Sentence TheFourhundredandeightyfourth  

Which was when a chubby young man walked into the café and stopped in his tracks, staring at Lulu: “who the fuck is this,” she said to herself; but when he walked straight over, hand extended, a tartan shirt flapping loose over what looked like a woman's underwear, it was Father Mungo he addressed: “Muckle Mungo as I live and breathe, you'll no ken me, ma faither wiz Big Billy Broon,” and

Mungo's eyes opened wide in delight, “an ye're Wee Wullie Broon? aw growed up, an followin in yer Da's fitsteps is it noo?” and the young man laughed, sitting down beside Lulu: “ma feet's no the size o his clodhoppers, but am makin' ma wey in the business,” and Lulu recognised the cadences of a Weegie in his speech, “av jist cam doon fae Aiberdeen, are ye's gaun tae the Reunion in Kent?” and Mungo indicated Lulu, “this bonny lass is takin me therr, Lulu, can ah interodooce Master William Brown, son o ma auld Tag Partner, Big Billy?” and as they shook hands, Lulu admitted: “ah kinda worked that yin oot fer masel, Faither Mungo,” and then asked Wullie: “is there enuff dosh in it, noo it's no oan the telly?” and the young man shook his head ruefully, “naw, hen, maist o us still hustae hae a day joab, jist like in ma Da's and Faither Mungo's time, grapplin taks dedication, sno fur the faint-hertit, but when ye've tae traivel up an doon the country, therr's nae mony joabs'll gie the time aff,” so Lulu asked him: “whit dae ye dae when ye're nae Grapplin, then?” and Wullie reddened, but replied: “well, am urny funemployed, if that's whit ye're hintin at, ah write aboot classical music fer the Herald, aye it's troo but, an there's aye concerts oan in Glesca that ah preview an review, new CDs, an reissues on CD o sumo the great auld recordins – it's a farraginous kindo life, but it suits me - wirr getting tae be a bigger venue an Embra – am sorry if that's whaur ye cumfae,” but Lulu straightened herself: “am fae Gullane!” she said proudly and defiantly, and Wullie conceded his apology for assuming the worst, “ah weel, never assume,” said Lulu grinning at him, “it maks an ASS o U an ME!” and Wullie joined Father Mungo in self-deprecating laughter, then told Lulu: “when ah wizza wean, ah coodnae work oot how ma Da wiz ma Da an' this yin wiz ma Faither, an then a thocht it wizza honorific, like cawin sumdy Prof, cozze kens lang wurds, or yir Corner-Man, Doc, cozze cairries smelling salts anna styptic pencil, an wenna fund oot he wizza Parish Priest, ye cooda knocked me doon wi a Flyin Dropkick; an thon wiz the day a discovered Jesus, Mary an Joseph, an av bin a Cafflick evva since – much tae ma Da's chagrin, as ye can magine, efta aw, he's no cried Billy fer nuffin, born an bred in Brigton, and he winked at Lulu who, inexplicably, found herself

winking back; this Wee Wullie may be a crackpot, but he had personality and a warm manner which drew her into his orbit; and Mungo was asking him how he was getting to the Reunion - “av bin itchin, “he said, jist goat aff a fish lorry fae Aiberdeen – can ye no tell?” and both Lulu and Mungo realised the source of that salty sea-tang at the same time, but it was Lulu who voiced what both thought: “well, ye're cummin wi us noo, Wullie me lad, gie yersel a quick wash whiles a order ye sum breakfast and then we'll be Johnny oan the road!”