Another Day in Paradise

‘Look, it’s not my fault, okay?’

‘Yes, yes, yes,’ says the Indian voice on the other end. ‘But you need more to demonstrate you are looking for work.’

‘I’m trying mate, but what can I do?’

There’s a long pause before it talks again:

‘Okay, I credit you today, but you need more trying for tomorrow. Okay?’

‘Yeah, right.’

‘Sir, you must.’

Down goes the phone. Fucking dole people. I fucking hate signing on.

I’m out of bed and it’s into the kitchen.

‘Want some food?’ says mum. She’s smoking a joint over the frying pan. That fat fucker is so fucking unhygienic.

‘What you got?’

‘Doin’ some dogs.’

‘Yeah,’ I say, and it’s into the front room.

Little bro Ad is playing online “Team Stalkers”.

‘Go on Ad, fuck him up.’

‘Fuck off, Dave.’

One of his stupid little school mates is playing too. I whack him over the head with a newspaper.

‘Fuck off, Dave,’ he says.

I laugh and go over to the other tele. Pick a film. “Screwing Las Vegas”. I love the bit where the guy shoots all the casino guys and then bangs two bitches up in his hotel room right after. Fucking “A”. I watched it last night, but you don’t get all the good bits until you’ve seen it a few times.

‘Dave, you shouldn’t watch that with the children around,’ says mum, dumping four hot dogs and chips in front of me.

‘Where’s the fucking sauce?’

‘Oh … sorry, love.’

She gets it.

‘Don’t forget it next time, or I’ll cut your fucking throat!’

She laughs. Stupid cow. I mean it!

I skip to my favourite bit. Oh yeah, that’s class. Just rewind it and see it again. Do it in slo mo. Wicked.

These fucking dogs are swimming in grease, but I’m too Hank Marvin to refuse. It’s five o’clock. I’ve just got up. I done my business for the day, had my food and now I wanna get out and see my mates.

‘Laters, Ad.’

He ignores me. Fucking wanker.

‘Going out, Mum.’

‘When will you be back?’

‘How the fuck should I know?’

I’m out and the cool breeze tastes wicked man. Fucking “A”. Gonna get me something to start the day.

‘Yo! Adi, how’s it hanging my man?’ I say, striding forth to the fix-it man.

‘Dave, my boy. It’s a fine day. A fine, fine day.’

Fucking paki. Dressed up like a dog’s fucking dinner, and all he’s doing is standing on the street corner peddlin’ gear.

‘Boy? I ain’t no fucking boy!’ I tell the tosser.

‘Chill out, brother.’

‘I ain’t your fucking brother needer.’

‘Whoa man! You get outta the wrong bed?’

I look at him, all aggressive; he looks at me, all funny. I smile and so does he. Ain’t no point fucking up your dealer, is there?

‘Whatcha got for me?’

‘Got some Special X,’ he says, looking around.

I nod my head. Heard of that, it’s dangerous fucking shit.

We both look the other way as a patrol comes along, gives us the once over and leaves. Fucking cops. Fucking useless.

‘How much?’

‘Five Euros to you, my friend.’

‘Fuck! I only get tweny a day.’

‘And this five will be the best five you spend.’

I nod my head and walk to the cash machine. In goes the finger, tap the keys and five shiny Euros sit in the mitt.

‘Fucking robber.’

He laughs.

I sit down by the wall behind him, and fair play, he leaves me be. The pill slips down the hatch.

Fucking “A”! My soul leaves my sweaty body, through Adi and up into the fucking air. It’s G-fucking-force on my boat race and every breath is like an afterthought, not important, almost too fucking hard to bother with. Oh man! I’m dancing with the mother-fucking angels on the springy clouds … shit! This stuff is soooo good! My smile goes; I look down and see my feet are gone. Only my ankles are above the cloud. Then …  a sickening drop to my knees. I try grabbing the ground when I’m sunk to the hips, but my hand passes through it. I strain for one last look at those naked bitches and their golden harps as my head slips under and I see the grey city below. I’m falling faster and faster, the ground is getting nearer and nearer. The clouds shrink to cotton buds and then to white full-stops dotted against a sky that is changing from bright blue to grey, and then … then, the sky is empty and black. I look down and see the street whizzing towards me … I’m going to hit! … I’m going to hit! … close the minces! I grab the floor and stop, open my eyes and see Adi. My head feels like it is made of stone. I feel sick from top to bottom. I’m wet, I’m sweating. I think I’ve pissed myself.

