‘Awright, Azzy.’ A turn slowly, stickin ma eggs in ma big pocket. It isnae a friendly greetin. A’m faced wae five cunts. Allen, Matty, McVeigh, Si n of course, the man himself, JP. It’s him who walks up first. He’s smilin n the rest ae them know A’m caught. A sigh as A take a draw ae ma fag. Jamie’s face is aw bruised n cut fae earlier. It’s ma turn again. ‘You’re a fuckin dead man,’ JP says.

‘Aye, how’s that?’ A say back.

‘Cos it wis yooz that taxed our fuckin plants!’ McVeigh says.

‘Wit plants?’ A say wae a smile.

‘Yi fuckin know wit plants, ya smug-faced wee cunt. We want they plants back, or the dough. It wis fur Marcus.’

‘Aye, well, let him shag your fuckin maw then, Matty. She’s priceless fur an auld dear.’

‘You’ll no be laughin the morra.’

‘Aye A wull, cos it’s you boys that ir gonnae git it fur the plants. No McIntire’s responsibility tae chase cunts cos your set-up git robbed. We’ll sit n git a healthy smoke n watch yees git fucked fur it.’

They seem tae stall in their accusation cos they know it’s the truth. Marcus McIntire isnae gonnae do their dirty work fur them. It’s the other way aboot. Anyhin else is fantasy.

‘FUCKIN INTAE HIM, BOYS!’

The night A’m feelin lucky. A launch the paper at them n start sprintin, dain backs wae them bailin after us. A cannae take a kickin the night. It’s been too good. A’m breathin hard in the fog. Ma trainers ir slippin in the wet mud of flowerbeds n front rockeries. A’m slidin on stones, pebbles n driveways. The five ae them ir chasin after me, sprintin hard n fast. A deck it n bounce right back tae ma feet wae a cut knee. There’s nae time tae pull oot phones n try n git back up fae the troops. A’m on ma own.

A’m back on the road, sprintin doon towards ma hoose. Ma breaths ir fucked, short n painful. Every time A inhale it’s a fatal stabbin in ma sides. Aw ma muscles ir geein up, burnin n screamin fur oxygen that isnae comin. A’m tryin tae take as much in as possible. A kin feel ma face flamin red n A’m sweatin under ma Berghaus jakit’s lining as A run. A cannae keep goin much longer. A’ve still got tae slope them before ma bit. A’m on the pavement poundin ma trainers aff the tarmac. Ma heels ir killin me n even ma toes ir hurtin fae the asphalt slaps. A’m nearly there. There’s an electric substation over the next garden wae a tall spikey fence. It’s too tall n A’m caught. First roon the corner is Allen. A start runnin at him. He stands bold but A kin tell he’s shat it. A grab his grey Berghaus n rattle the nut on him n lay the cunt oot. A try tae run on. It’s the eld classic. A feel ma legs gittin sweeped away fae me. A’m recoverin, determined no tae go doon n take the onslaught ae boots n stamps. Wan ae the cunts volleys ma ankle. A try tae put the foot oot n it’s no there. Mayday, we’re goin down.