Daily Diary: Your Local Hitman
THIS week on Daily Diary, WWN reached out to one of the nation’s busiest hit-people to see what a day in the life of a contract killer looks like in today’s environment.
6am: I’m up earlier than usual today, thanks to a leaflet-dropper putting a flyer for a new take-away in my letterbox and waking the dog. Sometimes I think I should be more open about what I do for a living, then people might actually start paying attention to ‘no junk mail’ stickers.
9am: After breakfast its answering emails, letters, voicemails, and coded messages sent in the small ads at the back of newspapers. ‘Wardrobe needs dismantling, Laois area’. That means someone wants their business partner offed. ‘Ironing service required urgently; top rates paid’- that’s a ‘run someone over for life insurance’ job. ‘PS4 for sale. No longer play due to getting PS5. 100e collected, Waterford area’. That’s just a good deal, I might get that myself.
10am: Just lost out on a hit in Cavan due to pricing. What else. This woman wanted her husband shot, but we couldn’t agree on a price. I’m not busy at the minute so I agreed to a cut-price deal if she threw in diesel money and plastic shoe-coverings. She okayed that but then she got back to me saying that she forgot she’d also have to fork out the price of a burial for the bastard which was eating into her profit margins so the whole job fell apart unless I knocked another hundred off. How is someone supposed to make a living with that nonsense going on?
11am: Oh fuck, I almost forgot my 11am appointment- call round to a new drug dealer on the scene and plug two behind his ear so nobody thinks about opening shop on this turf again. Honestly, when you start this job you plan each hit for weeks in advance. But when you’re at it as long as me, you find yourself just watching Loose Women in the middle of the day with a nagging feeling that you should be somewhere doing something else.
1pm: No time for cooking so just grab a panini and a Yop in Spar.
3pm: Another text from a potential client. ‘Can you kill my spouse for me please? How much?’. Fuck me, have people forgotten that divorce is legal in Ireland? Why did we even bother having that referendum?
4pm: Head to the local football pitch to help with the u15s team. My job here is to collect the dirty jerseys and togs and bibs at the end of every session and put all the balls into a big net and make sure to pick up all the coloured dribbling cones. It’s my own fault for not reading that advertisement in the shop window properly. Why did I think it said, ‘local football team needs hit man’?
7pm: Fucked up big time today; was driving home but lost track of my thoughts, drove myself up the mountains and set fire to my own car. Force of habit kicked in. Had to walk an hour home. What am I like lol.
9pm: No jobs tonight so it’s maintenance time. People think this life is all glamour and black suits and sunglasses and The Matrix and all this craic. I wonder do they know how much of it is 90 degree boil washes because some lad got sick on your trackie bottoms while pleading for his life?
11pm: Bedtime. It’s a lot easier to sleep these days than it used to be. I used to lay awake hearing the cries of my victims, seeing their blank dead faces looking back at me every time I closed my eyes. Not anymore. ASMR – total game-changer man.