Playing For Keeps
by Angus Shoor Caan
Genre: Drama
Swearwords: Some mild ones.
Description: Revenge is sweet. There are some people you should know not to mess with.
_____________________________________________________________________
At the ripe old age of thirty eight, Loris Moody took up going to church again. She even joined the choir although her shifts dictated she could only attend one in three practice sessions.
Age had nothing to do with her sudden return to religion, to a faith she had closed her heart to when both parents were cruelly taken from her within weeks of each other. ‘Accidents’, they said, ‘wrong place at the wrong time’, they said, ‘you never know when your number’s up’, they said. Loris didn’t agree although she said nothing. Neither did she let it embitter her but from the moment her father’s funeral was over, she told God he was on his own, she didn’t need him, that’s if he even existed at all.
What brought her back was part of an elaborate plan, a scam, a deep desire for revenge which took almost four months to come to fruition.
It all started when her bastard of a boyfriend traded her in for a younger model, another nurse. All tits and eyes and teeth, Celena was easily ten years Loris’s junior and now, now she had her man, the very eminent chief surgeon, Camp Lodger.
Camp’s wife, Rhoda, was the only person brave enough to call him by his full Christian name, and she did it mainly to annoy the shit out of him.
Campbell Stuart Lodger turned from mild mannered, studious graduate to lecherous, arrogant semi-psycho the minute he picked up his internship at St Rolf’s. Rhoda found him irresistible and all but gave up her own ambitions to provide him with children, three of them.
Loris was theatre sister and backed that up with a bit of overtime in admin. This gave her access to all manner of information and it was whilst sitting at the keyboard that she hatched her plan for revenge. Hell hath no fury and all that.
She had managed to juggle the rosters to keep the lovers apart but the bastard had cottoned on quickly, and used his powers of sway to see it didn’t happen again. It was back to the drawing board.
A familiar name caught her eye one evening as she went through the schedules, a long forgotten cousin. Not lost, just forgotten, the area address seemed to fit her last memory of the woman.
Meg Proudfoot was booked in for an operation on her bowel. Her condition wasn’t life threatening and Loris easily re-scheduled the appointment to suit her own needs. She sent out the apologetic letter with the new time and date, and neglected to sign it. After all, headed notepaper would be enough to authenticate it. The plan was taking shape nicely.
She actually found herself enjoying the choir despite having joined up with the intention of using it as a smokescreen of sorts, to give the illusion of a church going, God fearing citizen. Trustworthy in other words.
Five days after she’d posted the letter, Loris gave a satisfied sigh as the red tick changed to a green one. This meant Meg had both received and acknowledged it.
She had to make use of the Sat Nav for the drive out to the sticks, it had been a long time. The place appeared even more run down than she remembered it.
Meg didn’t know her at first and eyed her suspiciously, keeping the safety chain in its place and talking through the gap it allowed in the door. Once inside, Loris was immediately sure her plan had legs, the place was a dump and reeked of poverty. Meg lived alone, just her and an old cat which belonged more to the neighbourhood than to any individual in particular. She worked part time in a supermarket to make ends meet but those same ends were slowly drawing further apart.
Two relaxing cups of tea later and Loris dangled the carrot. Meg herself had brought up the forthcoming operation, saying how pleased she was she had kept up with her health insurance payments, it had been very tempting to let them slide. Without giving too much away, Loris outlined her plan and left Meg to think it over, no immediate hurry.
Gallows humour has long been part and parcel of hospital life, particularly of theatre life and Camp Lodger was a distinctly nasty exponent of it; so much so that several theatre employees had changed shifts, departments and even hospitals to get away from him. Not one of them ever complained though, a clear indication of how much clout he carried.
Meg was on board within three days. She would have called Loris earlier but had misplaced her number. She was ready, make that ready and eager to work in tandem with Loris and make a shit-load of money into the bargain.
Loris set up a dummy run. The listening device worked perfectly when she’d recorded the post choir meeting to try it out but she was keen to see how it would perform at work. Hooked into the front of her bra, there was no way it could be detected.
Five people present for the operation, six, including the patient, a hugely overweight woman who was to have a cyst removed under anaesthetic.
Camp was in top, show-off ‘look at me’ form immediately he was sure the woman was under.
“I should be paid extra for the layers of fat I have to negotiate,” he claimed.
Celena sniggered.
