‘Aw dunno … we’ll need tae fight over him, won’t we Monica?’

‘Aw we will that, doll! Wee stunner like Azzy Williams!’

‘THAT’S THE FUCKIN BUS HERE, EVERYCUNT!’

We aw bail oot the block ae flats n head fur the mini-bus. It’s a wee rusty sixteen-seater beaut n booked tae take us over tae Braeheed, on the other side ae Glesga. It’s aboot a forty-minute drive roughly. Danny n Kenzie ir takin a last toke ae a joint by the back doors. Everywan’s shoutin n it’s a fuckin riot. The bus driver looks ragin awready. We aw bounce on the bus n grab a seat. A git a text, it’s Wee Toffey. HOD THE BUS A GOT A TICKET!!! A jump up n shout, ‘WAIT! WEE TOFFEY’S COMIN! HE’S RUNNIN DOWN THE NOO!’ There’s cheers aw roon.

‘Thar he blows! Drive on, driver!’ Big Eck’s shoutin in the driver’s ear. We aw look oot the left side n right enough Wee Toffey is sprintin doon, hair aw gelled, in a white tap wae rainbow coloured writing, wavin a bottle ae Tonic over his heed. He’s gonnae smash that! wan ae the lassies is sayin. He dives on the bus n the driver pulls away in a bad mood. Ma wee main man looks heavy excited. A move over n me, Toffey n Monica sit on two seats. The bus rolls aff n everywan cheers again. A kin see Big Kenzie n Eck buggin the driver’s nut aboot a CD n he puts it on grudgingly. He’s earnin his dough the night.

Big Kenzie is ravin n shoutin, ‘UP A BIT, ELD YIN!’ The bus’s crackly eld speakers come tae life. Guru Josh Project, ‘Infinity’. Everywan goes mental. The driver’s shakin his heed. Tam’s still on his feet n shoutin fae the aisle.

‘ALL ABOARD, FUCKIN YTP! FANTAZIA HERE WE GO!’

We’re in the queue, n yi kin hear the basslines somewhere ahead n we see the waterfront. There’s thousands ae ravers floatin aboot aw dressed in a neon explosion, white boiler suits n masks n fancy dress. Aw the lassies huv on tiny wee tutus n no much else. It’s a fuckin raver’s fantasy. We’re aw bouncin n dancin in the queue. Everywan’s in a heavy good mood. Nae hostility, just love n peace. We’re nearly there. There’s aboot a hundred polis at the gate n guys n lassies ir being separated ahead tae be searched. A’ve git ten eckies in a wee bag, tied roon the button hole in ma boxers tae secure it. They’re white sharks. Ten disco burgers, swedgers, sweeties n ecktoplasm tae take us tae planet Janet.

A guy waves yi forward n frisks us aw doon. We pass an amnesty bin, fur any last-minute hesitaters. We’re ushered intae a straight line. There’s aboot fifteen guys. Wee Kenzie n that ahead n Addison, Finnegan n Big Kenzie wae me. A polis in a blue cap walks oot wae a cocker spaniel n starts goin doon the line. A don’t think a dug kin smell pills or at least A hope no. The wee sniffy spaniel makes his way past wae a wag ae the tail but nuhin else. The polis gets tae the end ae the line n we’re waved past n the para subsides as we bounce in tae the actual event. Perty time.