– Ah’ve known hard times n aw, that’s aw ah’m sayin, says my mate Red Sandstone Boy, as I snap back into my body with a shuddering jolt.

Ah still seem to be just breathing oot. There’s nae sense of breathing in and if the breathing mechanism is part of the subconscious which it has to be, is that no precisely what the acid fucks up?

Precisely; Holmes. That means you are up shit creek, you daft cunt. – Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha Flight Lieutenant Biggles reporting for duty, sir. Biggles, old man, don’t stand so bloody close to me and put away that weapon while I’m talking to you. Did ah tell ye that your breathing is rather laboured, it’s aw fuck fuck fuck fuck

– Take it easy, mate, here we are.

No breathing.

No no no think of a Garden of Eden type scene where there are loads of sultry naked women lounging around and all of a sudden who should be here but Lloyd but the faces ah can’t get the fuckin faces right n what if these cruel bastards in the research labs were to give dolphins LSD? I’ll fuckin well bet it’s been done before the cruel cunts. Amanda’s showed me that stuff she gets stuff through the post that goes oan aboot what these cunts dae tae cats and dugs and mice and rabbits but that’s nowt; that would be real cruelty: giein a dolphin LSD.

We are not now moving. Moving now not. Now we are not moving. We are somewhere else. Somewhere enclosed.

– What’s the fuckin score?

– Take it easy there, yir hyperventilatin … I’ll get ye a wee bevvy.

– Whair the fuck is this?

– Stay cool, mate, it’s ma restaurant. Gringo’s. Gringo’s Mexican Cantina. Hodge Street. This is the kitchen.

– Ah ken this place. Ah came here once. Barry cocktails. With ma then girlfriend. We drank cocktails. Ah love cocktails. Want one want one want one want one … oh excuse me, mate, ah’m fuckin trippin oot ay ma box here. PHOAH! Yuh cunt ye! Aye … my ex-girlfriend. Her name was Stella and she was nice. We didnae love each other but, eh no, mate. It’s nae good unless there’s real love thair ken? Ye cannae settle for second best. What aboot the cocktails though, mate? Eh?

– S’okay pal. I’ll make ye one. What is it ye want?

– A Long Island Iced Tea would be nice.

Nice. Ah keep saying that word, thinking that word. Nice.