Vulgar boys (Book)

Chapter One

“Where the f**k are they?” says Ryan looking out of the living room window.
“It’s only 7:15" says Karen drinking her coffee.
“We need to avoid the rush hour traffic, we’ve got a four hour drive as it is, and we don’t want to get jammed up.”
“But leaving at half 7 should avoid the rush hour.”
“Yeah, avoid the rush hour here but when we get an hour up the road we’ll hit the rush hour there!”
“It’ll be strange having the place to myself for 3 days.”
“You still having a girlie weekend?”
“I think so, Julie said she was up for doing something but I’ve got a feeling she will blow it out”
“Yeah?”
“She’s on detox and has to watch what she eats, apparently.”
“F**king detox! She only shits herself because she can’t handle her job, the stupid bitch. Bragging, moaning, bragging, moaning. If she blows it out you’ll probably have a better time.”
“You’re probably right.”
“I don’t want to bloody go but I can’t get out of it without a valid death certificate” he says shaking his head “Apparently Julie’s brother is going!”
“Crocket?”
“What?”
“They call Julie’s brother ‘Crocket’. He must be 19 or 20 now. That makes me feel old. I remember him running around as a little kid.”
“What’s he like?”
“He’s all right.”
“That tells me f**k all!
“I haven’t really talked to him since he’s been an adult. I used to see him all the time when Julie lived with her parents but since she’s lived with Phil I haven’t really seen him.”
“What’s the place you’re staying at like?”
“I have no idea, all I know is that it’s a guest house. Apparently it’s not even in central Blackpool. It’s ten minutes out. Pilchard was supposed to have booked the accommodation and transportation but in the end Julie had to do it.”
“Why did Julie have to book everything for the stag do? Surely that’s Pilchard’s responsibility as best man?”
“You’d think so, but Pilchard’s useless.”
“Has Pilchard got a bird?”
“No, you’ve seen him, he looks like a fish, Vellacott’s got more chance with the ladies and that’s zero!”
“Do you think Marcus will ever get a bird?”
“I really wish he would, for the sake of his sanity but I really can’t see him with a girlfriend. He’s been living on his own too long, pretending that he doesn’t want a woman. His main problem is that he’s never been in love. He’s never been in a relationship with a woman that he respects. Women to him are just to shag. Talk to a woman? Prefer to be with your lady instead of your mates? That’s an alien concept to that idiot. And any bloke that blows his mates out for his bird is under the thumb according to him. He is always accusing me of putting ‘muff before mates’.”
“Right, and you wonder why I don’t like him! ‘Muff before mates’ what a wanker, No woman with any intelligence would tolerate him!”
“He’s never been out with a woman that’s had any intelligence! The only two women he’s been out with have both been completely stupid. That Suzanne was as thick as shit and that Jayne bird was worse!”
“The girl that looked like the singer from Nickelback?”
“Yeah, that’s her” he opens the front door and takes a look up and down the street “Where the f**k are they?”
“I suppose I better start getting ready in a minute, I don’t want to go to work” says Karen stretching.
“I’ll have a piss first, keep an eye out the window” he rushes upstairs.
Karen notices a paint chart lying on the floor; she picks it up and considers painting the living room while Ryan is away. She flicks through the hundreds of shades of greens, blues and magnolias. Suddenly the peace is disturbed by a car horn, it sounds a second time then the driver decides to get creative and play a little tune. Ryan comes charging back into the room.
“They’re here!” he says frantically putting his jacket on.
“No shit! There’s your bag, have you got your phone? Charger? Wallet?”
Ryan is looking around in all directions checking his pockets. The horn is still sounding antisocially outside. Ryan suddenly stops checking his pockets and opens the door.
“KNOCK IT OFF, YOU’LL WAKE UP THE WHOLE STREET!” he hisses and goes back inside. The horn stops.
“Look at that old bloke staring at us!” says Pilchard pointing three doors down.
“Right, I’ve got everything. See you later” He hugs her “I don’t want to go!”
“Have a great time and ring me when you get there.”
“Will do, I love you!”
“I love you too!”
Ryan heads out the door. They are in a light blue Ford mini-bus. It has clearly seen better days. The paintwork is covered in scrapes and chips with a prominent dent on the passenger door. ‘Taylor Self drive coaches’ is written on the side in faded yellow paint. Ryan wonders how much of this damage was caused this morning. He can see Pilchard with his permanently bulging fish like eyes in the drivers seat with Phil ‘Kiss my arse’ and some young bloke he assumes to be Crocket riding shotgun. Two blokes he doesn’t recognise are in the seats behind them. Fat Dave, Jason Lew are in the seats at the back. He can’t see Vellacott or Matt Tyler.
Ryan slides open the side door and steps inside. The interior is in a similar state to the outside with stained and torn seats. It is obvious that this Van has seen plenty of Vomit in its lifetime. Despite the ‘No-smoking sign’ there is a strong smell of cigarette smoke mixed in with the stench of body odour, puke and must.
“Hello boys” shouts Ryan immediately smelling booze.
All offer him a nodded or grunted greeting. Ryan waits for Phil to do the introductions. He doesn’t, Ryan prods him on the back.
“You going to introduce us or am I going to stand here like an arsehole all day?”
“Oh, sorry, this is my cousin Ryan, Ryan this is Julie’s brother Dean AKA Crocket” Ryan shakes the youths hand. He is a short and chubby with a trendy haircut and bum-fluff. His eyes are too close together. He eyes Ryan suspiciously making him feel uneasy.
“Nice to meet you” says Ryan.
“Yeah” replies Crocket with attitude.
“This is Mark and Glen from work” says Phil without indicating which is which. Both men are in their early to mid thirties and look like football hooligans.
“Glen” says the fatter of the two with a shaved head but disarmingly friendly smile. He reaches an over developed arm to shake Ryan’s hand. Ryan notices the large ‘Jack’ tattoo on his forearm. Glen sees him looking at it “It’s the name of my little lad” he says proudly.
His companion a rat-faced trendy looking bloke with a fake tan “Mark, alright chap?” he asks in a northern accent.
“Nice to meet you” says Ryan eyeing the beer bottles they are holding.
“You know everyone else" says Phil turning round “Let’s get Marcus”. Pilchard pulls away from the kerb violently causing Ryan to fall into his seat by the door.
“Dave, Jason, you boys alright? Long time no see" says Ryan looking for a seat belt. There isn’t one.
“Good to see you Ryan” says Fat Dave flashing teeth which appear too big for his mouth “Love these early starts me! I’m tired.”
“Not as tired as you’re mum was when I got off her last night!” screams Phil from the front of the bus.
They all erupt, especially Crocket.
“Hello Jase, Still working in the Golden Lamb restaurant?”
“No Ryan, that was 17 years ago" sighs Jason an oriental bloke with thick black glasses. That is such an old joke, but he was expecting it.
Fat Dave and Jason are old friends from school. They used to drink in the pub where Ryan met Karen but since then they only see each other at weddings. Both have aged badly. Jason used to have long flowing heavy metal hair but now is bald. Unfortunately his head is shaped like a shell. Fat Dave is now 4 stone heavier than the last time Ryan saw him and he was fat then. His ears look like they are sinking into his head. A nice enough bloke, unless you are downwind of him that is.
They are weaving their way through the labyrinth of streets to Marcus’s house.
“Look at this!” says Fat Dave agitatedly pointing at the newspaper. A topless model smiles back at them: Leanne, 23 from Aldershot, Long dark hair, and unfeasibly curvaceous body wearing a sailor’s cap.
“F**king whore!” growls Fat Dave slamming his fist into the picture causing it to screw up and rip.
Glen looks at Mark raising his eyebrows. The others have witnessed this strange occurrence on a number of occasions before. Psychologists would probably say that Fat Dave feels aggressive when confronted by arousing imagery. It is as if he resents the way the girls in the pictures are making him feel. Probably kicks in his television watching porn.
“My mate made a twat of himself last night” says Mark chuckling “he fancied this bird and decided to send her a text, he meant to send her message saying ‘I would ask you out but I’m shy’ but instead he sent one saying ‘I would ask you out but I’m 9’, the predictive text f**ked him up! It didn’t help that he was drunk when he sent it!"
They all laugh.
“Want a beer mate?” says Glen pointing to an open case of trendy brand lager. An unopened case is next to it. The third case is in with the bags.
“Bit early ain’t it?”
“Queer or something? Have a f**king beer" shouts Phil sounding half cut already.
“O.K” says Ryan accepting a bottle.
“Here you go" says Crocket throwing him a bottle opener. He doesn’t catch it. Instead it falls between the seats and clatters across the floor. Crocket laughs snidely. Ryan bends down to retrieve it just as Pilchard slams on the brakes. Ryan is propelled out of his seat and into the aisle. Crocket kills himself laughing as if Ryan was his worst enemy. ‘I don’t like that little twat’ thinks Ryan opening the bottle while feeling carsick.
“Is it right or left here?” calls Pilchard.
“Left” says Ryan pointing right “I mean right.”
Pilchard guns the mini-bus through the quiet suburban streets like a man with a wife in labour. He makes Vellacott’s suicidal driving seem pedestrian in comparison. This does not bode well.
“Are we picking up Matt Tyler after we get Marcus?” asks Ryan.
“He’s blown it out, his kid ain’t well or some shit like that" Snorts Phil angrily“ He sent me a text, wasn’t even man enough to ring me!”
