‘Azzy, aw that’s forgot aboot, fuck sake. A’ve hud the wee man noo n A’m no runnin aboot anymore.’

‘Yi think A’m ir? A moved away tae git away fae aw this fuckin shite.’

‘Wit did yi come back fur then?’

‘Usual pish.’

‘Well, yi did go wae Patricia Lewis.’

‘Aye, yir no wrong. Somecunt’s just put ma maw’s fuckin windae in.’

‘Fuck sake, cunts ir needin tae fuckin grow up.’

‘Aye, tell us aboot it. A’m no wantin any fuckin trouble. When wull cunts git that in their heeds?’

‘A’ll tell yi wan thing – yi hardly see a soul doon this way noo right. Most ae them huv weans n aw that or ir away workin somewhere, or wae burds n aw that. But Matty n Si ir still gawn fur it hammer n tongs. They’re both movin powers ae gear fur they Maynards noo. That’s how A’m no runnin aboot wae them. A’m no needin aw that aggro.’

‘Fair enough, man. Aye well, cheers then.’

‘A never hated any you cunts. It wis aw just a fuckin laugh, cuz, but it went too far wae yir boy gittin done. A wouldnae put ma name tae that. Fuck that Young Toi shite. It’s aw done wae noo. A hear Big Kenzie is expectin a wean anaw?’

‘Aye he is, man. Fair doos fur sayin that aboot Toffey. Cunts ir still determined tae drag me back tae the shite.’

‘Kenzie’s burd knows ma burd. Fancy that eh? The famous Tam McKenzie hus fuckin calmed doon.’

Div looks aboot then leans in the motor. ‘A’ll tell yi wan thing fur free, Matty n Si ir still lookin fur yi. They’re worse than they used tae be, honestly. The two ae them think they’re fuckin gangsters noo. If you’ve tae watch fur anycunt, it’s those two fuckin dicks, awright? But yi didnae hear it fae me.’

‘Sound as.’

‘Just keep me n ma family oot it? Awright?’

If a man comes tae yi in peace, it’s wise tae accept it.

A Match Made in Heaven

The eld barbers A used tae go tae is down the high street. It kin be a hotspot fur cunts yi don’t want tae meet but. Monday mornin is usually sound though, apart fae the odd dodgy cunt goin down tae sign on. There’s a wee eld barber workin n a couple ae young lassies, wee tidies just oot ae college. Hairdressin is the choice profession ae young women fae ma school. Whereas guys went tae ‘git a trade’, they talked aboot being health n beauty technicians or hairdressers or carers or social workers. A’m sittin on the benches inside, waitin. There’s an eld cunt wae a Daily Record sittin bumpin his gums over the last couple ae sports pages. The shop hus a fresh lick ae paint but it always smelt ae a mix ae fags, Barbicide n Brylcreem. There’s yellowed pictures ae good-lookin cunts fae the eighties wae mad suave fuckin doo-cuts n leather jakits n aw that. Only haircut yi seen in here is a short back n wallop. ‘Aye, son, over yi come. Wit yi huvin the day?’ the eld cunt asks.