In the hoose ah couldnae settle. Ah wis phonin every cunt up and spraffin shite. Ah hud a red phone bill n nae dosh tae pey it, so ah always just go for it at times like that. Ah kept thinking about how ah got involved with The Poisonous Cunt. It was a while back, basically for reasons of finance. I’d do deliveries for her and Solo, who was like her boyfriend or husband or something like that. Solo was a radge, but since he’d received that bad kicking from this other firm he had never been such a potent force. He seemed slow, like sort of brain-damaged, after he was blootered unconscious. As Jasco once put it: – They ambulance radges that scraped Solo oaf the pavement seem tae huv left a wee bit ay the perr cunt behind.

Ah must admit that ah wasnae particularly heartbroken, but while he was a bad bastard, ye eywis kent where ye stood wi Solo. The Poisonous Cunt was a different matter. Ah should have suspected the worst when ah belled her and she wouldnae come to the phone. The Victim telt me that ah ‘wis tae come round’.

When ah got there the front room was mobbed out. In a corner The Victim sat quietly, looking out the window, her large black eyes tense and furtive, as if trying to anticipate fae where the next shattering blow was going to come into her life. Bobby was there, displaying a smile that dripped sinister contempt. Monts was there, totally wasted, too wasted to even speak to me, while ah picked out Paul Somerville, Spud Murphy and some other cunt ah vaguely recognised. Solo sat in his wheelchair in the corner. It was a fuckin hammer house ay horrors right enough.

– The Poisonous Cunt got off her tits last night, Bobby informed me. – Freebasing coke. She’s oan a brutal bastard of a comedown. Ah dinnae envy ye, Lloyd.

Ah didnae need this shite. Ah was just here tae dae a bit ay delivering. Ah went through to The Poisonous Cunt’s bedroom, tapping on the door first, and hearing a throaty rasp which might have been come or fuck off, but ah entered anyway.