“Good, the bloke’s an arsehole" says Ryan feeling relieved that he doesn’t have to put up with that piece of shit.
Jason leans forward “What have you got against Matt Tyler?”
“I was mates at college with this bloke called Craig Buckley bloke who was going out with a girl called Patty. He heard through the grapevine that she had a back street abortion but it was all bullshit. He went nuts and when he accused her of having an abortion it went off big style and she finished with him. But it was all total bullshit. She wasn’t even pregnant. Trouble was that Craig thought the rumour had come from me when it was that weasel Matt Tyler. He told Craig Buckley that I told people that they did the abortion with a coat hanger for f**ks sake!”
“That’s disgusting.”
“Tell me about it, I denied it but he never really believed me and things were never the same between us. Craig ended up moving to Canada and that was that.”
“Why would Matt Tyler spread a vicious rumour like that?”
“Because he fancied the arse off Patty and he wanted to split them up without taking the blame so he told Craig it was me.”
“Did he end up with Patty?”
“Did he f**k! She didn’t want to know that wanker. I heard a great story how he thought he was going to get off with her because he was going to a sleep over party with her. Loads of people were staying in this one room and he put his sleeping bag next to hers. In the middle of the night he was just about to make his move when she started getting off with the bloke on the other side of her. Tyler had to pretend to be asleep while this bloke f**ked her! Sweet revenge! Serves the bastard right!” he looks at Phil ““I don’t know why you invited him in the first place!”
“I don’t know why I invited a lot of people mate. Nice little message you left on my answer machine, Ryan?”
“You liked it did you?”
“My Dad thought it was a real message and rang me at work really panicking!”
“You’re joking?” says Ryan laughing.
“I wish I was, he’s going ‘how could you be so stupid, you’ve ruined your entire life’!"
Glen laughs “He did sound proper worried when I answered your phone!”
“What message did you leave?” says Pilchard.
“He put on this camp voice and said that I should get tested as the last person he had sex with was me. Dad thought I was gay, a bit like Marcus really. I couldn’t believe Dad fell for it!” says Phil shaking his head.
“Different class!” chuckles Glen.
“Do you reckon Vellacott will be ready?” says Pilchard.
“No chance!” replies Ryan “he’s probably still tossing himself off?”
“Yes, probably over your mum!” shouts Phil “I don’t know why I’m even picking Marcus up. He dropped me right in the shit last night.”
“How come?”
“He sent me a text message saying that he couldn’t wait to get among the pussy and Julie saw it. She went mental; I ended up sleeping on the f**king sofa last night. Luckily I managed to patch things up with her this morning."
“That’s him all over" says Ryan remembering how Vellacott had done the same thing to him once.
They pull up outside Marcus’s house. It is in total darkness. Pilchard sounds the horn. Nothing. Phil reaches over and gives it a long neighbour irritating blast.
“I’ll knock him up" says Ryan sliding the door open. Phil honks the horn again. Ryan waves for quiet.
He walks up Vellacott’s overgrown front garden and presses the doorbell. He doesn’t expect the door to open very quickly; he takes a long swig from the beer bottle and looks up at Marcus’s bedroom window. Suddenly a light comes on and the curtains open to reveal Vellacott’s bewildered face. He’s just woken up. He staggers away from the window tripping over things and heads downstairs.
“I f**king knew you wouldn’t be ready!” Gloats Ryan as Marcus opens the door wearing a stained T-shirt and unsavoury boxers: he looks completely dishevelled.
“Oh…F**k….Just….Woke….up….Give us a minute” he slurs.
“Have you packed?”
“No, I was going to do it this morning.”
“Well don’t just stand there, have a quick wash and throw some stuff into a bag!”
“Easy, easy, are you on the piss already?”
“Never mind about that, get moving!”
Ryan goes back to the mini-bus.
“He aint ready, just woken up. I knew this was going to happen.”
“He’s never got his shit together" says Pilchard.
“Pot-kettle!” snaps Phil.
“I’ll go and give him a hand” says Ryan.
“I bet you will!” yells Phil.
Crocket pisses himself, there’s that nasty little laugh again, notes Ryan as he closes Vellacott’s door behind him.
Ryan takes in his surroundings. Marcus lives like a pig. There are white stains on the carpet around his toilet where he has spilled bleach when cleaning the toilet whilst drunk. There is never any toilet paper or a hand towel in his toilet. Everything in his kitchen is sticky, the sink black with neglect. You walk into his kitchen and lose your appetite; you walk into his toilet and suddenly don’t need to go. The house is almost exactly as it was when he moved in 8 years ago. A battered mountain bike is propped against the wall in the hallway by the front door. This bike is a bone of contention between Ryan and Marcus. Five years ago, before he moved in with Karen, Ryan asked Marcus to store his bike in his garage. What Marcus took that to mean was ‘strip my bike for parts’.
Ryan rushes upstairs “RIGHT, LET’S GET OUT OF HERE AS SOON AS POSSIBLE BEFORE ‘KISS MY ARSE’ STARTS IN WITH THAT F**KING HORN AGAIN!”
“Sorry mate, I overslept" says Marcus while cleaning his teeth.
“Julie’s brother seems like a right arsehole!”
“What about Matt Tyler, have you said anything to him?”
“He’s blown it out! His kid is ill, he sent Phil a text.”
“F**KING HELL, I WISH WE HAD KNOWN EARLIER, THEN I WOULDN’T HAVE HAD TO PUT UP WITH YOUR F**KING MOANING!”
“Just get ready, there’s a good boy!”
“There’s a rucksack in the airing cupboard, do us a favour and chuck some T-shirts in it” says Marcus running a sink full of hot water and taking his T-shirt off.
Ryan finds the rucksack and empties the contents onto Marcus’s bed.
The carpet is littered with dozens of CD’s and DVD’s that are out of their cases, most of which belong to Ryan. Marcus really knows how to treat other peoples property like shit.
“I can’t believe he’s blown it out. My pants are in that chest of draws by the window" says Marcus now completely naked, covering his cock and balls with his hand.
Ryan turns his head away in disgust and looks out of the window. Mark is standing outside the van smoking. He throws random items into the rucksack feeling tense. This weekend has already got off to a bad start.
Finally ready Marcus closes his front door and he and Ryan approach the Van.
“You don’t half f**k about Marcus" says Phil “You’ve put us right behind schedule.”
Marcus ignores him and slides open the Van door.
“Sorry boys, I overslept” He notices Crocket’s trendy multi-coloured hair “F**k me mate, I hope you didn’t pay for that haircut!”
Everyone laughs except Crocket who mutters something under his breath.
“This is Marcus" says Phil.
Vellacott surveys the rest of the party.
“Hello Marcus” says Fat Dave.
“We know what happened to all the pies lads!” shouts Marcus.
Fat Dave bristles upset that Marcus had to draw attention to his weight. The gloves are off.
“What happened to you Marcus?” says Fat Dave “Are you gay? Look at those limp wrists!”
“F**k off you pot bellied pig!”
“Mate, you are so camp that I can’t take you seriously" says Fat Dave pissing himself laughing “It’s like one of the Bee Gees having a go at you!”
Ryan loves this. He hasn’t broached the subject of Vellacott’s newfound femininity but clearly other people are keen to especially when provoked. Ryan hopes that Marcus’s cowardice around women will also be examined at length.
“I didn’t realise the Bee Gees were gay?” shrugs Glen.
“Hey boys” goads Marcus slapping Fat Dave on the back “This bloke here had a stomach bug once and shit himself wearing his girlfriends white dressing gown and didn’t have the sense to wash it much to her displeasure!”
“Whatever gaylord!” says Fat Dave scratching himself.
“Where’s the T-shirts?” says Marcus looking around at the others “Aint we all supposed to be wearing ‘Phil stag do 2006 Vulgar boys on tour’ T-shirts? Where are they Pilchard? In the boot? Are we going to put them on when we get there?” he contorts his face in mock horror “Oh shit, I hope I haven’t ruined the surprise Phil mate!”
He turns to Jason Lew, “You still work in the golden Lamb?”
“Yeah, I love it, wouldn’t work anywhere else” says Jason sarcastically.
“You look like a f**king missile mate!” laughs Marcus “If you can’t grow some hair over that pointy little head of yours at least wear a f**king hat!”
“Take no notice of him Jase" says Fat Dave “I think Marcus is menstruating!”
“Out of his mouth!” shouts Phil.
“Marcus, What did you used to shout when Jason walked into the pub?” laughs Pilchard.
“THE FOOD’S HERE!” yells Marcus tauntingly.
Phil rolls his eyes “There’s nothing like a good racial stereotype is there?” he says shaking his head.
“Nowadays it would be, THE HOOKEY DVD’S ARE HERE!” yells Pilchard looking pleased with himself.
Marcus looks at the two meatheads sitting in front of them.
“Alright chap, I’m Mark, this is Glen, we work with Phil.”
“You come from Blackpool?” asks Marcus.
“No I bloody don’t Chap, I’m originally from Salford!”
“Bloody hell mate, you really like your Jack Daniels!” jokes Marcus noticing Glen’s ‘Jack’ tattoo.
“That’s the name of my little boy" replies Glen humourlessly.
“Oh, how old is he?” says Marcus changing tact.
“He’s five, I don’t see him as much as I’d like to, I’m not with his mother no more.”
Everyone makes a mental note to avoid the subject of Glen’s kid. Marcus and Ryan throw their bags onto the pile at the back of the Van and occupy the two seats by the sliding door.