‘You okay, man?’

‘Hey, fuck you, Adi,’ I say, rolling on the floor, trying to stand. ‘Fucking paki,’ I drawl at him. He shrugs at me - the scaredy-cat-fucking pussy.

I lurch down the street, bouncing off the walls, trying to keep away from the road. There’s a few people about and they’re looking at my sweaty self. Better stop. I walk to the edge of the pavement and out it pours: fucking dogs, swimming in fucking grease. I keep going until it goes dry, retching with nothing coming. I wish fucking bellies would know when to stop. I fucking hate trying to be sick when the gut is empty, it wastes so much fucking time! I feel like punching my stomach for it’s fucking stupidity, but my arms are keeping me from falling face-first into my own puke and they’re shaking with the effort. I’m in the High Street, the shops are closed, but it’s still early and people are heading for their night out. A couple have stopped and the bird is looking at me, getting nearer. She looks upside-down.

‘Just fuck off,’ I say. Nosey-parking fucking arse.

Over to the cash machine and out comes the last fifteen, then it’s into the drug store for some blow. Feel more relaxed straight away; the skank is good shit from there. Still sweating like I just got out of a pool though. It’s a totally cold-feeling sweat; I’m shivering like some damn fucking junkie. Five fucking Euros for two minutes fun and an evening of sweat. Where’s the value? Phone Trev.

‘Trev, you okay my man?’

‘Yeah …  you sound fucked, man.’

‘Yeah. Listen, wanna watch some films?’

‘Cool.’

‘What’s the time?’ I say, spinning around, searching out the clock tower.

How’s that? It’s eleven o’clock! Where’s the time gone?

‘It’s about eleven,’ he says.

‘I know, I can tell the fucking time. Where you at?’

‘We’re just hanging by the swings, man.’

‘See you in five.’

That shit blew a few hours out of my life without me noticing – fucking “A” – that shit must be serious shit.

‘You hunched over like an old fucking man!’

‘Fuck you, Gary.’

The group are lounging around the play area like a bunch of overgrown fucking kids. Two of the bitches are sitting on the swings, surrounded by four or five guys waiting to rip their fucking threads off, first chance they get. Claudia is there. I fucking like Claudia, I do.

‘Hey, Claudia.’

‘All right?’ she says, smiling.

‘Like those fucking legs.’

‘Eh?’

‘Shit,’ I say. Didn’t mean to say that, meant to just think that. Did I say that? I mean, did I just say that I didn’t mean to say that, or did I say that too? I say nothing.

She giggles and looks away. Fuck it, who cares.

‘Hey, Dave,’ says Trev. ‘Leave it out with Claud, eh? We’ve been chatting and I’m taking her back to my place.’

‘Thought you were coming back to mine to watch films?’

He remembers and shrugs. Fair enough, I say. A shag’s a shag.

‘Yeah mate, yeah, no worries,’ I tell him, with my hand on his stupid fucking bony shoulders. He gives me a cuddle and tells me I’m a good mate. Fucking faggot.

‘Whadjya do? You look wasted.’

‘Special X.’

The people ooh and aah.

‘Rahhh, that stuff’s s’posed to melt your brain.’

‘It’s class A shit, all right.’

He and some others nod. It’s admiration, pure admiration. Trev gives me his joint and goes for a piss. He ain’t getting that back.

‘Claudia?’

She looks at me.

‘Wanna come back and watch some films?’

She slips off the swing and tells her mate, can’t remember who the fuck she is, that she’s coming back with me. Her mate gives her something out of her bag.

‘What’s that?’

‘Nothing.’

Fuck it. Don’t care any way.

We get back to mine and that fat fucker who spat me out of her fanny seventeen years ago is standing in a haze of smoke over the cooker.