“I mean, I wouldn’t like to feed this one for a week. I’d have to get a second job to afford that.”
A chuckle from Celena this time.
“Imagine waking up beside this in the morning? Nightmare scenario. I think I’d shoot myself.”
That earned him a snigger and a chuckle, and a Doe-eyed look of adoration from Celena as she mopped the sweat from his brow.
The operation lasted twenty five minutes and Camp kept the vitriol going until it was time to close. That was the only time he appeared to be concentrating on the task at hand, his needlework being the envy of his peers since he took up the scalpel and something he liked to attend to himself rather than let an underling do it.
Loris played the recording through her laptop speakers and was surprised at how clear it was. Every word, every snigger could be heard along with the sounds of machines beeping in the background.
Meg didn’t run to a computer so Loris brought the laptop to her for their next get-together. She had decided to prepare Meg by playing her an example of what she would be contesting when the doo doo hit the fan, if only to highlight the degrading remarks Camp was capable of spouting. The recording only served to strengthen Meg’s resolve but to be fair, her resolve was plenty strong, with the prospect of a handsome pay-out and the chance to improve many aspects of her life overriding any negative thoughts she may have been harbouring. She was in.
Loris kept Meg in the dark regarding her true reasons for going after Camp. There was no need for her to know anything other than the fact the man was an ignorant, arrogant bastard who enjoyed alienating his co-workers and had scant regard for his patients. That seemed to be enough for Meg. Still, Loris kept close tabs on her cousin and paid off an outstanding phone bill so she could monitor her mood. It didn’t alter in the least, not even as the day of the operation approached.
In attendance, as rostered by Loris were, Anaesthetist Jack Darvel, a man who had constantly asked not to be rostered with Camp. It couldn’t be avoided on that particular day. There was Camp, of course, Loris as theatre sister, Celena and a student gopher doing necessary observation work with a view to becoming a theatre nurse.
Camp started in on Meg as soon as Jack gave him the nod that she was out of it.
“Nurse! Clean this area will you? How am I supposed to operate when some idiot has painted the patient with mud? He whined.
“I think it’s a birth mark doctor,” said Celena, before giving her customary giggle.
“A birth mark? You’d think it would have disappeared over seventy odd years, wouldn’t you?”
Another giggle, louder this time.
“The patient is forty two years of age. Can we get on please?” said Loris, impatiently.
“Forty two? She must have had a hard life. She looks to be eighty at least, and that’s me being kind.”
The giggle was more like a suppressed guffaw this time. Loris could only see the girl’s eyes but they were full of laughter; laughter and admiration.
“Just operate please. Or would you like me to re-schedule and someone else can do it?”
Camp gave Loris daggers, muttered under his breath and set to with the knife. He kept up a steady diatribe which was mainly derogatory and still aimed at his patient. Celena played along with her snorts and appreciative giggles.
Two hours later Loris was at the computer, catching up with some paperwork. She transferred the recording to a small mp3 player and then covered her tracks by deleting all evidence of it. Finding Meg had a couple of papers to sign, she printed them off, paged the gopher, cancelled her and took the documents to the ward herself.
Meg was still out but started coming round when Loris called her name. Loris put the player under the pillow and took a wink from Meg to say she was aware of what was going on. The documents were left with the ward sister as Meg feigned sleep, Loris would collect them later.
By the time the nurses got around to checking on her, Meg had listened to the recording twice. Another act, this time extreme anxiety, she wanted to speak with the surgeon who had operated on her. The ward sister involved herself then and the ball was rolling. The patient claimed to have heard every word spoken while she was supposed to be under anaesthetic, and she wasn’t happy. She wanted to speak to someone in authority and if not, she wanted to contact her lawyer, and the police.
It just so happened there was a board meeting in progress at that very moment, and, considering the severity of the complaint, it was interrupted rather hastily.
Loris was about to sign off for the day when she was paged and asked to make her way to admin. She tried to play it down at first in defence of the operating team but in the end, she couldn’t shed any light on the patient’s apparent ability to quote the surgeon’s running commentary during her operation. On reading what the patient had revealed to one of the directors, she refused to confirm it, she didn’t deny it either.
Loris had the recorder at the ready when Camp called her at home. He was agitated, slurring drunk and begging her not to testify if it went to court. She put the phone down on him. He called again and she told him to ring back when he was sober. She then left the phone off the hook and went for a long soak in the tub.