“Right then, we’re off.” Says Pilchard starting the engine “Blackpool here we come!”
“I take it you actually know the way to Blackpool, mate?” says Phil “Have we got a map?”
“Don’t worry Phil, I’ve got it all sorted.”
“Yes but have we got a map?”
“No.”
“What if we get lost? Correct me if I’m wrong but I assume this piece of shit isn’t equipped with Satellite navigation?”
“We won’t get lost!”
“But if we did, we’re f**ked? Is that what you’re telling me?”
“We won’t get lost!”
“If we get lost we’ll ask Noel Gallagher here, he’ll know the way” shouts Marcus.
“Very funny chap” replies Mark.
“Hey, I’ve got a joke” says Fat Dave with a look of idiotic on his bloated face.
“Keep it to yourself, you twat” mutters Marcus.
Dave can barely contain his enthusiasm for how good this joke is “What do Blackpool donkeys have for lunch?”
“Go on put us out of our misery” says Ryan wearily.
“HALF AN HOUR!” screams Dave laughing hysterically.
There is stunned silence and glances are exchanged. Suddenly all eyes are on Pilchard who is emitting a slow rasping noise.
“You all right brother?” says Phil wondering if Pilchard has something trapped in his throat.
Pilchard coughs, “Half an hour!” he says weakly rubbing his eyes “F**king classic one Dave!”
“I went into the video shop the other day” deadpans Ryan “I said to the bloke behind the counter ‘I’d want a copy of Batman forever’; he said ‘sorry you’ll have to bring it back tomorrow!”
Pilchard rasps again, his eyes shut tight with mirth.
“Oi!” shouts Phil getting tense “Open your f**king eyes, no more jokes guys O.K?”
Fat Dave turns to Jason and whispers “The doctor says to the patient ‘do you want the bad news or the worse news?’ The patient says ‘what’s the bad news?’, ‘you’ve only got twenty four hours to live’, ‘What’s the worse news?’, ‘I should have told you yesterday!”
Phil prods him “I SAID NO JOKES DAVE!”
“Want a beer?” says glen handing Marcus a bottle.
“I suppose it’s no use saying no" says Marcus.
Marcus takes a swig from the bottle and pulls a face.
“You could have put them in the fridge mate, they’re a bit warm.”
“That’s Marcus all over" shouts Phil “You give him something for nothing and he complains, ungrateful prick!”
Everyone laughs.
“I had to sleep on the sofa last night because of you Marcus" Says Phil
“Why?” says Marcus defensively.
“That f**king text you sent me about getting in there with the pussy, Julie read it and thought I was going on the pull!”
“She shouldn’t be reading your f**king text messages mate, it serves her right. What’s she doing checking your phone? His Karen’s the bloody same. She had a go at him because of something I texted him that she read. I didn’t text her and I didn’t text Julie. If they go bloody snooping through other people’s property they deserve all they get. My conscious is clear.”
The aggressive tone in Vellacott’s voice annoys Crocket. If his sister wants to check Phil’s mobile she can. He glares at Marcus over his shoulder.
They pass Rydalmere train station “Look there’s Knock’em” says Vellacott pointing at the row of taxis.
Ryan laughs “Who?”
“That big fat taxi driver, the one so fat he can only drive the 12 seater mini-bus. I saw him in the Offy the other night, he was asking the geezer behind the counter about the merits of various Vodkas and when he turned round Knock’em was filling his pockets with chocolate bars. He was knocking them, hence his nickname."
“This beer doesn’t taste too bad for this time of the morning” says Ryan changing the subject. “Although I think we are going to have to pace ourselves if we are going clubbing tonight.”
“You just can’t take the pace!” snaps Crocket nastily “I can drink all day.”
“Ah, I remember those days” Says Ryan trying to ignore Crocket’s rudeness “Then you get a bit older and it’s harder to keep on knocking it back.”
Crocket sniggers “No, it’s just that you’re a lightweight!”
He sneers at them and looks at Phil for approval. Phil looks back at him blankly having not paid any attention to this exchange.
Ryan and Marcus exchange glances. Marcus can’t stand anyone having a pop at Ryan but him.
“Hey Phil” he calls “has this Chav lost his nought yet?”
“What?” spits Crocket suddenly losing his cockiness.
Marcus closes in on his victim with an expression on his face like a crocodile sliding off the riverbank “Are you a cherry boy?”
“NO, I’VE F**KED LOADS OF BIRDS!” in an exasperated high pitched voice
“I’ve f**ked loads of birds!” mimics Marcus “I don’t believe you, it don’t sound like your balls have dropped yet, go on sing us something Aled Jones!”
“F**k off!”
Crocket is forced to laugh even though he can’t stand being ridiculed.
“He sounded like that bloke at school" says Phil “What was his name? Gilla. He had something wrong with him, hole in the heart or something like that. It made him talk in a high-pitched voice. Marcus used to take the piss out of him. It was cruel but we were kids, we didn’t know any better. The kid used to sound that Beastie boys song ‘Sabotage’ the scream before it goes mental ‘Whoooooooooo!”
“I used to go ‘Whooooo Gilla!”
“What did he say to you once?” says Ryan recalling the event through tears of laughter.
“He said ‘F**k off Marcus you f**king twat’ ” Says Marcus doing the impersonation.
“Whatever happened to Gilla?” asks Phil laughing.
“Oh” says Fat Dave awkwardly “He died.”
The van goes quiet. The sense of guilt comes over like a wave.
“I don’t believe it?” says Phil shaken by the news “Poor Gilla’s dead?”
“Nah, I’m bullshitting, He’s a driver for Argos!” blurts Fat Dave cracking up laughing.
Gilla’s childhood tormentors feel much relief.
“YOU twat!!” shouts Marcus “YOU HAD US ALL GOING THEN, YOU FAT F**KING ARSEHOLE!”
“Different class!” chortles Glen.
“Gilla was a right animal” says Ryan laughing “he threw a cup of piss out of a train window once. It went all over the commuters waiting on the platform!”
“YUK!” shrieks Jason.
Glen frowns “Did they give him a good shoeing?”
Ryan shakes his head “The train he was on didn’t stop at that station, it just slowed down and those were the days when you could open the train windows, so he got away with it!”
“He called it ‘a cup of lash’!” adds Marcus in a high pitch voice.
Pilchard clears his throat “Ryan does have a point, when we get to Blackpool we are going straight out on the drink; I don’t want to have to wait around for you lot to have a little sleep first. So don’t get completely arseholed before we get there, eh?”
“You sound like a woman” says Phil although in agreement.
“My dad would approve of drinking at this hour. He has a beer with his breakfast” laughs Fat Dave looking pained.
“Your old man still a piss head?” asks Marcus rhetorically.
“What’s that on your hand?” asks Phil pulling at Crocket’s arm.
Crocket holds his hand up revealing a perfect red circle in the palm of his hand and laughs “I was out last week and we were drinking flaming Zambucas. You set them on fire for a second then snuff out the flame with your hand then drink it. Well, this bird I was with asked me to put hers out but what I didn’t realise was that she had let hers burn for a couple of minutes, so when I tried to snuff it out my hand got stuck to the glass, it f**king killed, mate!”
“I noticed it earlier but didn’t want to say anything” says Glen “I thought he was a Satanist or something!”
They all crack up laughing.
“Who’s been watching that celebrity driving program?” says Pilchard eyes bulging “The one where they follow famous people as they learn to drive? Did you watch it the other day where that bird from that girl band reversed into that bus!”
Ryan laughs sarcastically “I can’t watch any of that shit. Z-list celebrities learning to drive, Z-list celebrities attempting sports, boring property programs, smug cooking programs, shows where you vote for people who can’t sing, programs about idiots sitting around bitching, depressing programs about ill people, it’s the only thing on and they can shove them all right up their fucking arse! But when you get to work the next day, they’ve all wasted their time watching this shite!”
“What’s wrong with programs like that?” says Pilchard looking put out.
“They’re fake for a start, contrived for the entertainments sake. Do you really think that these people who can’t sing a note would actually enter a talent competition? It’s all set up but people buy into it. Karen can sit there and watch that shit all night but not me!”
“You really can be a miserable so and so sometimes” rasps Phil.
“YOU watch all shit do you? On your super sized T.V?”
“Some of it’s all right, we watch that celebrity driving program, it’s pretty funny. Hey, I hope this weekend is going to be as good as the Great Yarmouth job!”
“What happened on that trip?” asks Glen.
Ryan’s face contorts into a sneer “We played bingo, ROCK AND ROLL BABY!”
“We had a good laugh” says Phil looking slightly hurt “We had a right giggle!”
“Pilchard nearly got us all beaten up when he tried to start a fight with a group of bikers, what a great laugh it was to push over that bike mate!” says Ryan as sarcastically as possible “You boys always talk about the Yarmouth trip as if it was the most fun you could ever have ever but in reality we sat around drinking all day, wasted a shitload of money and did virtually nothing. And like I say, the lowlight was when we settled down for a game of f**king bingo. I’m really hoping that this trip is going to be different.”
Pilchard and Phil look at each other and shake their heads.
“YOU MISERABLE F**KER!” shouts Pilchard making everyone jump.
