Disclaimer: only most of the events and people in this narrative are based on reality
By Smokey Baloney
Special investigations editor
14 June 2011
This a story about the day they knifed The Boyler. It’s a bloody tale and it ain’t easy to explain, even now.
The Boyler ran a racket, okay, which I’ll tell you about in a minute. But he wasn’t a bad guy, really.
His scam was the old, old tale. He took money from the rich and handed it to the poor.
Some say it was robbery. Some say Robin Hoodery. Don’t matter now.
He had sidelines of course, mouthing off about this and that. His mouth was a sewer and in the end that’s what got him. So they say.
The main agenda was this soccer racket. He’d dabbled in this Supporters Direct thing for years. Too many years.
I’ve even been told he got sentimental about it at times. I mean emotional.
Anyways, let’s cut to the chase.
He was out with Bugsy the Paint, watching the game on the hokey feed.
His boys won. That was sweet. Too sweet.
The Boyler and Bugsy were on the moonshine. And then the Boyler flips out and goes all social network.
The Boyler pops one off about the Bible. I mean Christ! How tactless is that!
And then he starts riffing on Winky the Hucknall and the Concrete Cow Caper.
And it’s hot and he’s hot and it’s summer and he’s mad and he’s happy and he’s angry and Bugsy’s kinda egging him on, and it all gets out of hand and he says something he’ll regret about the guy at the law court.
It was out of order. He knew it even then, at some level. He certainly knew it soon after.
Bugsy wrote about the fateful day here. (And I’d urge you to read these accounts, because it might explain to the confused what the hell went down).
Jimmy the Conn has since chipped in with his accounts, first here, and then here, which also makes helpful reading for those having trouble keeping up.
But let’s get back to the hit, painful though it was.
Bugsy awakes with a bastard between the eyes. Holy Hell knows how The Boyler felt.
I ain’t gonna dwell on what happened next, but the guy was minding his own business in the park when at least one assassin put the hit into play.
Word on the street from the dark side of town is that it was just business, a straight comeuppance for the Bible shout and the Winky slur and the frankly tasteless jibe on the lawyer.
Word in the gutter says something different. Word in the gutter says there was an agenda at play.
I don’t know about that – but I been talking all week to the right kind of people. And they’re starting to squeal and blame each other. They didn’t mean to kill him, some of them say now.
I don’t know about that – but I leave you with the suspects. As I was told it. They might all be wrong.
Sleep easy fellas.
Suspects in the slaying of The Boyler:
Benny the Terrace: Benny and The Boyler had history out west. Benny had issues with the way The Boyler spent his green – too much diesel for the tractor. Benny liked to keep control and The Boyler liked a long leash. That’s not a marriage that’s gonna last. Benny got obsessive about control, then brutal. The bar bill was a step too far.
Tony the Pony: Slick as a bottle of Barbera Frantoia, and smug as a cat with a fish. Wanted some of The Boyler’s turf and didn’t care how he laid his claim. He ain’t done his own image any favours by getting into bed with Fat Al but swears he wasn’t near the park that day, not when it happened. He walked past hours later, he says. I kinda believe him but you don’t know who to trust.
‘Arry the Barf: A junior mobster by anyone’s standards, nicknamed for his obsequious toadying to any gatekeeper with access to life’s greasy pole. Mickey the Shadow insists that The Barf is harmless and maybe took the hit thinking the gun wasn’t actually loaded. Thought he’d just shout ‘bang’ at The Boyler to impress Basil the Hedge. Only Basil took it as a cue to pull his own tool. And if it wasn’t ‘Arry, then they say it started in his street. For sure.
Basil the Hedge: I don’t want to dwell on Basil because there’s some people you just don’t want to implicate. These guys have got long memories and long arms. The Hedge – so-called because he’s spent so many years growing quietly on the edge, next to the pond, with its newts and grubs – was in on it for sure. That’s what they’re telling me. But maybe on someone else’s orders. Normy the Nous says there’s a paper trail. But precisely how and when Basil made contact with The Boyler’s moll to inform her of his demise, who knows? Tony the Pony says … well … I don’t think I can tell you what Tony the Pony says.
Normy the Nous: I just don’t believe it was him because his style is to stick the knife in the front not the back. But Mickey the Shadow reckons Normy and Benny were both in on it. I don’t know. I don’t see it.
Clive Cannelloni: Some say he doesn’t actually exist; others that he’s a real person on a retainer with the politics guys – and that The Boyler was collateral damage in a war with The Man.
I’ll leave it with you.
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Author’s additional note on 16 June. Smokey Baloney writes: ‘I knew this was a tickly fixture when I started the assignment, fellas. But waking the morning after the piece before with a horse’s head in my bed, stamped with a Preem-ya League logo between the eyes wasn’t what I was after. And for the avoidance of any doubt, Charlie The Pen ain’t no suspect and never was. So you people thinking it’s him up above got another one coming. That’d be shootin’ the wrong messenger. And Mikey the Leeway is clean on this, for sure. Most def. It mighta been his game back in the ’90s, but he was last seen chasing a camel with a satchel of bonus.
As I said, I’ll leave it with you.
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