‘Ah yi look fine, son! Is your face sore?’ she says, laughin.

‘Mine? Nah … just a scratch fuck.’

Taz is lookin nervous n it’s almost infectious.

‘Happnin, Taz,’ Wee Kenzie says quietly.

‘Fuck all, boays. A just heard wit happened, couldnae believe ma ears. You want tae watch, Azzy mate, that Whytey is Big Eck Green’s half-cousin. That’s how he gits away wae actin like a ticket.’

The hushed whispers n glances aw start tae make sense. A git that wee sick feelin in ma stomach but shrug it aff. There wis always somebody or their mad cousin gonnae smash yi or stab yi fur suhin or nuhin. That’s yir best n only defence aboot here, the boldness inside. ‘N fuckin wit, mate. A couldnae gee a fuck whose cousin it is.’

This wis obviously too much fur Taz tae hear in public. ‘Aye, well, nae bother,’ he says and makes a sharp exit.

‘Gonnae start callin him Casper,’ Danny says.

‘How’s aht?’ Broonie says wae a mooth fulla penny sweeties. The cunt wis always pocket munchin a fifty pence mix-up aff the van in a wee white paper bag.

‘Cos everytime there’s trouble he disappears, the cunt.’

‘Ha! Tazper the friendly ghost!’ Broonie shouts.

‘Taz is a shitebag fuck … ma big brur always says it.’

‘Aw here we go! The incredible tales ae Big fuckin Tam.’

‘Finnegan, shut yir daft mooth, mate. You talk aboot this big cuz tae no end! Dain they weights as if yees ir Scotland’s strongest men! Two ae yees ir built like bookie’s pens, man. Seen more solid burds in the Time Capsule swimmin! Skindiana Bones yees ur!’

Finnegan cannae come back fae that wan. ‘AHHH! SHUT DOON!’ everycunt shouts. We aw laugh. Even though Kenzie lives aff Tam’s coat tails, his ain patter is decent.

‘Calm doon, fuck. Am no worried anyways, troops! Know wit A mean?’ A say, glancin over tae the burds n winkin at the troops. The lassies laugh.

‘Welcome tae the team, boys. A think you’re goin to fit right in,’ Patricia says as she turns tae leave.

‘Aye, well nice tae meet yees again, by the way.’

‘You too, son, just be careful this doesn’t come back to haunt yi. Mon, Monica, A needty get up this road to watch ma wee cousin.’

‘Nice tae meet yees, ya cuttla stunners!’ Danny is shoutin.

‘Bye, Azzy Williams,’ Monica says, givin us that mad look again.

The re-enactments n the storytellin begin. A cannae be arsed listenin tae it the night. Finnegan n Broonie ir rollin a joint in the corner. A go over n chap a draw ae it. As the red n orange tip glows against the navy-blue sky, n the bombers fall like embers fae a campfire, ma story echoes like a ghost story roon our wee camp. People start headin hame or on tae elder wans’ flats n gaffs. Me n the boys walk up passin the joint between us, aw buzzin aboot our first night wae the troops.