‘Hello, Love,’ she says to Claudia and turns to me. ‘Is this your girlfriend, Dave?’

‘Girlfriend? Don’t be so fucking stupid Mum.’

Claudia looks around the kitchen and Mum asks if we want some food.

‘What you doing?’

‘Got some sausages on.’

‘Nah,’ I say. ‘Come on, Claudia.’

‘You want some, Love?’ says mum.

Claudia shakes her head. By the looks of her, she doesn’t eat anything, skinny as a fucking rake she is. Don’t get me wrong – don’t like fat birds – no way, totally gross – but she is extra skinny. I can imagine splitting her in half. What the fuck would I tell the cops?

‘Changed my mind, Mum. I’ll have some.’

‘How many?’ she says, stripping open another packet. The grey fingers tumble onto the battered worktop.

‘Five.’

Into the front room and Ad is still there, playing the same fucking game with the same fucking mate.

‘You two fucking faggots?’

‘Fuck you, Dave.’

‘My brother’s a faggot,’ I tell Claudia. She’s looking around the front room; she nods her head. What’s she doing? Casing the fucking joint? I ask her if she’s a burglar and she shakes her head. She would do though, wouldn’t she? I tell Ad to go to bed but he tells me, “fuck you, Dave”. I think he’s a doll with a “matching mate accessory” with a pull-cord that’s busted and stuck on the one sentence.

I usher the walking mannequin into the hallway and bump into that fat fucking waste of space known as my dad. He’s eating a sausage sandwich. He nods at me and then Claudia with a pervy grin. Fucking wanker. As I let Claudia into my boudoir, I turn and see him at the doorway to the front room. He’s holding his sandwich in one hand and gyrating his hips – this must be the “birds and the bees” talk. His sandwich tries diving over the side of the plate; he stops still, grabbing it carefully with his other hand, concentrating like he was diffusing a bomb. I hope someone shoots me if I ever get like that.

‘What films do you like?’

She shrugs. I’ve heard her speak before, but this is getting spooky. I turn to my collection, thinking hard before selecting “Going Loco in Bristol”. It’s a comedy type, but there’s lots of sex and violence. Enough to get Miss Mute Claudia in the mood for some loving, me thinks. I turn to see if my selection might interest and almost drop the DVD when I see that she’s just removing her knickers to make herself completely naked.

‘You hot?’ I ask.

‘You do want to?’

What a question …

‘Yeah.’

She lies back in my bed and opens her legs ready. She’s completely bald below and has tats on the inside of her thighs and a line that circles her belly button and leads to the top of her twat. She looks a real player! I feel … nervous! She’s bound to expect … all sorts! I’m … well … I’m not sure I … but I’ll have a damn good try!

‘Turn the film on before you start,’ she says.

‘Right,’ I say - weird, but … fuck it. I slip the disc into the tele and the film begins.

I open the drawer by my bed and take out a packet of blues – I’ll definitely need at least two. As I take one out, I look down at her: she’s watching the film like she’s sitting with her mum and dad. It’s a bit off-putting, really. She’s not even looking at me to see if I’m getting undressed! I swallow both blues and off come the clothes. By the time I’m naked, the blues have kicked in and I don’t give a flying fuck what Claudia thinks as my chap is like a fucking oak tree! I could do the pole-vault with no pole with a knob like this – it’s a fucking murder weapon.

‘You ready then?’ I ask, purely as a courtesy, just to let her know I was on the way.

She flicks me a glance and nods. Green light to go then. Fuck foreplay; I don’t know where she’s been.

I get on and start. It’s obvious straight away that she’s a used model. I ask her if she’s had some babies before, but she shakes her head. She’s watching the tele over my shoulder while I’m working away and without Mister Blue, my oak would be quivering, lost in my magnificent bush. I touch her up to see if she’ll respond, but nothing. Fuck it then. I won’t bother. In the course of things, I put my arm on the pillow to get better leverage but she pushes it away as it’s in the way of the tele. I dump my load, roll off and breathe out. I’m soaking wet all over, but I feel good. Her body is glistening with sweat, but it’s not hers – she’s not even out of breath.