Someone invented an infection to keep Meg confined to the ward, someone high up. The hospital wanted to keep a lid on the matter, deal with it ‘In House’ and hopefully prevent a court case which would obviously harm their good name. A full enquiry was scheduled and the theatre team was suspended until it was sorted out.
Camp went to work on everyone involved but not before each of them had consulted with Loris, who assured them she would try her level best to smooth things over. When Camp finally cornered her she told him she wouldn’t risk losing her job and lie for him, and only swayed slightly when he offered to empty his bank account and pay her off. As a joke, she gave him twenty four hours to do just that, and she wanted it in cash.
Meg upped the ante on the following day, demanding answers to her many questions. She was now in her own private ward and taking regular visits from members of the board, one of whom was a high flying lawyer who promised her the best possible compensation deal, as long as she didn’t involve the police. When the first offer was put before her, Meg, working to instruction from Loris, made a point of considering it before letting them know it was nowhere near good enough and asking for access to a phone. Fifteen minutes later she was signing the disclaimer which had been drawn up to ensure her co-operation on the matter; quoting a much more suitable offer
Loris thought the holdall containing the best part of $200,000 to be the icing on the cake. Camp had delivered it within the allotted time but before she could claim it was a joke, he had come over all smarmy, even lecherous, like he had bought her silence on the cheap. She sent him on his way and stashed the bag behind the smoked glass panelling which surrounded her bath.
The split with Meg was 60/40, as insisted upon by Loris. The money changed Meg’s life dramatically, although she didn’t feel the need to move out of the area. She also kept on with her part time job so no one would suspect her circumstances had improved. Neither did she have any hard and fast plans to keep in touch with her cousin, eventually realising the whole thing had been a business deal and nothing else.
On the four day run-up to the enquiry, Camp pestered Loris for sex on no less than ten occasions, going so far as to promise to leave both his wife and Celena for her. Loris ignored him, told him she wasn’t interested and finally left the phone off the hook again.
Camp left the enquiry room as he’d entered it, full of aggressive confidence, smarm and charm. He had given a quite excellent account of himself to the board, bearing in mind he golfed with two of them and had carnal knowledge of another. He threw Celena a cheeky wink as he swaggered nonchalantly through the waiting room, and gave Jack Darvel a hearty slap on the back.
Celena was called in next. As she closed the door behind her, Loris told Jack and Maxi, the gopher, she would be telling the truth when it was her turn and, if they didn’t want to lose their jobs, they should follow suit. Jack looked relieved, Maxi weighed it up and soon, she too looked relieved.
When Celena exited smiling, Loris approached her and extended a hand. Celena accepted the handshake and found herself clutching a small memory stick.
“Have a listen to that when you have a moment,” advised Loris, “it just might be of interest to you.”
At around the same time, Rhoda Lodger took delivery of a package, it was addressed to her. She opened it to find a small memory stick similar to the one Celena had been given and, being the curious type, she made her way to Camp’s office to investigate.
Loris dug a deep, deep hole for Camp when she was invited into the room, and enjoyed every minute of it. Being fervently religious, she couldn’t possibly deny what had been said about that poor woman, and, truth be told, about so many others in the past too.
Maxi fell into line, as did Jack Darvel who also admitted to seriously considering quitting the profession in disgust at the chief surgeon’s antics, a little extra dressing for effect, his way of sticking the boot in
Camp was allowed to tender his resignation and was told not to expect anything in the way of a reference. He was also allowed to see his kids, under supervision, once per week. What he wasn’t allowed to do by restriction of court orders, was to contact either Loris or Celena for any reason whatsoever.
Loris kept on with the choir, something she really enjoyed, going so far as to jig the rosters to accommodate it. She soon took up with fellow chorister Darrell Mountjoy, owner of a chain of grocery stores and a widower. Darrell was all right, humorous, attentive and with a beautiful singing voice, he would do her just fine................just as long as he didn’t ever try to shit up her back
Swearwords: Some mild ones.
Description: Revenge is sweet. There are some people you should know not to mess with.
_____________________________________________________________________
At the ripe old age of thirty eight, Loris Moody took up going to church again. She even joined the choir although her shifts dictated she could only attend one in three practice sessions.
