– Fuckin hell, man, ah’m totally in love wi this wee chick, ah tell him, hudin up a pair ay scanties tae the light and trying to mentally visualise a nice fuckin hologram tae fit intae them. – How auld dae ye reckon she is?

– Ah’d say between fourteen and sixteen, Drewsy smiles.

– What a fuckin ice-cool wee bird, ah say, looking through the spot-on-sexy collection of undies. I take out Blur and put on Oasis who are giving it laldy and ah don’t really like bands being mair ay a club sort ay cunt but ah decide that I’m up for this. Ah go back to my skirtings but Drewsy’s still intrigued.

Ah look up and jump as Drewsy’s dancing around tae the music, but he’s goat a pair ay the lassie’s knickers stretched ower his heid and his glesses oan toap. At that point ah at first think then I definitely know that I’m hearing something from outside and before ah can shout tae Drewsy the door opens and it’s the guy, Mr Moir, standing there, in front of Drewsy who’s dancing away. – What’s going on! What are you doing? That’s … that’s …

Poor Drewsy pulls the pants off his heid. – Eh, sorry, Mr Moir … jist huvin a wee joke, eh. Ha ha ha, he says adding a playful, stage laugh.

– Is that your idea of humour? Going through someone’s personal belongings? Acting like an animal in my daughter’s underpants!

It was that bit that got me. Ah started laughing uncontrollably. Ah had the Flight Lieutenant Biggles in a big way. Ah was contorting like ah was having a fit and ah could feel my face reddening. – Heagh heagh heagh heagh …

– And what are you sniggering at? He turned to me, – You think that’s fuckin funny! This … fuckin sick imbecile rummaging through my daughter’s personal items!

– Sorry … Drewsy weakly lisped, before ah could speak.

– Sorry? Fuckin sorry are ye! Have you got children? Eh?

– Aye, ah’ve got two laddies, Drewsy said.

– And you think that’s the way a father should behave?

– I’ve said I’m sorry. It was a stupid thing tae dae. We were just having a laugh. Now we can stand here and discuss how faithers should behave or me and my mate can get on and finish the job. Either way, you get billed. What’s it to be?

Ah thought Drewsy was cool, but the cunt Moir didnae think so. – Take your tools and leave. I’ll pay ye for the work that you’ve done. You should think yourself lucky you aren’t getting reported!

We tidied up, the cunt coming back in and moaning at us occasionally, oblivious tae the fact that he was carrying his daughter’s underpants around with him, clenched tightly in his hand.