“I had a health check the other day” says Glen changing the subject “the nurse asked me how much I drank a week, I said that it depended on how much money I had! I said I drank about 20 pints a week on average. She freaked ‘that’s too much’ she said and referred me for a blood and liver test. Thing was that I knocked 10 pints off the real figure! I knew I was drinking a bit too much when my son’s first word was ‘Abi’. We all couldn’t understand why he kept saying it; he didn’t come into contact with anyone called ‘Abi’. Then we noticed that he said it when he wanted a drink, ‘Abi, abi, abi’ he’d say pointing at his bottle. Then I realised that he was copying me because I came in every night and said ‘I need a beer’ and he thought all drinks are called beer or ‘Abi’ as he calls it!”
“I’ve been drinking too much as well" says Pilchard “A 24 case only lasts me a week” he pauses suddenly looking concerned “Hang on, that’s only 3 cans a night, get me a rah rah skirt!”
“If I had a medical examination, they would probably say I was dead what with all the drugs I take!” says Mark.
“What drugs do you take?” asks Ryan.
“You know the usual. Few pills, couple of lines every now and then.”
Phil looks at Mark aggressively then turns away.
“Speaking of medical examinations, Marcus had one once and ended up getting fingered by the doctor" says Ryan laughing.
Vellacott winces at the memory.
“He had massive knuckles and Marcus thought his finger was all the way in but it was only up to the knuckle!”
“The twat said to me “lean into it please” and the rest of his finger went in. Makes your eyes water I can tell you” says Marcus “Thanks for telling everyone by the way you prick!”
“Why did the doctor put his finger up your arse?” says Pilchard as he swerves the van dangerously around a corner.
“He had something in his eye!” says Phil sarcastically “Why do you think? They check the prostate, hey Marcus are you sure it was his finger?”
“You had your arse examined once didn’t you Phil?” says Pilchard
“No!” says Phil exasperated.
“Remember that time round Nan’s house? Her hallway was so narrow that you could put your back on one wall and walk up the other one. We used to see how high we could go up the wall? Remember?”
“Yeah, I do. Didn’t you….”
“One time he was right up the top and I crept up behind him and tickled his balls and he fell. The thing was that she had these large bolts on her letterbox that stuck out a long way. As he fell he caught his arse on one of these bolts and ripped it! I remember that you had to go to hospital!”
Everyone grimaces at the thought of it.
“How distinctly unpleasant!” says Fat Dave in a posh voice.
“Different class!” chortles Glen.
“What I don’t like about that story is the fact that you tickled his balls Pilchard" says Ryan “Did that sort of thing happen a lot? Bit of ball tickling? Mutual masturbation? Shut your eyes you wouldn’t notice the difference? That type of extension to the concept of brotherly love?”
“Kiss my arse!” shouts Phil.
There is the sound of bottles banging together as Mark distributes the beer. Pilchard holds his hand out for one.
“F**k off, you’re driving!” snaps Phil.
“I can have ONE!” Protests Pilchard
“You ain’t, what if the law see you knocking back a bottle of beer? We’d get pulled over.”
“Yeah but I’d be under the limit, a drink is a drink. It‘s only when you have a lot that it‘s a problem. Before then it‘s just a drink that happens to have alcohol in it.”
“You ain’t having one, there’s a can of lemonade if you’re thirsty but no beer till we get there.”
“Anyone been to Blackpool before?” asks Fat Dave
“I went there once on a school trip" says Crocket
“Earlier this year was it?” snaps Marcus much to everyone’s amusement. Crocket shoots him a look that could pop a balloon.
“I’ve been there a few times" says Mark “It’s a great place to go clubbing and there are shit loads of pubs.”
“I heard that northern women are really easy to pull" says Pilchard “All you do is stand behind them and put your hand up their skirt.”
“Is that right chap? Then you get a stiletto in your eye socket!” laughs Mark.
“Are there plenty of lap dancing clubs?” asks Glen shifting in his seat.
“What do you think?” says Mark smiling “I know of at least three descent ones with absolutely top quality birds working there.”
“We’ll definitely have to go to a lap dancing club!” says Crocket shifting in his seat.
“If we do, you’re going to have to keep your f**king mouth shut about it” says Phil firmly “If your sister finds out, I’m a dead man. You understand?”
“What happens in Blackpool stays in Blackpool, Right?” says Pilchard.
“Right” replies Crocket.
Phil turns round to look at the rest of the party.
“RIGHT?” he demands.
“RIGHT” they all chime as one.
“Good” says Phil determinedly.

Meanwhile Karen Morgan is preparing to leave the house she shares with Ryan Norris. She is opening and shutting draws in a bad mood because she can’t find her mobile phone charger, she is in a bad mood because judging by the tightness of her skirt she’s put on more weight and she’s in a bad mood because she is about to play the daily Avoid the neighbour game. The 300-yard walk to her job with a company that import and sell table-football games is littered with time and energy draining obstacles. Their middle terrace house is located in Castle Street, a quiet road afflicted with the most annoying neighbours she has ever known. They are sandwiched between a demanding deaf and dumb pensioner nick named ‘Mum Mum’ and a junk hoarding three-wheel car obsessed Santa Claus look-alike.
However, the most consistently irritating neighbour of all lives three doors down. In his early eighties with his unbuttoned brightly coloured shirts worn over a dirty vest Eddie Reed resembles a Sicilian Mafioso boss. He stands on his doorstep smoking endless roll ups keeping an eye on the street. Nothing should happen down his street without him knowing about it. Karen loathes him. She has a heart, she knows that he’s lonely but why doesn’t he join an old peoples club or something? The highlight of his day is getting the paper. Ryan has seen him banging on the door of the paper shop if they dare to open a minute after seven. When she leaves the house he’s there. When she returns, he’s there. Ryan calls him “omni-present”. Even when she is inside the house she can still hear his deep rumbling voice as he bothers some other poor sod. He can’t even get her name right. Karen closes the front door behind her quietly but doesn’t even get as far as the gate before the old dickhead starts talking to her.
“All right….Claire?” he says scratching his head through his thick black hair ““There was a load of noise this morning, you must have heard it?”
“No, didn’t hear a thing, what sort of noise?”
“Car horn it was, no, a van of blokes it was“
Karen shakes her head and turns to go.
“I won another tenner on the lottery last night!”
Typical, she thought, that annoying old git is always boasting about winning money on the lottery. She has won jackshit. His sort always win. You always get some scummer wining the jackpot and the first thing they do is buy their house off of the council in the depressed area they live in. If she won the jackpot she wouldn’t be living in f**king Rydalmere. Eddie scratches his arse.
“Looks like rain today doesn’t it?”
She resists the urge to tell him to f**k off and smiles at him.
“Yes, it does look a bit threatening” she replies looking at the sky.
“I hope you’ve got your brolly with you!” he booms chuckling like he’s said something really amusing.
She turns her head and walks away because when he laughs it dislodges his top set of false teeth. It makes her feel sick. And he doesn’t wear underpants; the equally nosey old bag they call the Silver fox that lives next door to him told Karen that she never sees underpants hanging on his washing line. But his most disgusting feature is the long moist candle of snot that descends unnoticed from his bulbous nose. Once aware of its presence, probably when it extinguishes his cigarette, it is either wiped with his sleeve or retracted with a denture-dislodging sniff. To think that pensioners get a heating allowance from the government and there’s him with his front door open all day. She knows the trouble with this street; too many council tenants. Sitting on their fat arses all day getting free handouts while she’s working her guts out. Who’s the mug? Their house is the only one in the terrace that isn’t council. This is noticeable straight away as it is the only house in the terrace that doesn’t have brand new windows. This sticks in her craw. A lot. She makes a right turn and doesn’t f**king believe it. The Silver fox and Mum Mum are standing on the corner of Castle Street.
“Karen, Karen, Did you hear all that noise this morning?”
“What noise?”
“A beeping horn, whoever it was had no respect for the people who have to live down this street. Woke up the whole street it did. We’ll apart from Cynthia but only because she’s deaf. It was a blue mini-bus" says the Silver fox looking at Karen accusingly “Eddie Reed saw your Ryan getting into it, Do you anything about this?”
“Sorry, I’m late for work” says Karen irritably and continues on her way
Silver Fox looks at Mum Mum in amazement “Well?” she says mouth hanging open.

Chapter two


“Look what it says on these bottles!” says Marcus scrutinizing the label on his beer “’Don’t drink if pregnant or trying to conceive’! Don’t they get that most accidental pregnancies are directly caused by drink! They should put something like ‘use of this product may RESULT in pregnancy’!”
“Where do you work, if you don’t mind me asking?” says Glen politely.
“COUNCIL WORKERS!” shouts Vellacott.
“We work for the council" adds Ryan “In an office not on the bins or at the dump, we don’t like getting our hands dirty.”
“What about you… Crocket?” asks Glen.
“I work in a tile shop”
“Right” says Glen “What about you boys?” he says turning to Fat Dave and Jason.
“I’m a stockbroker" says Jason “Bonds, trusts and securities.”
“I work in a bank, not very interesting really” says Fat Dave shrugging his shoulders.
“What about you driver? Can I call you ‘Pilchard’?”
“Don’t ask or you’ll get a f**king horror story" says Marcus bracing himself
“I work at Ledzers, the sugar factory. We have a few accidents every now and then.”
“Every now and then?” spits Phil “Every bloody week you’re telling me about some poor bastard getting crushed or decapitated. What was it last time?”
“One of the fitters went to investigate why one of the belts had stopped. He found a cardboard box had got caught in it but he didn’t isolate it. He yanked the box out and the belt started moving catching his overalls in it, lost his right arm!”
“Bloody hell!” says Mark.
