We get up to The Poisonous Cunt’s and Solo is in, as well as a couple of mates called Monts and Jasco. Ah was embarrassed as Solo started talking tae ays. Ah couldnae make oot a word ay it. It sounded like he was forcing his syllables out slowly through his nose. As The Poisonous Cunt went to the kitchen to stick on the kettle and get some blow, Monts stood behind Solo with a smirk on his face and pushed out one cheek with his tongue, in the cocksucker gesture. He and Jasco were like nothing more than two vultures circling over a large wounded animal. Ah found it sad, and ah felt sorry for Solo. It reminded ays ay a piece ay film ay Muhummad Ali ah’d seen oan telly, stricken from his articulate buoyancy by Parkinson’s, probably brought on by the fight game. The Poisonous Cunt, when she came in, reminded me of Don King, manipulation screaming through a smile of searing delight.

– You gaunnae take that gear doon tae Abdab for ays then? she enquired.

– Aye, ah told her. Abdab was an old mate ay mine down in Newcastle. The Poisonous Cunt was sorting him out with some shite and ah was delivering. It was a Paddy Crerand ah didnae feel like running. Ah only agreed to do it to see Abdab and his Geordie mates and have a night oot doon thair. Ah always liked Newcastle. Geordies are just Scots who can’t blame the English for them being fucked up, the poor cunts.

Jasco starts giein ays a hard time. Ehs normally a cool cunt but ehs been a bit nippy lately. Too much freebasin gaun oan wi the cunt. – Listen, Lloyd, if ah’ve goat a heidache ah’ll take some paracetamol.

– Eh? ah goes.

– And if ah’ve goat a bad stomach ah’ll take some bicarb soda.

Ah’m a wee bit too slow oan the uptake the day tae suss oot the cunt’s game.

– Git oaf ehs case, Jasco ya cunt, Monts sais.

– Naw, listen, Jasco continued, – the point is, ah didnae huv a heidache or a sair stomach the other night. Naw. What ah wanted was tae git oaf my tits oan Ecstasy. So why did this cunt sell ays paracetamol and bicarb? He pointed at me.

– Moan tae fuck, Jasco, ah said defensively, – they wirnae brilliant Es, granted, and ah telt ye that fae the off, but they wirnae that shite. I kept it light cause it was like Jasco was in the mood where he couldnae decide whether or no he was bein serious or havin a jokey wee wind-up.

– Did fuck all fir me, man, he moaned.

– Hundred and twenty milligrams ay MDMA in them, the boy telt me, The Poisonous Cunt said.

That was bullshit. You were lucky if there was fifty mills in those Doves. You had to neck them two at a time for any buzz at aw.