– Naw, what ah’m sayin is that the cunt thinks eh does, and eh thinks it in good faith. So for him it’s the same as it huvin happened. Personally ah jist think that he wis pure cunted and went intae the auld white room and had a hallucination, but he thinks it wis mair thin that. Neither ay us kin prove the other cunt wrong so ah huv tae accept that what the cunt says is real fir him.

– Shite. By that fuckin logic, man, some community-care cunt could tell ye he believes that he’s fuckin Hitler or Napoleon, and you believe that?

– Naw … ah say, – it’s no a question ay believin some cunt’s reality as they see it, it’s a question ay respectin some cunt’s reality as they see it. Of course, that’s as long as they dinnae hurt any other cunt.

– Declare a fuckin interest here but, Lloyd ya cunt: you’re jist backin the cunt cause ay the gig yir daein fir the guy, man. The Rectangle. Pilton. A Tuesday eftirnoon! It’ll be pony, Ally laughs.

– Sounds a wee bit dodgy right enough but, Lloyd, Monts laughs.

This bullshit is getting ays well nervy and hyper aboot this fuckin gig.

10

JUST TALKING ABOOT Woodsy got me nervous about the gig. The mair ah thought aboot it, the mair uncool it was. Woodsy was planning to have a rave at the Rectangle Club in Pilton (or Reck-Tangle as he’d put on the flyers) on a Tuesday afternoon. That was pretty fuckin weird in itself. Ah tried to get every cunt to come, but Ally said no way, just because of how he felt about Woodsy.

Amber and Nukes were up for it but, and Drewsy ran us down in the van. When we got there nae cunt was around except the hall caretaker. Woodsy already had his decks, mixer, amps and speakers set up. His gear was better than Shaun’s so I wanted a shot before I started.

Woodsy came in a wee bit later with this minister cunt. – This is Reverend Brian McCarthy of East Pilton Parish Church. He’s supporting the gig, Woodsy telt us. This straight-peg cunt in a dog-collar grins at us. Ah wondered if he was eckied.

Ah didnae huv long tae wait before findin oot cause Woodsy goes, – Ah’ve goat some fuckin good Es here, and handing one over to the Rev., urged him, – Neck it, Bri.

– I’m afraid I can’t take … drugs … the poor cunt sais, looking horrified.

– Neck it, man, neck it and find the Lord, says Woodsy.

– Mr Woods, I can’t condone drug-taking in my parish …

– Aye, well, whaire’s aw yir parishioners then, eh? Woodsy growled, – Yir church wisnae exactly stowed oot when ah wis doon last Sunday. Mine wis!

There were some wee kids and some mothers and toddlers coming into the hall. – When’s this rave startin then? a woman asked.