“Worse one we had happened a couple of years ago. A new lad was changing a cylinder but he had the pressure all wrong. As he took the first rivet out the lid came flying at him like a bullet. Caved in his head.”
“Did he die?” asks Ryan.
“Not at first but he fell two hundred feet off the gantry. They found the lid from the Cylinder three hundred yards away!”
“You won’t be laughing when it happens to you mate!” says Marcus.
Pilchard turns round and gives him the finger.
“And you boys all met at school?” says Glen not wanting to hear anymore Ledzer sugar factory tales.
“That’s right" says Ryan.
“Which one?”
“Toby Woodley.”
“Woodley wankers eh? I went to Rydalmere secondary in town.” says Glen remembering the old rivalry.
“Rydalmere ain’t ‘capable’" sings Phil “Remember that insult? The worst accusation that anyone could make at school was that you were not ‘capable’."
“Capable of what?” asks Mark.
“Capable of producing semen” says Ryan “It was around the age of sexual maturity, about thirteen years old and blokes were managing their first wanks. You would hate it when someone said that you weren’t capable but only because you wasn’t yet!”
“You still ain’t!” Yells Phil predictably.
Pilchard guns the Van down the slip road to the motorway.
“Look at this" laughs Glen handing Mark his mobile. The sound of groaning and orgasmic sounds are heard generating much interest.
“Porno?” asks Phil.
“I prefer to call it ‘Action romance’ but yes” says Glen handing the phone to him.
A naked blonde is giving head to a black man whose penis resembles a drainpipe.
“Bloody hell” says Phil.
“Let me see" says Pilchard.
“Keep your eyes on the f**king road will you!” snaps Phil holding the phone out of his sight.
He and Crocket crowd around the phone. The girl is deep-throating the drainpipe dick, as she takes it out of her mouth her throat makes a sickening choking noise. Her mascara is running so much from the watering eyes that she looks like Alice Cooper. She gasps for air clearly in discomfort. “I love how that feels" She lies.
“She loves not being able to breathe apparently!” says Phil.
“Isn’t that Arizona Meadow?” says Ryan replaying the clip.
Marcus takes a look “No, looks like her but it aint.”
“It f**king is her, you should recognise her, she’s your favourite porn star!”
“Arizona Meadow is my favourite porn star, that’s why I know that isn’t her mate!”
“That porno I’ve got ’American cum swallowers 4’ Arizona Meadow is in that aint she? She‘s the one in the double penetration scene.”
“No, you’re thinking of one of mine, ‘Hot and horny 2’ she takes three cocks in that film, one in each hole.”
“That’s it, I always get those two films mixed up”
“Porn on mobile phones, who would have thought it?” says Fat Dave “Kids today don’t know they’re born when it comes to porn. When we was kids the only time you would see porn was if you found a stash of mags in the woods, and they were already well thumbed.”
“Well cummmed!” corrects Phil.
“Remember some of them had a black sticker over the action that you could peel off?” says Pilchard reminiscing.
“I had to smuggle some porn back from Sweden once” says Fat Dave “I had two porno DVD’s down the back of my trousers as we walked through customs. I was shitting myself, then Matt Tyler shouted out that I had porn in my pants, I nearly shit myself but I didn’t get stopped thank f**k!”
“Told you Tyler was an arsehole!” says Ryan smugly.
“Was the porn you smuggled any good?” asks Mark.
“Yeah it was but I made the mistake of lending it and I never got it back”
“Rule number one” says Ryan “NEVER lend porn, unless you’ve got the keys to the bloke’s house and you can repossess it if necessary.”
“Now you can get it on the Internet for free. No hassle at all” says Fat Dave wincing as Pilchard narrowly misses rear-ending a coach.
“I think that’s how broadband was invented so you can download porn faster” says Phil “Porn is responsible for a lot of inventions, take the ‘A-B’ button on the DVD remote control. You press it to repeat five seconds of action. Why would you want to do that? I’ll tell you: Cum shots that’s why. When else would you press that button?”
“You got broadband yet, Ryan?” asks Pilchard.
“No.”
“Dial-up takes ages, why don’t you get Broadband?” asks Jason.
“I don’t need it, by the time I’ve locked the door, drawn the blinds and got the hand-cream out, it’s there! My computer is in my dining room, as you sit on the computer chair, the dining room window is to your left. Before we had the blinds the people in the houses overlooking our garden thought I was a midget with Parkinson’s!”
“Different class!” chortles Glen.
“Actually I don’t get it” says Pilchard changing lane without indicating.
“He kneels down in front of the computer and has a wank” says Phil “Get it?”
“Remember that really, really shit porno? The one where the dialogue sounds like it was translated from English to German, into Dutch then back into English?” says Marcus.
“How could I forget?” says Ryan launching into exaggerated German accent “I was alone with my friend Hans and two local girls. Hans decided that he was going to f**k her in the mouth..”
“..And then f**ked her in the arse, then up the twat” adds Marcus also doing the voice.
“What was that porno called?” asks Pilchard.
“Castle extreme” Says Ryan “You seen it?”
“No, Can’t say I have.”
“I went out with this really prudish bird once” says Ryan “She reckoned that she had never seen a porno, so I put one on for her and you know what she said? When the cock was going in and out she goes ‘do they have to show that?’ YES THAT’S THE WHOLE POINT OF PORN! One thing I don’t like is watching porn on a massive T.V, it’s like a butcher’s window!”
Phil coughs “How’s my Porn collection Ryan, you looking after it?”
“Yeah it’s all in good wanking order.”
“Why has Ryan got your crud collection?” says Pilchard changing lanes and cutting up a white Van in the process.
“When I moved in with Julie she found my porno collection and threw a proper wobbler, so I told her I’d binned it but I gave it to Ryan for safe keeping.”
“BLOODY HELL!” shouts Marcus “WHERE DOES IT END? Any Woman that won’t let her bloke watch porn is making a rod for her own back because supply cannot possibly meet demand. So you’ve done what she asked you, you’ve got rid of your porn collection, but is she giving it to so much that you don’t need to wank? Or are you like Ryan and hardly ever get a f**k?”
Crocket, Ryan and Phil bristle at this accusation. Luckily Fat Dave comes to the rescue.
“That’s an interesting point Marcus but before we call other people’s sex lives into question, shouldn’t we first examine yours? Just how long has it been since you last dipped your wick?”
Marcus squirms, trying to find some way of defending his terrible record. Ryan loves this. All eyes are on Marcus.
“The last bird I saw you with looked like the singer from Knickleback and that was about four years ago” Adds Fat Dave piling on the much deserved agony.
“O.K, O.K” he says throwing his arms in the air “Five years.”
Everyone erupts into mocking cackling laughter. Marcus looks out of the window feeling pretty stupid.
“It’s a fact of life that women go off sex” says Ryan “When you first get together you f**k constantly but after a few years it peters off.”
“I don’t have that problem" says Glen “My bird Maxine wants it all the time. We do it in the morning before work then I get texts about it at work then we do it some more at night” He looks at Ryan with a smug taunting expression on his blubbery face.
“My mate Tony has lived with his bird for years and they went to Ibiza and he f**ked her twenty nine times” adds Pilchard unhelpfully.
“How long did they go for?” says Ryan shaking his head “Eighteen months?”

Karen opens the door to the icebox they call an office.
“Morning” she calls.
The first person she sees is Sam Michaels, fucking hell she’s decided to grace us with her presence. She is sitting with Linda and Rick, both of which have sympathetic expressions on their faces. She hears Linda say “you poor dear, maybe you should see the specialist again”. The plumes of steam from the coffee cups indicate how subzero it is in here. Karen doesn’t even take her coat off. Sam however, is dressed for the summer in a white shirt and skin-tight pedal pusher trousers; she has her drugs to keep her warm.
“Hi Kaz” Sam calls excitedly eyes darting unnaturally
Karen hates to be called Kaz.
“Feeling better?” she asks completely uninterested in the reply.
“Yeah, a bit better” Says Sam in a voice full of addled excitement “It’s my back, I couldn’t even get out of bed yesterday.”
Bad back? Bollocks thinks Karen, you can get away with murder when you’re the bosses niece.
“I couldn’t move a muscle, it was horrible” says Sam putting on the agony
Linda Michaels pokes her plump head out of her office “Like I say Sam, if you are in pain, you go home, we can cope.”
Yeah you fuck off and take more drugs you manipulative little bitch, thinks Karen, you leave me to all the invoices to me. She looks at Barb and Mary who are sat engrossed in mindless conversation in the far end of the office. They both wave at Karen and continue to yap as only self-involved petty middle-aged women can.
“I’ll see how I go" says Sam staring into space.
Linda turns to go back in her office, then pauses.
“Karen can you get some more tea bags on your way out lunchtime, mate? Take it out of the petty cash.”
Karen nods and smiles suddenly feeling much warmer. She violently switches her ancient yellowing computer on. It will take about half an hour before you can do anything with the fucking thing. She wonders exactly why she is wasting her time in this dump with these arseholes.

“Anyone got a pen?” says Fat Dave opening his battered newspaper “I want to have a go at the Sudoku.”
Jason rummages in his bag “I’ve got one” he says holding an expensive looking gold pen in the air.
A cacophony of drum and bass fills the van.