I get up and take the bog roll of the shelf, tear off a couple of strips and wipe my knob dry. It’s not an oak now, more a weeping willow, but he’s never let me down yet. I offer it to her but she doesn’t move.

‘Do you want to use that?’ I say.

‘No,’ she hisses. ‘I’m watching this.’

I turn off the film and she looks at me. I try to hand her the bog roll again.

‘What?’

‘Clean yourself up, eh?’

She doesn’t understand. ‘Why?’

‘I don’t wanna mess my bed up. I’ve gotta sleep in that.’

She tears off some squares, wipes herself in a very unsightly way (still laying down), scrunches the tissue into a ball and puts it on top of the drawers by my bed. Fucking unbelievable. I’ve never known a bird like it.

‘Can we watch the rest now?’

I don’t know what to say, so I turn it back on. This bird is barely alive.

Out of the drawer comes a joint. I sit on the end of the bed and smoke it. Don’t want to get in her way, reckon she’d probably kill me.

‘Have you seen it before?’

‘No.’

‘Do you want some of this?’

‘Yes.’

She fills her lungs twice and hands it back. At least she has some social graces.

I get dressed, open the door and it’s into the front room. I’ve left my door open so Claudia will be forced to get up and close it. Make the bitch move. Ad’s gone to bed at last, schoolboy fucker that he is. I think of checking to see if his mate is in his room with him, but I can’t be arsed. They’d probably be … urrgh … disgusting. Dad is watching a porn film; he pulls his hand away from his trousers when I come in. Mum’s reading the paper and they’re having tea and cake.

‘Hello, Love,’ she says. ‘Do you want something to eat?’

‘No.’

‘D’ya want some of my cake?’

‘No, wouldn’t do that to you.’

‘Where’s your girlfriend?’

‘It’s Claudia and she’s not my fucking girlfriend.’

‘Ahhh … have you split up?’

‘No. She’s watching a film in my room.’

‘I’ll go keep her company if you like,’ says Dad.

We both roll our eyes at him and I sit down, picking at mum’s cake while I watch “Screwing Las Vegas” on the other tele. I could let him “keep her company”, make his dreams come true, as I’m sure she wouldn’t mind or even notice. I decide not to tell him, as he would probably block the screen and she would rip his throat out – very messy. Maybe I should - those tats would open his fat fucking eyes! I look at mum and the cake crumbs rolling down into her ample lap. The desires of the human body make people do the most disgusting things. I bet he has to swallow a pack of blues every time he wants to get in her mouldy jack-and-danny. Filthy bastard.

When I go back to my room, the door is still open and Claudia is still there. She’s had a cup of tea and something to eat: cake, looking at the crumbs. She hasn’t moved or made any attempt to cover herself up. The tissue is still there, next to the plate. She’s put on “Cutting room floor”: a movie about a film director killing models. It’s got really good bits in it. I like the blonde bird who gets it last. I was gutted she got done. Can’t remember her real name … Cath or something.

‘I’m just popping out,’ I tell her. I expect her to come with me, but she just nods. I stand in the doorway for a bit and then leave. Fucking hell, what a leech! I’ve got over a hundred films in my room, she better not think she’s watching every fucking one!

‘Yo! Adi!’

‘Back so soon already?’

‘Complaining?’

‘No man. What you want?’

‘Special X?’

‘No can do, all gone. Have some tomorrow.’

‘No shit?’

Adi looks away. He’d sell it if he had it.

‘That was good shit.’

‘It is good shit. Coke?’

‘Coke’s for lamebrains man, you know that.’

He nods. ‘Jumpers?’

‘In fact, gimme some coke. Gottan idea. How much?’

‘Three.’

I give him the dosh. Coke goes in the sky rocket and it’s back to base. I’m gonna give Claudia some coke and see if it moves her. It is for lamebrains, don’t get me wrong, but it still gives a kick after all these years.

Back at the ranch and nothing has changed. Parents in the front room, Claudia in bed, naked for all to see.

‘Your girlfriend is making your father go blind,’ says mum.

‘What?’ I bark at the stupid fat bitch.