Age had nothing to do with her sudden return to religion, to a faith she had closed her heart to when both parents were cruelly taken from her within weeks of each other. ‘Accidents’, they said, ‘wrong place at the wrong time’, they said, ‘you never know when your number’s up’, they said. Loris didn’t agree although she said nothing. Neither did she let it embitter her but from the moment her father’s funeral was over, she told God he was on his own, she didn’t need him, that’s if he even existed at all.
What brought her back was part of an elaborate plan, a scam, a deep desire for revenge which took almost four months to come to fruition.
It all started when her bastard of a boyfriend traded her in for a younger model, another nurse. All tits and eyes and teeth, Celena was easily ten years Loris’s junior and now, now she had her man, the very eminent chief surgeon, Camp Lodger.
Camp’s wife, Rhoda, was the only person brave enough to call him by his full Christian name, and she did it mainly to annoy the shit out of him.
Campbell Stuart Lodger turned from mild mannered, studious graduate to lecherous, arrogant semi-psycho the minute he picked up his internship at St Rolf’s. Rhoda found him irresistible and all but gave up her own ambitions to provide him with children, three of them.
Loris was theatre sister and backed that up with a bit of overtime in admin. This gave her access to all manner of information and it was whilst sitting at the keyboard that she hatched her plan for revenge. Hell hath no fury and all that.
She had managed to juggle the rosters to keep the lovers apart but the bastard had cottoned on quickly, and used his powers of sway to see it didn’t happen again. It was back to the drawing board.
A familiar name caught her eye one evening as she went through the schedules, a long forgotten cousin. Not lost, just forgotten, the area address seemed to fit her last memory of the woman.
Meg Proudfoot was booked in for an operation on her bowel. Her condition wasn’t life threatening and Loris easily re-scheduled the appointment to suit her own needs. She sent out the apologetic letter with the new time and date, and neglected to sign it. After all, headed notepaper would be enough to authenticate it. The plan was taking shape nicely.
She actually found herself enjoying the choir despite having joined up with the intention of using it as a smokescreen of sorts, to give the illusion of a church going, God fearing citizen. Trustworthy in other words.
Five days after she’d posted the letter, Loris gave a satisfied sigh as the red tick changed to a green one. This meant Meg had both received and acknowledged it.
She had to make use of the Sat Nav for the drive out to the sticks, it had been a long time. The place appeared even more run down than she remembered it.
Meg didn’t know her at first and eyed her suspiciously, keeping the safety chain in its place and talking through the gap it allowed in the door. Once inside, Loris was immediately sure her plan had legs, the place was a dump and reeked of poverty. Meg lived alone, just her and an old cat which belonged more to the neighbourhood than to any individual in particular. She worked part time in a supermarket to make ends meet but those same ends were slowly drawing further apart.
Two relaxing cups of tea later and Loris dangled the carrot. Meg herself had brought up the forthcoming operation, saying how pleased she was she had kept up with her health insurance payments, it had been very tempting to let them slide. Without giving too much away, Loris outlined her plan and left Meg to think it over, no immediate hurry.
Gallows humour has long been part and parcel of hospital life, particularly of theatre life and Camp Lodger was a distinctly nasty exponent of it; so much so that several theatre employees had changed shifts, departments and even hospitals to get away from him. Not one of them ever complained though, a clear indication of how much clout he carried.
Meg was on board within three days. She would have called Loris earlier but had misplaced her number. She was ready, make that ready and eager to work in tandem with Loris and make a shit-load of money into the bargain.
Loris set up a dummy run. The listening device worked perfectly when she’d recorded the post choir meeting to try it out but she was keen to see how it would perform at work. Hooked into the front of her bra, there was no way it could be detected.
Five people present for the operation, six, including the patient, a hugely overweight woman who was to have a cyst removed under anaesthetic.
Camp was in top, show-off ‘look at me’ form immediately he was sure the woman was under.
“I should be paid extra for the layers of fat I have to negotiate,” he claimed.
Celena sniggered.
“I mean, I wouldn’t like to feed this one for a week. I’d have to get a second job to afford that.”
A chuckle from Celena this time.
“Imagine waking up beside this in the morning? Nightmare scenario. I think I’d shoot myself.”
That earned him a snigger and a chuckle, and a Doe-eyed look of adoration from Celena as she mopped the sweat from his brow.
