tartan bunker

Thinking of God set me thinking of BT, which was pre Dekaydence Telecom. What tartaned me off about BT was that the poor wee beggars sitting at BT hq didn’t have a listed telephone number. Why am I surprised? BT bosses didn’t want people ’phoning them. Communicate with people. No, no, no. That just wastes time.

Thinking about it some more, BT may be the reason why God hasn’t been in touch in recent years. S/He gave up trying to get through. Having pressed all the buttons, given all the usernames (of which s/he has many), God was left holding on for half eternity, listening to the BeeGees’ Stayin’ Alive, you know the version that’s been put through a food processor, backwards, while the BT call centre operative went off and did an honours degree in humanities. Thank Dekaydence for the adservarum, or as young people prefer to call them, ad’ums.  I hope someone thinks to give one to God.

Is God on sabbatical? Having created the universe in seven days, you’d think helping out the poor and needy here on earth would be as quick’n’easy as whipping out an aspirin. I cannae get my head round the fact there are some 98 varieties of chocolate biscuits in a supermarket and a few hours’ flight away - no, not even that - people are starving to death. Or being beaten, burnt or tortured, for doing nothing other than believing in something or somebody. That’s why I joined Dekaydence, to see order restored. To remind people, especially the young, that with rights, come responsibilities. How come I know that? Even wee MacMog knows that. But some young people apparently don’t. So, they’ve got to learn . . . 

Name’s MacCavity. I’m Head of Dekaydence Security. Boss of the Tartan Guards, Red and Black. I can tell you they’re a handful, whatever tartan they’re wearing: The Blacks are the tough guys, shielding their eyes behind red tartan sunglasses. The Reds? Well, think Labrador crossed with poodle. It’s the Reds who are in charge of the haggoids, the wee, wild metal dogs wi’ their infra-red eyes which survey and send back information to Dekaydence hq.

Dekaydence? It’s a global corporation into media, sweets and much more beside. I work for the main man, Signor Lorenzo di’Abalo. As does, Randall Candelskin, a nervy young man who worked once for the UK’s Prime Minister.

So why does a businessman need a tartan army for security? That’s for you to find out. Battle commences in Black Light, the first book in the Chronicles of Dekaydence, out August 2008. I’ll clock in wi’ you on Sundays, when I take my break from the smoke and sit here by the sea in North Berwick, in ma tartan bunker, with ma wee cat, MacMog.