‘Dad keeps going to the toilet so he can have a good look at her.’

Dad smiles at me and shrugs. Fair enough. The alternative is banging a human fridge. She probably eats burgers off his shoulders while he’s doing his duty. Sad fuckers.

‘Thing is, Love,’ she says, all curious, ‘why is her you-know-what … you know … bald?’ She touches the groin area of her dirty cream dressing gown and I just manage to hold down my stomach.

‘It’s better for sex,’ says my Dad, licking his lips.

I nod at my father, indicating that he had answered correctly.

‘Riiiight,’ she says, nodding.

I close the door of my room quietly to avoid disturbing the film.

‘You wanna do it again?’ she asks.

Takes me back a little, but autopilot speaks:

‘Yeah. Got some coke for you too.’

She finally moves, sitting up, waiting for me to make the magic lines. I hand her a straw.

‘Is that all you got?’

‘Er … yeah. It’ll do for now.’

She snorts a line and hands me the straw. I shake my hand.

‘The other’s for you, I done mine already … you know, couldn’t wait and all that?’

She nods and the other line shoots up her nose.

‘You wanna do it now?’ she says.

This bird is like a fucking black hole. “Is that all you got?” What does she think I am? A fucking pop star? I had to give her the two lines, in case she thinks about telling everyone I’m a tight-arse. Fucking greedy-arse-thin fucking whore!

I strip down, drop three blues, and fuck her as hard as I can, trying to get a reaction, any reaction. I roll off and she says nothing. All she does is move the hair out of her eyes so she can see the tele better. I get up, clean myself and hand her the roll. She takes it this time, placing a ball of tissue next to the first one. I can’t believe how dirty she is. She’s one weird bird.

‘Think I wanna go to sleep now,’ I say.

She looks up at me and moves nearer to the wall so I can get in. The light is on and the tele is so … fucking … loud! There’s a sweat patch for me to lay in. Then the bitch farts, which she doesn’t acknowledge or apologise for. Who does she think she is? My fucking girlfriend? It’s quite early for me and I’d normally watch another two or three films in the company of some shit, but I need a fucking escape route.

I wake up and it’s still early – two o’clock. I feel stiff all over. It must be because that bitch has curled up in a ball and made me hang over the edge. She managed to turn the tele off. I bet she finished my entire collection. She’s snorting through her nose like a fucking pig, but if I concentrate hard enough, I can hear what sounds like bacon sizzling in the kitchen. I bet mum is making some scram for Ad and his mate. I drop my legs over the side.

‘Do you want to do it again?’

I look around and she’s looking at me. I make a face like I’m thinking about it and ask if she’ll wait while I go take a piss. She nods and closes her eyes. When I return, I drop a blue and prod her. She turns over and obliges. On the job, finish quickly, on with the CKs and it’s into the kitchen, leaving the sleeping beauty with the bog roll.

‘Want some food?’ asks fat mama.

‘Nah. Cuppa.’

‘All right, little wanker?’ I say to Ad’s mate, sitting down.

‘Fuck off, Dave.’

‘That’s right, John, you tell him,’ says mum, wiping a plate.

‘Bacon sarnie, Mum?’ I ask.

‘Course, Love. What about your girlfriend?’

‘She’s not my fucking girlfriend! And anyway, fuck her.’

She shakes her head and puts the plate by the cooker. There’s a constant cycling of plates in this house: cook food, put on plate, eat food, wash plate, cook food, put food on plate. It never stops. Thank fuck for the social.

‘You shouldn’t talk about her like that. And here she is. Morning, Love.’

Claudia, dressed in one of Mum’s shitty old dressing gowns, sits at the table and forces the blushing scrotum bags back to their Gamestation. She looks miserable. Dunno why, I’ve filled her right up, so she should be one happy fucker.

‘You okay, Love?’

‘Yeah,’ she says.

‘Want something to eat?’

‘No.’

We have a cup of tea made for us and I start on the bacon sarnie.

‘I gotta sign on,’ I say, remembering I have to do it by half three because the pakis at the call-centre knock off early because they’re in pakiland. Mum hands me the phone from the charger by the fridge.