The operation lasted twenty five minutes and Camp kept the vitriol going until it was time to close. That was the only time he appeared to be concentrating on the task at hand, his needlework being the envy of his peers since he took up the scalpel and something he liked to attend to himself rather than let an underling do it.
Loris played the recording through her laptop speakers and was surprised at how clear it was. Every word, every snigger could be heard along with the sounds of machines beeping in the background.
Meg didn’t run to a computer so Loris brought the laptop to her for their next get-together. She had decided to prepare Meg by playing her an example of what she would be contesting when the doo doo hit the fan, if only to highlight the degrading remarks Camp was capable of spouting. The recording only served to strengthen Meg’s resolve but to be fair, her resolve was plenty strong, with the prospect of a handsome pay-out and the chance to improve many aspects of her life overriding any negative thoughts she may have been harbouring. She was in.
Loris kept Meg in the dark regarding her true reasons for going after Camp. There was no need for her to know anything other than the fact the man was an ignorant, arrogant bastard who enjoyed alienating his co-workers and had scant regard for his patients. That seemed to be enough for Meg. Still, Loris kept close tabs on her cousin and paid off an outstanding phone bill so she could monitor her mood. It didn’t alter in the least, not even as the day of the operation approached.
In attendance, as rostered by Loris were, Anaesthetist Jack Darvel, a man who had constantly asked not to be rostered with Camp. It couldn’t be avoided on that particular day. There was Camp, of course, Loris as theatre sister, Celena and a student gopher doing necessary observation work with a view to becoming a theatre nurse.
Camp started in on Meg as soon as Jack gave him the nod that she was out of it.
“Nurse! Clean this area will you? How am I supposed to operate when some idiot has painted the patient with mud? He whined.
“I think it’s a birth mark doctor,” said Celena, before giving her customary giggle.
“A birth mark? You’d think it would have disappeared over seventy odd years, wouldn’t you?”
Another giggle, louder this time.
“The patient is forty two years of age. Can we get on please?” said Loris, impatiently.
“Forty two? She must have had a hard life. She looks to be eighty at least, and that’s me being kind.”
The giggle was more like a suppressed guffaw this time. Loris could only see the girl’s eyes but they were full of laughter; laughter and admiration.
“Just operate please. Or would you like me to re-schedule and someone else can do it?”
Camp gave Loris daggers, muttered under his breath and set to with the knife. He kept up a steady diatribe which was mainly derogatory and still aimed at his patient. Celena played along with her snorts and appreciative giggles.
Two hours later Loris was at the computer, catching up with some paperwork. She transferred the recording to a small mp3 player and then covered her tracks by deleting all evidence of it. Finding Meg had a couple of papers to sign, she printed them off, paged the gopher, cancelled her and took the documents to the ward herself.
Meg was still out but started coming round when Loris called her name. Loris put the player under the pillow and took a wink from Meg to say she was aware of what was going on. The documents were left with the ward sister as Meg feigned sleep, Loris would collect them later.
By the time the nurses got around to checking on her, Meg had listened to the recording twice. Another act, this time extreme anxiety, she wanted to speak with the surgeon who had operated on her. The ward sister involved herself then and the ball was rolling. The patient claimed to have heard every word spoken while she was supposed to be under anaesthetic, and she wasn’t happy. She wanted to speak to someone in authority and if not, she wanted to contact her lawyer, and the police.
It just so happened there was a board meeting in progress at that very moment, and, considering the severity of the complaint, it was interrupted rather hastily.
Loris was about to sign off for the day when she was paged and asked to make her way to admin. She tried to play it down at first in defence of the operating team but in the end, she couldn’t shed any light on the patient’s apparent ability to quote the surgeon’s running commentary during her operation. On reading what the patient had revealed to one of the directors, she refused to confirm it, she didn’t deny it either.
Loris had the recorder at the ready when Camp called her at home. He was agitated, slurring drunk and begging her not to testify if it went to court. She put the phone down on him. He called again and she told him to ring back when he was sober. She then left the phone off the hook and went for a long soak in the tub.
Someone invented an infection to keep Meg confined to the ward, someone high up. The hospital wanted to keep a lid on the matter, deal with it ‘In House’ and hopefully prevent a court case which would obviously harm their good name. A full enquiry was scheduled and the theatre team was suspended until it was sorted out.
