The Stealerant: What’s in a Name?
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Names. What’s in a name? John from Derby had a habit of pulling a single hair from his head and tickling his nostrils or ears while talking softly in a nasal manner with occasional sniffles. He was good at crosswords and, in a glancing moment, nailing the essence of someone in a nickname. Eddie and John were sitting in a Seven-Up signed café with a blue No. 6 cigarette sticker in the window and within earshot of a Gottlieb Pin Table, pushed beyond tilt for the thump of a replay. The hissing name-badged hot water Still, stamped with a royal crest, steamed into a stainless steel teapot. The wooden drawer till, with its dirty brass handle, tinkled feebly and the tomato sauce bottles, crusted round their screw necks, were cut with vinegar. John and Eddie were enjoying a fried breakfast with a slice and a mug of tea: the most important meal of the day, setting you up, filling the tank and lining the stomach.