Читать книгу Roy Shaw Unleashed - He's a one man killing machine. This is his story by those who know him best - Roy Shaw - Страница 12
ОглавлениеROY WAS ENJOYING HIMSELF. Admiring the view. Wherever you get powerful men and money, you get pretty girls and there were plenty at Terry Spinks’s party.
‘The brunette or the redhead?’ I joked.
‘I was thinking about the blonde,’ he told me, nodding towards a young lady at the bar.
‘A bit …’ I was going to say ‘young’ but then I saw his expression and thought better of it.
‘Do you want to know what Alan said about you?’ I asked.
‘He told you I was a gentleman.’
He did as well. ‘How did you know?’
Roy smiled.
‘We were talking about how you got into boxing.’
‘It was my dad’s brother started me off. Uncle Alf. He took me to a boxing booth when I was 11. Up the Commercial Road. We used to go to any boxing shows we could find. I knew even then that God had given me something.’
‘Your fists?’
‘Not just that. It was something else. Like a sort of strength. When I started fighting, I felt an adrenalin rush. An anger came over me like a red mist.’
‘Does it still?’
‘If I’m provoked,’ he told me calmly. ‘In those days, it was like a high-voltage current setting me alight. I couldn’t feel anything – cuts, knocks, pain. It didn’t matter if I got hit. It was an overwhelming urge to lash out. BANG! BANG! BANG!’
Roy’s fists were clenched and his face was red. I took a step backwards.
‘It was all my feelings coming out.’
‘Was it to do with losing your dad so suddenly?’
Roy nodded. ‘That was it. I wanted to hit back. I didn’t know what I had in me to start with. But Uncle Alf saw it. And when I’d whacked my opponent and seen him cowering in front me, finished, it was like a primeval satisfaction. I can’t explain it properly. I was trying to get my own back. Nobody was going to take anything away from me again. I wasn’t going to be afraid of anything … ever.’
‘What about your first fight?’
‘Uncle Alf took me to a circus tent. It was the Smith Brothers, they were putting on fights. He’d been trying to teach me, shadow boxing and tapping my face, that sort of thing.’
‘Was he psyching you up?’
‘He asked me if I was ready for it. I told him I was. But when it came to it, I felt a bit of nervousness. My opponent was a big lad and he’d fought before. He’d got all the proper kit, shorts and boots and a dressing gown.’
‘What did you have?’
Roy laughed. ‘I must have looked a sight. I’d got my sister’s swimming costume as shorts. And I was wearing plimsolls. The gloves were miles too big. They weren’t mine. The bloke before had been wearing them and they were sweaty.’
‘You didn’t have much of a chance.’
Roy smiled. ‘That’s what the kid I was fighting thought … until I got going. He made a fatal mistake. He tapped me on my chin …’ Roy growled like one of his Rottweilers, ‘… it made me remember those bullies in the playground. It sparked me off – my anger was like a hot furnace inside of me, it was burning me up and I couldn’t wait. It didn’t matter about the gloves and the plimsolls. I went straight at him like a thunderbolt. The minute he came within reach, I let go with a big punch. CRACK! He went down on his arse like a sack of potatoes. The crowd went wild. Uncle Alf was jumping up and down. And I’d won £3!’ Roy’s face was shining. ‘There’s nothing better than a straight pound note, especially when you’ve won it fair and square.’
‘You knew you were meant to be a boxer then?’
He nodded. ‘There wasn’t just Uncle Alf saw my potential. I started training seriously and boxing took over. It was my life. Before I was 16, I’d won the Area Championship and the Essex Championship and the Schoolboy Championship.’
‘Glory days.’
‘Yes.’ Roy’s face had softened.
Looking back, I wondered if he regretted that it had all gone so wrong. ‘What did you think at that time? That boxing would be your career?’
‘I was going to be World Champion. I was earning money doing what came to me naturally.’
‘Fighting up and getting paid for it?’
Roy grinned. ‘Something like that, Katie. I even fought the Old Bill one night.’
‘One at a time, I hope.’
‘My Uncle Alf took me to a police show. I remember to this day what he said to me before I went in the ring. “Knock his fucking head off!”’
‘He didn’t like the Old Bill?’
‘He hated them.’
‘Did you just do the boxing or did you go out to work?’
‘My mother had got me a job at a machining works. I hated that factory. All I wanted to do was get out of there. It was full of mouthy, loud, gossipy factory girls. I’d rather have a slug-out in the ring than spend ten minutes with them.’
‘Did you have a girlfriend?’
‘Not then. I’ve had one or two later, though,’ he told me slyly.
I had to laugh. Roy’s womanising is legendary. Time to change the subject.
‘I’d managed to get away from the factory and I found myself a job in a timber yard.’
‘I bet that built your muscles up.’
‘Chucking massive beams about … it did. It was the best work I could have had. By the time I got my call-up papers, I was rock solid and I’d filled out. I was looking forward to the Army. I knew that the training would be tough but it would be good for me. They had boxing teams. That’s what I set my sights on. I was 18 and full of myself. The fights and wins had given me confidence. I had muscles like iron and one hell of a punch. I was like dynamite waiting to go off.’
‘Light the blue touch paper and stand back,’ I murmured.
Roy smiled. ‘Something like that.’
‘So where did it all go wrong?’
Roy shrugged. ‘I was anti-authority. All that ordering me about and telling me what to do. I thought the Army would be fair. I didn’t realise that there are bullies in all walks of life. This was like the playground all over again. But this time I was up against the system.’
