‘Sit doon, ya fuckin dick. Toffey’s family’s over there, ya ignorant cunt.’

‘Naw. A think yi should tell everycunt how yir fuckin slopin cos yi think yir too good fur everycunt noo. Aye, you n yir fuckin burd. Look the fuckin nick of yees! Pair ae riots!’

A kin see Tam growlin at him, gittin ready tae intervene. Wee Kenzie is shoutin, Sit down, Danny! He knows if the big yin gets up there’s only gonnae be wan endin. ‘Aye, Aye, John! A’ll sit doon when A’m good n ready tae. Aye, mad mental Azzy bhoy! Where wur yi when Toffey wis gittin plugged fuck oot ae? EH? Yi wur takin it up the shiter aff fuckin Tam in the jail, ya dick!’

A bounce straight by Patricia n attack Danny. A’m skelpin fuck oot him, right, left, right. He’s tryin tae fight back wildly but he’s rubber n A’m totally kosher, compos mentis. His nose is burst aw over the floor n cunts ir pullin me aff but A manage tae volley the heed aff him before A git dragged back. A’m seethin wae fuckin anger n the cunts holdin me loosen their grip, in fear ae gittin whacked a jab in the crossfire. Ma grief n pain made us superhuman, a wild animal, capable ae murder maself.

‘IT’S YOUR FUCKIN FAULT HE’S DEID, YA LOUSY CUNT!’

Danny’s face is in a state n he looks up fae the floor. Everycunt in the place is starin at us, shocked at the sudden violence. He looks fuckin wretched on the floor in a drunken mess n pishin blood oot his mooth. ‘Wit dae yi mean, ma fault?’

‘IF YOU HUDNAE SLASHED SI, THINKIN YI WUR FUCKIN MENTAL, NONE AE THIS WID HUV HAPPENED! A FUCKIN HATE YI, YA CUNT!’

Everywan is starin in silence. Patricia n Monica look horrified. Ma face is red wae anger n A kin feel ma pulse beatin in ma eyes. A want tae attack him again but he’s fuckin pitiful sittin in a heap. He starts greetin fae the floor.

‘A didnae mean it. A’M SORRY!’

‘It’s too fuckin late fur that noo. Git tae fuck.’

A put ma hands up tae show it’s over n nobody tries tae stop me on ma way oot.

A picture wit everybody else wid be doin the night we leave. Nae doubt fur Wee Kenzie n Danny it wid be back tae business. Livin two contradictory lives, one ae actin mental n chasin wee guys fur money n the other, hidin fae real cunts who ir after them n scrabblin tae pay their bill. Their lives revolved around the piles ae notes at the end ae the week, avoidin a kickin n makin a slim profit tae remind themselves it’s aw worth it. Headin always intae a storm ae trouble, in the predictable ways, yir downfall as a mental cunt or a dealer wid come sooner or later. They wid git set up, robbed, smashed, caught or end up wae a filthy habit ae their ain, which wid see them just as dead n buried.