‘So have I,’ says Claudia, standing up. ‘My phone’s in my bag.’

‘Do you want me to get it for you?’ says Mum.

She shakes her head and drags her feet across the lino and out the room. She badly needs a shower, that girl – she stinks of sex.

I finish my sarnie and Claudia is back. We dial our dole offices at the same time.

‘Ah, young love! Look at you both signing on together! Takes me back to when me and your dad …’ but she’s lost in some shite ancient world that no fucker gives two tosses about.

I’m put on hold by the computer, so I listen to Claudia:

‘No. Yes. No. Yes. Okay.’ She puts the phone on the table.

‘Everything okay, Love?’ says Mum.

She nods. The mute returneth!

I’m connected:

‘Did you find work yesterday?’ says the paki voice.

‘No.’

‘Did you try?’

‘Yes.’

‘Any responses or proof of this?’

‘No.’

‘Do you wish to continue to claim unemployment benefit?’

‘Yes.’

‘Hold the line please.’

Claudia is taking her morning-after pill. Thank fuck for that, forgot all about it.

‘We have an interview for you today.’

‘A what?’

‘An interview for a position in a local factory.’

‘Fuck!’ I say, holding my hand over the mouthpiece. ‘An interview!’

Claudia looks surprised. I watch her registering the enormity of what I just said. She’s going pale. Her heart must’ve started beating! Fuck – she’s quite spotty when I look at her close up – didn’t notice that. Bless her though, she runs off to get Mum from the front room.

‘Are you there?’ says the dole tosser.

Mum comes in, gives me the knowing look and heads for the emergency cupboard.

‘Yeah,’ I say.

She pulls down a box, takes out a pill and puts it on the table in front of me.

‘It’s at Drake’s factory.’

‘Drakes!’ I say, covering the mouthpiece.

‘Oh shit!’ says mum.

‘Okay,’ I say. ‘When?’

‘Four o’clock,’ says the voice, ‘and you must be punctual.’

‘Of course.’

‘If you are late, the monitoring officer will report this. The monitoring officer will be present at the interview and will record your performance. Your benefit may be affected if any part of the report is not favourable.’

‘It won’t be. I’m really happy to get this chance. Listen,’ I say, covering the mouthpiece, whispering the interview time to mum, ‘I’d like to thank you for picking me, I know a lot of people are out of work and I’m so excited to have been chosen.’

‘Take it now,’ mum whispers in my ear, ‘there’s still just enough time.’

I put it in my mouth, grab Claudia’s water and swallow the pill.

‘Good luck,’ says the voice. ‘If you get the position, you will not have to speak to us again. If you are unsuccessful, please ring tomorrow within the allocated timeframe. Good day.’

The line goes dead.

‘How long will it take?’

‘You’ll be okay, don’t worry,’ says Mum. Okay for you and your permanent disability allowance, you fat fuck!

Claudia scrapes the chair and gets to her feet.

‘I’d better go,’ she says. ‘Get outta the way.’

I’m a marked man, no one wants to be near someone with an interview. It’s stupid, but people say it’s contagious, that the monitors watch and report people in groups. My old mate Joey? He had an interview. I got the fuck away from him. Good fucking job too. Next day he went to Drakes. A day after that? So did his fucking brother! Haven’t seen them since. Poor fuckers. Drakes take everybody.

‘Okay, Love,’ says Mum. ‘Perhaps see you again?’

Claudia makes for the door.

‘Take a shower if you want?’ says Mother. She can probably smell my love juice.

She turns with no expression, shakes her head and goes into my room. Shame she’s off, I quite liked Claudia. Fancy another go on it, truth be told. Maybe later. I like the fact she doesn’t talk much; some birds drive me up the wall, talking and all that.

Up and out, standing at the intercom by the factory gates at the appointed hour, shaking like a mudder fucker, sweating like I was bleeding water from every hole. The pill has turned my skin a nice yellow colour already, I look every part a sashi addict. Sashi is shit even I wouldn’t touch. Take that, even once, and you won’t live long enough to get to church on Sunday to confess. Heavy shit.

