tour of our great little country.
    —Did you have mountains like them in Nigeria, Gilbert?
    —No.
    —They're something else, aren't they?
    —Yes.
    —YOU TRIED AN OLD TRICK—
    There'll be no more little Rabbittes. Jimmy will have a vasectomy.
    —YOU FOUND A NEW CHICK—
    A birthday present from Aoife. And it will hurt. Especially when Mahalia drops the Pet Sounds box-set into his lap, half an hour after he gets home.
    —S'oop John B!
    But he'll recover. He'll be upright in time to lead his band into the studio for their first recording session, a surprise novelty World Cup hit, called 'You Might Well Beat the Irish But We Won't Give a Shite.' Jimmy's share of the royalties will buy half a wide-screen telly, and a box of Maltesers for Aoife.
    —I love you, Jimmy.
    —I love you too, bitch.
    —How's the war wound?
    —Not too bad.
    —BUT I WAS TOO SLICK—
    Their first album will be big in Chad and banned in parts of Texas.
    —I'M – IN – THE – KNOW—
    YOU'VE – GOT – TO – GO—
    THE – CAKE – IS – ALL – GOIN'—
    Mary's son, a scrawny kid called Zeus, will replace Kerri. Agnes will go home to Seville for Christmas, and come back with a drummer from