‘Want tae find oot? Two ae us wull take yi oot the front n kick fuck oot yi. Azzy’s nae stranger here. He’s wan ae the real cunts.’

‘Calm doon, Tam. It’s awright. If yi wanty fuckin faw oot wae me, John, then fuck yi. Yi kin piss aff.’

‘Aye we’ll see, ya dick. Don’t dare try n bounce back up here n start dishin it oot.’

A’m on ma feet noo n awready yi kin see Kenzie fillin his nappy, the wee cunt. Aw mouth as he fuckin always wis. Tam winks at me n holds an open hand up tae me. ‘It’s awright, Azzy. Let the fuckin wean huv his tantrum. Aw the boys wull be glad tae see yi anaw, dunno wit yir takin the fuckin huff fur, fanny baws.’

‘Cos.’

‘Well then, if any them huv git anyhin tae say tae Azzy, they kin say it tae me anaw. Awright? A’m the fuckin gaffer!’ Big Kenzie says, puffin his chest oot.

A’m laughin n even Michelle smiles a wee bit tae hurself.

‘Aye nae bor, eld yin! We’ll see. You’ll be changin nappies – leave runnin the scheme tae me.’

‘Runnin the scheme? Yi couldnae run a raffle, ya fuckin jobby! Aw yi ever did wis run, so you’ve plenty experience! Eh, Azzy? Should be callin him the Roadrunner instead ae that skinny fuckin polis!’

A’m laughin n flappin ma hand, aw mooth. A gee him the fuckin look. He cannae keep ma eye contact n he shites himself.

‘Shut the fuckin door on yir way oot. Dunno wit yir here fur anyway, ya wee dick. Yir no wantit.’

‘Aw aye, that’s remembered then, Tam, ya prick.’

‘Piss aff, wee man. Huv you no git a scheme tae run? HA! Mad Jambo McKenzie – the Scheme Runner … yi better watch, Azzy, fuck! This cunt’s heavy runnin the scheme n aw that!’ We’re aw laughin like fuck. Yi cannae help it. Big Kenzie’s a funny bastard. Wee Kenzie is ragin.

‘Aye, aye, Azzy, wulnae be that when Matty n that find oot yir back. They’ll rip your fuckin heed aff fur hittin his burd. You’re stull due wan fur that n yi fuckin deserve it ya beasty bastard!’

Yi always know when Tam is gonnae whack somecunt. Yi see him takin the dragon breaths through the nose n tensin up. It comes quick n he springs oot wae a right n sends John tae the deck. A cannae see him behind the couch but A kin hear him fuckin whimperin like a wean. A kin see blood on the wall behind him fae his beak. Michelle looks ragin. ‘FUCK SAKE, THOMAS! STOP IT!’

‘Tellin yi, John. Yir tryin ma patience, son. Ma burd’s fuckin pregnant n you’re comin in here startin on our pals. Git tae fuck, ya fuckin liability.’

‘Right. A’m away.’

He doesnae look back. Just skulks oot the door n away. Big Kenzie is calmin doon, his breaths gittin less deep, that eld madness retreatin wae it.