“Shit, that’s my mobile" says Mark rooting around in his pocket “S’cuse me boys. Y’ello? Oh hi babe, you O.K?………..What’s the matter?……Calm down, I can’t understand you………….Hang on, WHAT? Coming to Blackpool? Did you say you’re coming to Blackpool? Why? Hey, don’t get me wrong, I’d love to see you but it’s a Boys weekend, babe. A stag do, I wouldn’t have much time to see you babe . How would you be getting to Blackpool then?… PUT IT THIS WAY, IF YOU COME TO BLACKPOOL, YOU WON’T FIND ME AND IF YOU DID THE ONLY WORDS YOU’D HEAR FROM ME WOULD BE ‘WE’RE FINISHED’. PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER O.K, I’LL TALK TO YOU LATER” he hangs up looking flustered.
“Do you think she’ll get on a train to Blackpool?” asks Ryan.
“No, she’s just out of her head on pills. She’ll ring me back later when she’s calmed down a bit. Trouble is that I think she’s in love with me but to me she’s just a bit of fun. She’s getting too clingy for my liking, I think I’ll have to ankle her soon.”
“Ankle her?” asks Marcus.
“Yeah, Get rid of her, tell her where to go, dump her, She aint worth the hassle mate.”
“And this is the bird you’re taking to my wedding? I don’t want her causing a scene" says Phil imagining what Julie will say.
“I’m not taking her; I’m taking Lisa my regular bird.”
“Who’s this other bird then?”
“My bit on the side; the pill queen.”
“So you think she’s obsessed with you and can’t bear to be apart from you for two days?” says Glen sarcastically.
“I hope not, I’m hoping that it’s just pills she wants but I’m probably wrong.”
“Wait a minute, if it’s pills she wants and she wants to meet up with you, that means you must have some on you, Is that right?” says Phil eyes blazing.
“No mate, I’m clean” Says Mark unconvincingly.
“SWEAR ON YOUR MOTHERS LIFE!” Shouts Phil.
Mark shrugs his shoulders as if he was talking about sherbet lemons “O.k. I admit it; I have got a small stash with me.”
“What if we get pulled over?”
“We won’t get pulled over" says Pilchard confidently.
“NO? Is that right? You’ve been breaking the speed limit since we left and we’re pretty conspicuous in this f**ked up van, Jesus, I’m not happy about this.”
“I’m a good driver, I’ve only got three points on my licence and that was a stitch up, I was only doing 25 miles an hour!?”
Phil rolls his eyes “You love telling that hard luck story, ‘I was only doing 25 miles an hour’ but it doesn’t matter how slow you’re going when you jump the lights, mate! It’s like that story you love telling about how I rammed you up the arse when you towed me that time. He goes on about how I dented the back of his new motor but the facts were that he insisted on coming out when I could have got the RAC and when he did turn up he had a f**king two inch tow rope! Now I don’t have to tell you what his driving is like, he kept slamming on the breaks and this f**king tow rope was the length of a neck tie! So inevitably I kept ramming into him!”
“You proper dented the back of my motor bruv!” says Pilchard exasperated.
“Have you been listening to what I just said? Why did I keep hitting you? Do you have any comprehension of how it could of happened? Or was it just down to my bad driving?”
Pilchard chuckles “You said it!”
“What pills have you got?” asks Crocket.
“Clauserdrine” replies Mark.
“How much do you want for one?”
“No charge, Chap, be my guest”
“OI, YOU AINT F**KING TAKING ANY DRUGS, IF ANYTHING HAPPENS, IT WILL BE MY FAULT!” screams Phil.
“I’ll do what I want!” snaps Crocket “I’ve had pills before, many times.”
“Have you? Does your sister know?”
“Don’t care if she does” says Crocket defiantly “Drugs aint that much different from booze anyway.”
“Bollocks!” says Phil “You know where you are with drink, if you drink too much, you puke, but drugs? You don’t know what’s in those pills. You could take one and die, simple as. What the f**k is this Clauserdrine stuff anyway, Elephant tranquiliser?”
“Something like that” says Mark softly.
“Pot is pretty safe” says Pilchard nearly ramming a breaking Lexus “It chills people out. They don‘t want to fight like they do when they‘re drunk.”
“Yeah but long term, you don’t know what it’s going to do to you” argues Phil “At the end of the day there’s a reason why drugs are illegal and drink aint.”
“Here you go” says Fat Dave giving the pen back to Jason and stuffing the paper down the side of his seat “I’ve fucked it up already!”
“Me and Marcus have never touched drugs but it does seem that we’re in the minority” says Ryan “I think I’m going it a bit if I smoke a cigarette when I’m drunk!”
“That’s because you’re a pussy” says Crocket tauntingly.
Here we go again, thinks Ryan. Crocket gets a dig in at every opportunity.
“Hey Mark, If your bit on side does come to Blackpool, I don’t know where she’ll stay?” says Pilchard “We’re already five to a room as it is!”
Phil glares at him, he hopes against hope that no one heard him say it.
“Five to a room?” says Ryan “No one told me we were five to a room! What’s going on?”
“Well, I had entrusted the hotel booking to my brother and best man and to cut a long story short, he didn’t do it. Julie rang round loads of hotels but there is a big ballroom dancing competition on at the moment and every room is full. So she could only find us two rooms in a guest house a little out of town.”
“How far is a ‘little’ out of town?” says Glen suspiciously.
“Short cab ride, not far at all.”
“So each room has got five single beds in it?” asks Fat Dave.
“Not exactly, each room has a sofa bed, bunk beds and a double bed”
“That means two of us will have to share a double bed!” asks Marcus nervously.
“That should be a treat for you and Ryan!” says Pilchard.
“AND FOR PHIL AND PILCHARD, THEY CAN TICKLE EACH OTHER’s BALLS ALL NIGHT!” shouts Ryan.
“Look on the bright side” says Pilchard “It’s going to save us a packet. It would have cost a fortune to have a room each!”
“What if someone gets lucky?” says Glen.
“You’ll have to do it in the van” says Phil.
“Hey, I’ve just thought of something" says Fat Dave “If his bit on the side does turn up, she can sleep where Matt Tyler would have.”
“Mate, we don’t want any birds on this trip!” says Phil wearily “Tell you what, if she does turn up, we’ll give her and Mark the double bed and we can all lay awake listening to them f**k, like the sound out that?” he adds sarcastically.
“I do!” says Mark
“However, the fact that Matt Tyler hasn’t turned up does mean that only two of us have to sleep in a double bed, we can thank him for that” Says Phil.
Mark taps Glen on the shoulder with his beer bottle “I saw that bird you went out with from that coffee shop yesterday.”
“F**king hell, she was a nightmare! She ran hot and cold the whole time. One minute it was all ‘I love you, let’s spend the rest of our lives together’, the next minute it was ‘f**k off’; I’m well out of that. Bloody bunny boiler!”
“There you go again” says Phil turning to face them “Using the term ‘bunny boiler out of context. A bunny boiler doesn’t blow hot and cold, they practically stalk you like Mark’s getting with the pill queen. If this bird sometimes didn’t want to know, then she wasn’t a true bunny boiler mate!”
“What are you, the f**king insult police?”
“Kiss my arse!”
Ryan pulls out his phone, a look of disbelief registering on his face “My f**king phone has been ringing my pocket again! How much credit has been spunked this time?”
“Why don’t you lock it?” says Fat Dave in a bored condescending manner.
“I DO f**king lock it! But the lock comes off so f**king easily, I did twenty quid in the other day when the f**king thing decided to ring my home number and leave a twenty minute message consisting of nothing but the rustling of my trouser pocket!”
“Get yourself a better phone mate” sniffs Glen stating the obvious.
Phil turns to the others with a look of guilt “Do you ever check your phone when you’re saying something dodgy about someone in case you‘ve accidentally ringing them at the same time?”
This question is answered by a burst of agreement by all.
“I do it all the f**king time!” says Mark “I start slagging someone off or saying something that could get me in trouble and the next thing I’m checking me phone before I say anything else!”
“WHO FARTED?” shouts Marcus screwing his face up “IT SMELLS DISCUSTING!”
“Wasn’t me chap” says Mark “I’d have stuck a flag in it.”
“I can’t smell anything" says Fat Dave sniffing the air “Oh wait, now I can, F**KING HELL!”
Ryan busts up laughing, satisfied with his handiwork.
“Hey Crocket, Your sister told me about that nasty surprise you got when you arrived home early from work once!”
Crocket grimaces “It was the most f**ked up thing I’d ever seen. It makes me shudder just thinking about it.”
“What happened?” asks Mark.
Crocket shakes his head “I don’t want to say.”
“Come on” says Glen prodding Crocket “Let’s hear it.”
“I came home from work early because I had a bad cold and my parents were having it off on the sofa!”
Everyone roars with laughter.
“It’s sweet that they’re still active” says Phil sarcastically.
Crocket looks genuinely distraught at the memory “At their age? It makes me f**king sick. I tell you one thing; I’ll never be able to listen to M People again, that’s for sure.”

“I hear that you’ve got some peace and quiet over the weekend” says Rick Michaels perching his skinny arse on Karen’s desk. He had just attempted to make some inane small talk with Sam but she just looked right through him.
“Yes, Ryan is going away on a stag do, to Blackpool” replies Karen without looking up from the computer screen.
“How many nights will he be away?”
“Tonight, Saturday and comes back Sunday night.”
“Did you say Blackpool?” interrupts Sam in a suspiciously high voice.
“Yes, Blackpool why?” says Karen wondering why Sam should suddenly take an interest in the conversation.
“No reason” says Sam drifting off again.
Whatever you pilled-up bitch thinks Karen.
“My son was arrested on a stag do" says Barb “He broke a shop window with a shopping trolley.”
