Tina is kneeling in front of Clare and leaning forward threateningly and I sense that aggro is but just split seconds away. In such an explosive situation a man has to stay cool, I think fast, and arrive at a split-second decision. I reach for my y-fronts and start to pull them on. If you start by saving yourself thatâs always one life on the credit side.
âYou ! ! ! ! ââ
âNow girls,â I say. âYou musnât ââ I reach for my trousers and turn round to see â blimey!
CONTENTS
Title Page
Chapter One
In which Valentina, an Italian ice cream lady, nearly garrots brother-in-law Sid and proffers exquisite retribution to Timmy after an unpromising beginning.
Chapter Two
In which Valentinaâs mum arrives and an unexpected love idyll is rudely interrupted.
Chapter Three
In which Timmy goes to buy some ice cream tricycles and meets dissatisfied, passionate Pam.
Chapter Four
In which Sid unveils his unique vehicle for selling ice cream and the family attend a taste test of the first batch of Mumâs ice cream.
Chapter Five
In which Timmy goes down to the library to get some Italian ice cream leaflets translated and becomes involved with Tina and Clare who have come under the Italian influence.
Chapter Six
In which Timmy prepares to go out on his first sales foray.
Chapter Seven
In which Timmy bumps into Mrs Betty Gregson on the job and is forced to do naughty things with her by a kinky and mistrustful husband.
Chapter Eight
In which Timmy makes an ice cream action painting with an uninhibited lady called Sybil who has an artistic bent and a desire to experiment.
Chapter Nine
In which Sid gets the ice cream concession at the Clapham Open Tennis Tournament and things start to go wrong.
Chapter Ten
In which things continue to go wrong and get even worse when Sid and Timmy find themselves closely involved with Mrs Brewer and her sensitive daughter, Henrietta.
Chapter Eleven
In which Sid prepares to exhibit at The International Ice Cream Manufacturersâ Great Exhibition
Chapter Twelve
In which everything hinges on the result of the competition for the best ice cream.
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Copyright
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CHAPTER ONE
In which Valentina, an Italian ice cream lady, nearly garrots brother-in-law Sid and proffers exquisite retribution to Timmy after an unpromising beginning.
âFifty thousand quid a year,â says Sid.
âYou what?â I say. I thought he had dropped off over his pint but this is clearly not the case.
âIâve just worked it out,â he says, nodding towards the ice cream van barely visible beneath a pall of kids. âThatâs what that Frascati geezer is taking home to his old lady and the bambinos. Three a minute at an average of ten pence a time. Thatâs eighteen quid an hour â make it twenty to keep to round figures. Start around ten and finish at six. Thatâs a hundred and sixty quid a day. Six-day week. Thatâs nine hundred and sixty nicker a week. Fifty-two weeks in a year. Thatâs fifty thousand quid near as damn it.â
âHeâs not working flat out all the time,â I say. âThereâs no market in the winter.â
âHe switches to hot dogs and field dressings during the football season,â says Sid. âEven if he was only working half the year thatâs twenty-five thousand quid. Canât be bad. Iâve always said you canât go wrong flogging nosh â provided you work for yourself, of course.â
âI never remember you saying that,â I observe.
âThatâs because you never listen,â says Sid. âYou just sit there wondering how long you can hang onto that pint so that you donât have to buy another one.â
âI bought the last one!â I tell him.
âWhat does it matter?â says Sid. âYouâre so petty. I donât pay attention to things like that.â
âThatâs what Iâm complaining about,â I say. âYouâre as tight as a french letter on a bollard.â
âWhat a disgusting way to talk,â says Sid. âI donât know what your bleeding mother would say if she could hear you.â He drains his pint and sighs. âOh dear, itâs always the foreigners, isnât it? Theyâre the only people making any money in this country at the moment. If the Arabs havenât bought it, itâs only because the Pakistanis and the Chinese wonât sell. You have to go the other side of Thornton Heath to see an Englishman.â
âI donât understand it,â I say. âIf weâre in such desperate schtuck why are they rushing to get in?â
âBecause their standards are much lower than ours,â says Sid. âTheyâll accept things no Britisher would tolerate. Cold beer, that kind of thing. What they put up with at home makes this country seem like paradise.â
We watch an Alfa Romeo glide to a halt beside the ice cream van and a slim, dark girl get out and shake back her tawny black hair. She is wearing black satin trousers that cling to her high-hitched arse the way the outer skin of an onion is moulded to the inner layers. The pencil line of her panties runs round the curves like a contour line. She bends to get something out of the car and a parched cry of need breaks from Sidâs throat.