Drewsy and me hit the pub. – Sorry ah couldnae tip ye oaf in time, Drewsy. It wis the music. Ah never heard the sneaky cunt. One minute nae sign, the next the cunt wis standin over ays watchin you daein yir wee dance.

– One ay they things, Lloyd, Drewsy smiled. – Good fuckin laugh though, eh. Did ye see the cunt’s face?

– Did ye see yours?

– Right enough! he exploded with laughter.

DREWSY PEYED AYS and we drank up. Ah got a taxi up tae Haymarket and got oan the train tae Soapdodge City. When ah got off at Queen Street ah took a taxi up tae Stevo’s flat in the West End, travelling the same distance as in the Edinburgh taxi but for about a third of the price. It reminded me what cunts Edinburgh taxi drivers were. Ah wis nearly fuckin well cleaned oot already. Ah would have tae try tae flog they shitey Es ay The Poisonous Cunt’s.

Claire, Amanda and Siffsy were at Stevo’s and they were all getting togged up. – What the fuck’s this fashion parade fir, man? ah bleated nervously, checking the inadequacy ay ma ain togs.

– Wir no gaun tae The Sub Club now, cause Roger Sanchez is on at The Tunnel, Claire said.

– Fuckin hell … ah whinged.

– You’re awright, Stevo said.

– Ye think so?

– Aw aye, Claire nodded.

Siffsy kept buttin in and oot ay the front room, treatin it like a fuckin catwalk. He wis takin ages. – Ah don’t know about they shoes n strides wi this toap, eh said.

– Naw, ah said, – the strides dinnae really go wi the toap, eh no.

– Ah cannae no wear the toap though, man. Sixty-five bar oot ay X-ile. Thing is, if ah wear they broon strides they’ll clash wi the shoes.

– We need tae go, said Claire rising, – c’moan.

Amanda and Stevo followed her lead. Ah couldnae get it together to stand up, it was a cracker ay a couch, you just sank doon intae it.

– Hud oan a minute! Siffsy begged.

– Get tae fuck, Stevo shook his head. – C’moan, Lloyd, ya fuckin east-coast poof. Ye fit?

– Aye, ah said, rising.

– Ah’ll no be a minute … Siffsy pleaded.

– See ye in the next life, Stevo said, exiting, as we followed. Siffsy came behind feeling self-conscious about the Gordon Rae’s.

HIS EMBARRASSMENT EVAPORATED at The Tunnel. They Es Stevo had got were shit-hot, much better than the crap I’d brought through if the truth be telt. Roger S was on fine form and we were well away with it when we headed back to Stevo’s the next morning. Siffsy started tae get self-conscious again as the E ran down, and fucked off hame tae get changed. Ah dropped one of The Poisonous Cunt’s ‘business’ acids back at the gaff on the proviso that if her eckies were shite then her acids wouldnae be too hot either.