“A lot of funny things can happen, Karen, when all the boys get together unsupervised” adds Mary unhelpfully “I mean, my Paula’s husband ended up in hospital because he fell off a wall.”
“RICK! Tell them what happened to you on your stag do” shouts Linda mischievously from her office.
Rick blushes rolling his eyes.
“Oh it’s boring, not worth mentioning” he says unconvincingly.
“They painted his genitals with red paint” shouts Linda.
“That’s a lie" says Rick “It was green paint!”
Everyone laughs except Sam.
“Do you reckon Ryan will get up to any of that sort of thing?” says Rick still sitting uninvited on Karen’s desk.
“Probably but as long as he doesn’t get into any trouble, I don’t mind.”
Karen starts to worry. That fucking Vellacott will probably land Ryan into some sort of trouble. The idiot doesn’t think.
The door opens letting a blast of icy air into the room. Roger the elderly warehouse manager and twenty something Barry from the warehouse come in scrounging for biscuits.
“Hey, Rog, ever get up to anything on a Stag do?” says Rick.
“Plenty son” says Roger chuckling “That’s right your Ryan is going away on a stag do isn’t he Karen? You’ll be all lonely at home with no one to love. Would you like me to pop round and keep you company, if you know what I mean? Or if you fancy a younger model we can always send Martin here?”
“Or Barry, he hasn’t lost his cherry” sneers Martin smirking like a kiddie-fiddler.
“Neither have you son!” snorts Roger “Tell you what we’ll send them both round to yours Karen; you can take your pick!”
“Did you two want something?” says Linda walking out of her office with a aggro expression on her face.
“Biscuits” says Martin.
“Here you go” Says Linda thrusting the biscuit barrel into Martin’s chest “Now haven’t you got work to be getting on with?”
They turn to leave.
“Don’t worry” says Linda turning to Karen “You can take Thor and Drax home with you. Any of those three from the warehouse turn up you can feed them to the dogs!”

Chapter three

“One time I was working in South London, helping a mate out” Says Glen making sure he’s got everyone’s attention “We went into this snooker hall for a beer. We were about to put our money in the table when this cocky little geezer comes over and tells us they operate a ‘winner stays on policy’. My mate tells him that their policy doesn’t apply to him and if he knew what was good for him, he wouldn’t say anymore about it. Well, this f**king geezer only goes and pushes my mate, which a stupid thing to do to a bloke with a short fuse and a snooker cue in his hand. Next thing I know the geezer is lying on the snooker table holding his head. My mate has hit him with the cue, not too hard, just enough to stun him. Well, suddenly all these other blokes appear, about five of them, and they start running over. Luckily there are a couple of bouncers there to intervene, one bouncer grabs this gobby twat with ginger hair in an arm-lock and the other bouncer blocks their path. Well, the twat with the ginger hair is threatening all sorts, He’s going to kill us and all that bullshit. As we head for the door I give this ginger prick in the arm-lock one in the nose. Blood everywhere there was. He weren’t expecting that. We make it outside and the bouncers block the doors so the others can’t get after us. There we are doing a Linford down the street to the motor and we look behind us and the door to the snooker hall is nearly being knocked off it’s hinges as the mob are trying to get out. Suddenly the bouncers can’t hold them back any longer and they all spill into the street. We’ve made it to the car but it’s a real old banger and it won’t f**king start. All these geezers are bearing down on us and my mate is turning the key like mad. Anyway just in the knick of time, it starts and speed off. A real close one, I tell you!”
Everyone seems to have enjoyed this story, especially Crocket and Pilchard who howl will excited laughter. Phil looks at the monotonous motorway landscape rush by and begins to wonder if inviting Glen was such a good idea. Glen has many entertaining stories like this but there is a massive difference between hearing tales like these and being involved in them. Who knows what trouble Glen could land them in? Pilchard and Crocket don’t need much encouragement to kick off at the best of times, what sort of bad influence will Glen have on them? His concerns are immediately confirmed.
“We had a bit of bother the other day” Says Crocket proudly “We were outside at club at the end of the night and this lairy bird comes up and starts on my mate Lee. She’s right off her face, accusing him of all sorts and threatening to have him done over. Lee is protesting his innocence but she’s having none of it. Next thing we know, my mate Gav has smacked her one in the face. It was pretty funny to see her suddenly realise she wasn’t going to get away with giving us lot grief!”
“That’s bang out of order, you shouldn’t brag about doing shit like that” Says Glen looking at the others disapprovingly.
Crocket stops sniggering and sulks for a while. However, the scorn generated by Crocket’s inappropriate story has not had the desired effect on everyone. Pilchard swerves violently around a green Honda “One day at the sugar factory..” he says laughing to himself seemingly oblivious of how bad his driving is.
“Oh for f**ks sake! Not another bloody Ledzer story!” snaps Marcus rolling his eyes,
“At least we know he’s still awake” chortles Fat Dave.
“F**k off you lot, One day at the sugar factory I see this bloke Harris wearing my high-vis jacket, I knew it was my jacket because what was written on the back”
“twat?” Interrupts Phil.
“Bollocks! Anyway it had ’The Duke’ written on the back of the jacket, so I knew it was mine.”
Everyone erupts into a fit of howling laughter.
“What?” says Pilchard looking hurt “That’s what everyone calls me!”
Phil looks at him exasperated “Why exactly?”
“You know, because of the John Wayne connection.”
People are laughing so hard that they are choking. Pilchard is not happy “F**k off I’m not going to tell you now.”
“Good” manages Marcus giving Ryan a stinging high five “We don’t want to hear another f**king accident story you bug eyes twat! No one calls you ’The Duke’ you are called and will ALWAYS be called PILCHARD!”
A sickening slamming on the brakes settles everyone down. Marcus howls in pain as his knee connects with the seat in front. Pilchard angrily swerves around a silver Volvo estate.
“Motherf**ker!” he yells giving the bewildered driver the finger.
“Alright, tell your story, we’re all sorry for taking the piss out of you” placates Phil “We just didn‘t know that they called you that at work, now carry on with your story about that bloke who put your high visibility jacket on, what was his name?”
Pilchard ignores him at first then like an arsey kid he mumbles “Harris”.
He looks in the rear view mirror and sees that all eyes are silently on him again.
“Harris had my jacket on and he was up the roof of the beater house. I shouted up to give it back but he wouldn’t so I climbed up onto the roof of the beater house and said ‘If you don’t give me my jacket back Harris, I’ll throw you off the roof’. He starts mouthing off so I grabs him by the collar and drag him over to the edge of the roof. He soon gave me my jacket back, I can tell you!”
Phil turns to his brother with a look of contempt on his face “Hang on a second, If you had thrown him off the roof he would have been killed right?”
“Yeah, the beater house is third tallest building at the factory.”
Phil can‘t believe his ears “So what you’re saying is that you were prepared to kill a man just because he was wearing your f**king jacket?”
Pilchard looks sheepish but then regains his cocky persona “Yeah, I would of said that it was an accident.”
“But even if you had got away with it, YOU would have always known that you killed someone over nothing, I can’t believe that you were prepared to do that, you need f**king help, I’m serious, you need, what do they call it? Anger management, that‘s what you need!”
Pilchard starts rummaging under his seat “I need a f**king sandwich, that’s for sure”.
He produces a sandwich in a plastic packet and devotes all of his attention to the task of opening it.
“I wouldn’t eat that after touching that manky steering wheel” Says Jason cringing at the thought.
“Eh?”
“There’s more germs on a steering wheel than on a toilet seat.”
“Still got the hygiene phobia?” says Ryan “He used to wash his hands a hundred times a day at school!”
“After each wank” Sneers Marcus.
“It’s not a phobia, it’s a fact. We pick up a huge amount of germs from communal items like door handles, banisters and steering wheels” adds Jason eager to make his point “Unless you wash your hands before eating you transfer those germs straight into your mouth. This van is a real old clapped out piece of shit. You think of all those filthy hands that have been all over that steering wheel.”
Pilchard turns to face him and takes a massive taunting bite out the sandwich.
Jason shudders “Well, don’t blame me when you’re on the toilet all day tomorrow.”
“Hey I’ve got a book about obsessive compulsive disorder” says Mark raising an eyebrow “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve read it!”
Pilchard is still looking over his shoulder taunting Jason. Suddenly all his passengers start screaming. Pilchard turns round to see that the traffic has come to a halt in front of them. He slams on the breaks, the van lurching violently from side to side. Phil thinks that this is it. The back of the van starts to slide out and for a second it looks like it’s going to tip over. Bottles and bags fly in all directions. After a terrifying few seconds they come to halt a foot away from a Vectra.
They look at each other in shocked silence. Glen is the first to speak.
“Now, it should be obvious to you now Pilchard that you really should keep your f**king eyes on the road can you make sure you do that eh?”
“You could of killed us you idiot!” spits Phil “I’m getting bloody married next week. We could have all been dead!”
“Look at the f**king long black tyre marks the road!” says Fat Dave looking out of the back window chuckling nervously.
Pilchard is shaking with adrenalin, he looks the others in disbelief “I’ve dropped me f**king sandwich!"
“Serves you right chap” says Mark “I feel like I‘ve been on the f**king hearts and diamonds at the fair!”
There is a few minutes of silence as everyone comes to terms with their near death experience. The traffic slowly starts moving again. Crocket is fiddling with the radio. It’s f**ked. All he can get is the sound of white noise and snippets of distorted music.