‘And the system always wins.’
‘Not always.’
‘Why is that?’
‘I just used to freeze and then … whack!’
‘What happened?’
‘Well, I got the wrong side of the sergeant. He tipped my belongings on the floor because I hadn’t made my bed right. I thought it was a liberty. I didn’t like the way he talked to me.’
‘You didn’t know anything about the Army, did you?’
Roy laughed. ‘Not a blind thing.’
‘So you learned how to make beds?’
‘No.
‘I can’t stand bullies and the sergeant was a bully.’
‘You didn’t hit him?
‘I felt so raw and uncontrollable that there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t have stopped it no matter how much I wanted to. I didn’t want to. He didn’t know what was coming ’til he hit the ground. Then it all went fairly quiet. The other soldiers stood looking at me with their mouths hanging open. One of them said, “Where did you learn to punch like that?” I told him, “Where I came from, life’s like a dirt sandwich – the more dough you make, the less dirt you have to eat.” And even by that time, I’d made plenty of dough. I wasn’t going to eat dirt for anybody.’
‘What did they do to you?’
Roy shook his head. ‘You don’t want to know.’
‘Go on.’
‘Nine months in the glasshouse. And it was brutal. They did everything at the double. I whacked another sergeant on the way in.’
‘Why?’
‘He was a nasty bit of work. Talking to me like a fucking kid, trying to humiliate me. I couldn’t stop myself. I felt this explosion of anger inside me, the more I tried to keep it in, the more it was going to erupt. He asked me if I’d got it, like he was talking to a moron. “YEAH, I GOT IT,” I screamed at him. And then he got it! I smashed him in the face, I felt his bones go crunch, he was like red jelly when I’d finished. They were pulling me off and I was still slamming into him.’
‘How did they stop you?’
‘Sheer numbers. Six of them all piled in and dragged me off.’
‘One against six. You’d really blown it.’
An expression of sheer contempt crossed Roy’s face. ‘They dragged me bodily into a cell and then they held me down and beat me up one by one. They went on until they were too exhausted to punch me any more. I still tried to fight back, it was in my nature, but there were too many. Then they left me there. It was freezing and there were gaps under the door and holes. The wind howled all night.’
‘Were you badly injured?’
‘I suppose I was. But my body was like a rock; I’d been boxing and fighting and shifting timber … I was young and strong. I was covered in bruises and cuts and I couldn’t see out of my eyes there was so much dried blood.’ Roy was silent for a moment. ‘The next morning, they stripped me naked and dragged me outside.’ He took a deep breath. ‘It was the middle of winter and very cold. They took me into a yard and they’d got four officers with hosepipes … they turned these jets of freezing water on me. It knocked me off my feet. I remember thinking that I couldn’t breathe.
‘And they were laughing at me. That did it. The fire was still in me and I rushed at the dirty bastards … I was butt-naked but they weren’t expecting me to have any fight left in me and I ran straight at one of them. I got the bastard holding the hose and managed to grapple him down on the ground and turned the hose round on the others … they had a taste of it, I was blasting them with the icy water and they were squealing and yelling.’
‘Were they shouting for help?’
‘Yeah. A bit of icy water and they were like screaming little girls. They didn’t expect it.’
‘You’re good at doing the unexpected.’ I bit my lip. I’d heard people say he had the Devil in him when he was fighting.
Roy nodded. ‘I like to catch my opponents unawares. I was gouging and punching everywhere I could. Their mates came to rescue them. You see, they thought they were tough nuts because they were in the Army and wearing a uniform. But they were nothing where I come from. I wasn’t ever going to give in.’
‘Did they keep you locked up?’
‘It was a battle of wills. I had a cold shower every day.’
‘With the hosepipe?’
‘Yes. Until they realised …’
‘What?’
‘That I would never, never give in. So they gave in. Seven days and I was back with the other prisoners. Although that wasn’t much better. There were 14 of us in a unit; they wasn’t a bad bunch of lads and I got chatting to another prisoner. They let us sit in a Nissen hut and have a smoke – one cigarette each – then they counted the stubs. Although I didn’t smoke, it was just something to do. Anyway, this bloke started telling me about the boxing matches held between the units. He told me I ought to have a go. My aggression had been building up. It was the routine and the brutality. We were in the glasshouse, it wasn’t necessary. But, like most experiences in life, it taught me something.’
‘What was that?’
‘Survival. At first I’d fought back but the staff sergeants were ruthless bastards. They’d seen it all before. So eventually I realised what a lot of other men in prison before me have learnt, that I could only beat them by surviving.’
‘So you started boxing again?’
‘When they realised that I could fight, they got me regular matches. The staff sergeant took a shine to me. Because it was always a good fight.’
‘Did you win?’
‘Yeah. I was his protégé. I was doing good, all the pent-up aggression I felt was let out in the ring. He was proud of me. I was his star. They were tough nuts from all over the country. All of them had been kicked out of their unit for one reason or another. They’d have been in prison if they hadn’t been in the Army. They all thought they were tough, but to me they were big pussy cats. No problem. It offered me a way of releasing my aggression and doing the thing I loved best. Then my sentence ended and I was posted to Germany.’
‘Don’t tell me …’
He nodded. ‘Yeah. It all went wrong again.’
It seemed to me that Roy’s life had been like a series of theme-park rides, terrific highs then loop the loop, and he’d be spinning wildly into another crashing low.