Shown into the office, I’m sitting opposite the guy, watching him read my résumé. I say résumé, it’s got my fucking name and address on it, that’s about it. It doesn’t take him long. On my left, hidden in the shadows, is the monitoring officer. They both watch me carefully; it’s fucking spooky. I must appear willing or they’ll drop my dole, or even take it away. Can’t have that, I have a lifestyle to maintain.

I try answering the “why do you want this job?” (why do I want to spend my days lugging boxes around? No fucking idea) and “where do you see yourself in five years time?” (I see myself lugging boxes around, singing while I work, Sir). Stupid fucking questions. I’m sure they ask them to see what answers they get back – a laugh for the bloke and an excuse for the MO. I thank him for his time (always a good idea, so I hear) and stumble over my chair – not deliberately – I’m no actor – but it could be a God-send. I avoid looking at the MO altogether. Apparently, if you make eye contact, like any predatory animal, it feels threatened and attacks. Attack means no money: bad idea.

I get home and before I can dump breakfast, the bastard from Drakes is on the dog and bone! Fucking keen or very unfucking keen! He tells me they saw more qualified applicants and assure me they would not hesitate to contact me again if anything more suitable comes up. Fucking hope not! I'd be fucked if they thought I could move boxes! I click off the phone and Mum gets some of her special skank from the cupboard to celebrate. It’s all the way from Jamaica. It’s proper gear. She skins up for us all and we sit and smoke: me, Mum and Dad. Ad’s there, with his mate, but they’re only eleven and you can’t do gear legally until you’re fourteen. Dad offers him a bit. Mum scalds him, but he’s allowed one suck on it. They don’t wanna leave his wanker mate out, so he has a bit too, as long as he promises not to tell his parents. He’s only got one, so it’s twice as easy to lie. When mum goes to the shitter, Dad gives them a bit more, and so do I cos they’re starting to get mashed.

‘Bet your girlfriend will be pleased you got off?’ says dopey Dad.

‘She’s not my fucking girlfriend, you fat fuck!’

The scrotums laugh. Dad glares at them and then laughs and so do I. Mum comes in and asks what everyone’s laughing at.

‘Fuck off, you fat fuck,’ says Ad’s wanker mate to her. Everyone pisses themselves, except her cos she doesn’t get the joke … she wouldn’t, would she?

‘Does anyone want some food?’ she asks.

Everyone pisses themselves at that too. I don’t know why, cos it’s not funny. When it’s calm, we all have bacon, egg and chips. I announce I’m going out to find Claudia, so off I go.

Down at he park, the gang are all there.

I say “hello” to all and ask after Trev. Gotta be cool. Gotta ask about mates first, cos it’s more important.

‘He’s not here,’ says Jules. ‘Gone home.’

‘Yeah? Wanker. Why so early?’

‘He went home with Claudia. They’re gonna watch films and fuck.’

She watches for a reaction, being the fucking shit-stirring bird that she is – just like they all are, moving the swing back and forth slowly in her shiny white trainers.

‘Yeah? Cool. What else is there to do, eh?’

She pushes off and starts swinging properly, smiling at me. She wants it.

‘Say, Jules?’

‘What?’

‘Wanna come back to my house and watch some films?’

I see her thick fucking brain thinking about it, and the others are all watching, waiting to dis me if she gives the blank. They won’t show me they’re watching, cos I’ll get too much glory when she says yes. It’s like a fucking soap opera for these sad fuckers. I know she’ll say yes, she’s just fucking with my head, now. She nudges her mate and jumps off the swing.

‘Okay,’ she says.

‘We can watch “Screwing Las Vegas”. Have you seen it?’

‘Yeah,’ she says, putting her arm through mine. ‘I’ve seen that; it’s wicked.’

‘Yeah,’ I say, thinking that Jules is that much more chatty than boring Claudia, and that Trev has no idea what he’s taken home. I hope Jules is not too chatty though – I only like talking when I like talking.

‘I like the bit where the guy, can’t remember his name, kills all those guys on the door? Seen that film loads of times. I love it,’ she says.

‘Yeah, it’s real fucking horror show.’