Camp went to work on everyone involved but not before each of them had consulted with Loris, who assured them she would try her level best to smooth things over. When Camp finally cornered her she told him she wouldn’t risk losing her job and lie for him, and only swayed slightly when he offered to empty his bank account and pay her off. As a joke, she gave him twenty four hours to do just that, and she wanted it in cash.
Meg upped the ante on the following day, demanding answers to her many questions. She was now in her own private ward and taking regular visits from members of the board, one of whom was a high flying lawyer who promised her the best possible compensation deal, as long as she didn’t involve the police. When the first offer was put before her, Meg, working to instruction from Loris, made a point of considering it before letting them know it was nowhere near good enough and asking for access to a phone. Fifteen minutes later she was signing the disclaimer which had been drawn up to ensure her co-operation on the matter; quoting a much more suitable offer
Loris thought the holdall containing the best part of $200,000 to be the icing on the cake. Camp had delivered it within the allotted time but before she could claim it was a joke, he had come over all smarmy, even lecherous, like he had bought her silence on the cheap. She sent him on his way and stashed the bag behind the smoked glass panelling which surrounded her bath.
The split with Meg was 60/40, as insisted upon by Loris. The money changed Meg’s life dramatically, although she didn’t feel the need to move out of the area. She also kept on with her part time job so no one would suspect her circumstances had improved. Neither did she have any hard and fast plans to keep in touch with her cousin, eventually realising the whole thing had been a business deal and nothing else.
On the four day run-up to the enquiry, Camp pestered Loris for sex on no less than ten occasions, going so far as to promise to leave both his wife and Celena for her. Loris ignored him, told him she wasn’t interested and finally left the phone off the hook again.
Camp left the enquiry room as he’d entered it, full of aggressive confidence, smarm and charm. He had given a quite excellent account of himself to the board, bearing in mind he golfed with two of them and had carnal knowledge of another. He threw Celena a cheeky wink as he swaggered nonchalantly through the waiting room, and gave Jack Darvel a hearty slap on the back.
Celena was called in next. As she closed the door behind her, Loris told Jack and Maxi, the gopher, she would be telling the truth when it was her turn and, if they didn’t want to lose their jobs, they should follow suit. Jack looked relieved, Maxi weighed it up and soon, she too looked relieved.
When Celena exited smiling, Loris approached her and extended a hand. Celena accepted the handshake and found herself clutching a small memory stick.
“Have a listen to that when you have a moment,” advised Loris, “it just might be of interest to you.”
At around the same time, Rhoda Lodger took delivery of a package, it was addressed to her. She opened it to find a small memory stick similar to the one Celena had been given and, being the curious type, she made her way to Camp’s office to investigate.
Loris dug a deep, deep hole for Camp when she was invited into the room, and enjoyed every minute of it. Being fervently religious, she couldn’t possibly deny what had been said about that poor woman, and, truth be told, about so many others in the past too.
Maxi fell into line, as did Jack Darvel who also admitted to seriously considering quitting the profession in disgust at the chief surgeon’s antics, a little extra dressing for effect, his way of sticking the boot in
Camp was allowed to tender his resignation and was told not to expect anything in the way of a reference. He was also allowed to see his kids, under supervision, once per week. What he wasn’t allowed to do by restriction of court orders, was to contact either Loris or Celena for any reason whatsoever.
Loris kept on with the choir, something she really enjoyed, going so far as to jig the rosters to accommodate it. She soon took up with fellow chorister Darrell Mountjoy, owner of a chain of grocery stores and a widower. Darrell was all right, humorous, attentive and with a beautiful singing voice, he would do her just fine................just as long as he didn’t ever try to shit up her back
About the Author
Angus Shoor Caan is in his 50s, an ex-seaman and rail worker. Born and bred in sunny Saltcoats, he returned to Scotland after many years in England and found the time to begin writing. He is inspired by the Ayrshire coast and likes what he calls "real music". He also enjoys pool, snooker and is a big fan of rugby league side, Wigan Warriors. He has written several novels and one poetry collection and says that writing gives him "endless pleasure". His two ebooks can be viewed by clicking on the images below.
Angus tells us that all his stories on McStorytellers have been inspired by the titles of songs written by Paul Kelly, who is often described as the poet laureate of Australia.
Angus tells us that all his stories on McStorytellers have been inspired by the titles of songs written by Paul Kelly, who is often described as the poet laureate of Australia.