Farewell Frank the Fairy
Posted in Old blogger by Twenty Major on October 26th, 2005
Frank the Fairy (as me and Jimmy used to call him when he wasn’t anywhere near us) grew up around the same area as me and Jimmy. A bigger chancer and gangster you never met. He’d have stolen from his mother’s corpse. He was unassuming looking but he was dangerous too. He once tried to sell me a pair of shoes with the feet still in them.
He was also as bent as a £7 note. If there was a shirt to be lifted he would lift it. If there was fudge to be packed he would pack it. If he had a female friend her name would be Dorothy and if there was a closet he would come out of it. Everybody knew he was gay but nobody ever took the piss out of him for it. Well, apart from John-Paul Ryan who was in another gang and called him a faggot in the pub one evening. Frank just smiled.
“Fancy a pint, Ryaner?” he asked.
“Not from you. Might catch something”, said Ryaner a split second before Frank’s pint glass shattered all over his face. He never saw out of his right eye again and nobody ever called Frank any ‘gay’ names to his face again.
As you might imagine someone as quite clearly insane as Frank spend a lot of time inside. He was in and out his whole life for various things. Burglaries, aggravated assaults, robberies, joyriding, drug dealing and he once got sent down for 6 months for pouring a paper cup full of piss over a policeman outside Lansdowne Road one night. He achieved true legendary status during one spell in Mountjoy in the late 80s though. Whilst inside he befriended one of the prison’s most dangerous lifers. If you got on the wrong side of him your time, as bad as it was to begin with, would become a living hell.
Ronnie the Skank was sent down for 4 consecutive life terms in the 1979 for a series of murders, one of which was of a gay barman who got battered to death in Fairview Park late one night. The gay barman happened to be the love of Frank’s life but obviously Ronnie didn’t know that when they became fast friends, and prison being prison, more than that. Ronnie, although ocassionally a taker was much more of a giver, and Frank used this to his advantage.
One day Frank did a deal with one of the catering staff and got a massive helping of baked beans mixed with lentils which he washed down with coca-cola and brown bread. Ronnie used to do Frank in the laundry room and while he was going at it hammer and tongs Frank let rip an enormous fart which sent a bubble of air up Ronnie’s chopper, into his blood stream and caused a massive pulmonary embolism which killed Ronnie on the spot.
Of course nobody could prove anything and Frank got away with farting somebody to death. He found it much harder to get his hole though. ‘Don’t fart on me, Frank!’ we’d kid when he made a rare visit to Ron’s and he’d stick his arse out at us and go ‘Eh? Eh? Anyone feeling suicidal? I just had semolena!’
He spent his latter years semi-retired but would, from time to time, commit some kind of violent crime to give him that bit of spark he needed. Yesterday he died in sleep having managed to embed a hatchet in the back his head before he went to bed.
He was a horrible cunt really but they don’t make them like that anymore. RIP Frank.