“Could you pull the aerial up mate?” he asks Pilchard.
Pilchard winds the window down and tries to find it. His fingers find sharp jagged metal where the aerial used to be.
“F**k!” he yells “Forget it, it’s gone.”
“There’s a cassette player. Anyone got any tapes?” asks Crocket turning the radio off.
“I’ve got some CD’s with me” shouts Jason
“Well they aint much good mate” snaps Phil “We aint got a CD player!”
“You can use those CD’s as a mirror, to look at your pointed little head!” says Marcus.
“Hey, there’s a tape in the glove box!” says Phil as if he had found a bar of gold “It doesn’t say what’s on it.”
“Put it on then!” shouts Marcus exasperated.
Phil slams it in the player and turns up the volume. The sound of eastern European folk music comes at them through the bass heavy sound system.
Fat Dave starts doing an exaggerated dance. Everyone copies him. They piss themselves laughing.
“Hey we should have brought the Bastard Squad tape with us!” says Ryan
“Yeah! We should have!” moans Phil genuinely upset at this oversight
“We don’t need it, turn that shit off, we can have Bastard squad karaoke" Says Ryan rising to his feet, he begins to sing in a tuneless high pitched voice” WE….ARE….THE…BASTARD SQUAD!”
Marcus, Phil and Pilchard sing along lustily.
“WE….ARE….THE…BASTARD SQUAD,
WE’LL KICK YOU IN THE CODS,
WE ARE THE BASTARD SQUAD,
WE’RE HERE TO STAY,
WE ARE THE BASTARD SQUAD,
AAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRR!!”
“What the f**k is the Bastard squad?” asks Crocket.
“The best band in THE F**KING WORLD!” screams Phil.
“That’s not strictly true" laughs Pilchard “It was Phil, Ryan and Marcus’s band at college, they were shit!”
“Kiss my arse!”
Ryan suddenly remembers what he wanted to say earlier “Did you read in the Rydalmere Gazette about the pizzas that were delivered that had shit on them?”
“Yeah that was f**ked up!” says Phil Grimacing.
Mark looks at them “What happened?”
“Some people ordered some pizzas and when they opened the boxes they discovered that the pizzas were smeared with crap.”
“Human crap?” asks Mark.
“They weren’t sure. Apparently what had happened was that the pizza delivery boy had subcontracted the deliveries out to a group of chavs that he didn’t even know. He just saw a group of chavs hanging around and paid them to deliver these pizzas while he went round his bird’s house. They got a few extra toppings thrown in for free that night!”
Jason coughs “That makes me feel physically sick!”
Fat Dave drains the rest of his bottle “Sounds like that chippy by the bus station where the food hygiene agency tested the cooking oil and found four different sperm samples!”
“That was an urban myth!” says Ryan “If it did happen at all it must have been three owners ago, I remember that rumor doing the rounds at school!”
“Would you eat anything from there then Ryan?” asks Phil with a glint in his eye.
“No way, they wank in it!”
“I went in that new chicken place on Boscome road” says Glen “They are basically an imitation KFC. Instead of a Zinger they’re got the stinger. They do this chicken and onion ring deal where you get two lots of onion rings and a stinger. I couldn’t believe what they’d called it, a double onion ring stinger!”
The van erupts with howling laughter. Ryan’s deafening monkey laugh turns into a coughing fit then dry retching “DOUBLE RING STINGER!” he screams trying to breathe.
“Listen guys, We’ll stop at this service station to fill up" says Pilchard.
“Shall we have a whip round for petrol money?” says Phil red in the face from booze “How much each? Fiver? Tenner?”
“Fiver each should do it" says Pilchard.
Everyone starts rummaging around for money.
“You’ll have to put in for me” Says Marcus to Ryan “I aint got any money on me.”
F**king typical, thinks Ryan, Marcus is like a f**king woman.
“I don’t know about of any of you but I’m glad we’re stopping I need a piss?” says Glen yawning.
All are in agreement. The petrol money is handed to Phil, who proceeds to count it suspiciously.
“He doesn’t trust us!” laughs Mark.
“Bloody right I don’t!” shouts Phil.
They fly up the motorway off ramp. Pilchard doesn’t attempt to slow down gently. Instead he slams on the brakes again sending dozens of empty beer bottles crashing everywhere. Everyone hangs on for dear life. They come to a halt in front of a convoluted sign directing traffic to the shop/toilets and petrol station. Pilchard floors it around the corner.
“You’ve missed the turn off for the toilets, you tosser!” Shouts Marcus.
“I haven’t!” protests Pilchard.
“Yes you have, that was the entrance to the restaurant and toilets; we’re going straight to the petrol station after that it’s just the exit back to the motorway you chump!”
“F**king hell, they don’t make it very clear do they?” says Pilchard angrily “Can we get back to the toilets?”
“No, we’ll have to walk over from the petrol station" says Ryan.
They pull up on the forecourt and join the queue for the pumps.
“Check out the bird in the blue Mondeo” says Glen.
“Where?” says Ryan standing up and looking in all directions, subtle as a brick as usual.
“Over there, at pump three, tall brunette.”
“Sit down, she’ll see us you twat!” barks Marcus.
“Oh yeah, I see her, LOOK AT THAT F**KING ARSE!”
The girl sees the occupants of the mini-bus checking her out. She looks away displeased.
“She’s giving us the cold shoulder!” says Fat Dave
Mark squints at her “I suspect she’s just playing hard to get!"
“I think I got a little smile then!” says Glen.
“She was looking at me!” snaps Mark.
“What do you think it takes?” asks Pilchard.
“Eh?” replies Phil.
“Do you think it takes unleaded, or leaded or diesel for that matter?”
“You don’t know? F**KING HELL! Another thing you’ve neglected to find out!”
“I reckon it’s unleaded” says Fat Dave.
“Wait, wait, wait we can’t take a chance!” spits Phil “If we put the wrong juice in, it will f**k the engine up!”
“Maybe there’s a manual in the glove box?” says Jason.
Phil checks, there isn’t.
They pull up next to the pumps.
“Ask them in the kiosk” says Ryan.
“I’ll look a right twat doing that!” pleads Pilchard.
“If you put the wrong fuel in you’ll be the biggest twat who ever drew breath, I’ll ask them!” says Phil “If you want something done, you’ve got to do it yourself” he opens the door and storms off towards the kiosk.
Pilchard gets out and unlocks the petrol cap. He is relieved to see a faded green unleaded sticker next to it “HEY PHIL! IT’S O.K IT SAYS HERE IT’S UNLEADED.”
From inside the van it is noted how comically Phil is walking. He has this lopsided gait as if he was trying out a false leg. He stops walking towards the kiosk says something to Pilchard and then walks back towards the van.
“It’s a long way over to the toilet, I can’t be arsed walking over there” says Marcus sliding the door open.
Ryan notices a sticker on the inside of the Van door: a cartoon of a cigarette smoking sperm wearing sunglasses. Everyone gets out unsteadily. Their legs are stiff from alcohol fuelled inactivity. The walk to the nearest toilet is indeed 100 yards away that is if you can survive crossing the dangerous roads. Ryan looks for any bushes but it’s a tree-less wasteland.
“Hey, we can piss behind that wall over there” says Fat Dave pointing to a wall near the tyre pressure checking equipment.
“Good idea, as long as no one sees us” says Phil.
They all make their way over to the wall, making sneaky looks to see if anyone is watching.
Pilchard smiles to himself at how obvious they are the daft bastards.
Marcus points at Dave laughing hysterically “Your walk kills me Dave; you walk like your belt is around your knees! When your weight effects the way you walk it’s time to do something about it mate!”
“F**k off” says Dave waddling faster.
They all go behind the waist high wall and relieve themselves.
“I needed this!" says Glen.
“Stop looking at my dick!” shouts Phil at Mark.
“I wasn’t! Anyway I haven’t got my magnifying glass on me!”
“That’s not what your mum said to be last night!”
Marcus aims his piss over the wall and cracks up laughing.
“Leave it out!” snaps Ryan.
They finish and walk back to the van. They can see Pilchard queuing in the kiosk.
“The good thing is that Pilchard is such a disorganised sod that I don’t have to worry about him arranging a ‘gross-a-gram’ or anything dodgy like that" says Phil smugly.
Glen and Mark look at each other conspiratorially.
“Number five please mate" says Pilchard counting out the notes.
“Thank your friends for peeing all over the forecourt" says the old balding bloke behind the counter. His sarcastic tone irritates Pilchard.
“Your very welcome pal, I certainly will thank them and if you ever need them to piss on your little counter there, just give us a ring, it would be no bother at all!” Pilchard smiles at him tauntingly.
“YOU DISCUST ME!” spits the old bloke folding his arms and taking a step back.
“Whatever mate!” Pilchard slams the money on the counter and walks out the door. The other people in the queue look at Pilchard with a mixture of fascination and fear.
“That bloke in the kiosk had beef about you lot pissing behind that wall" says Pilchard putting his seat belt on.
“Did you say anything to him?” says Phil feeling anxious.
“Sure did, I told him that if he ever needed someone to piss on his head, he should give us a call!” Pilchard starts the van and drives off aggressively. They all look at the old bloke behind the counter; he stares back at them angrily.
“You sure told him Duke!” says Ryan jumping to his feet and baring his arse as they pass. They all laugh, apart from Phil.
“That old geezer was lucky that you didn’t throw you off the roof!” says Fat Dave sarcastically.
Phil feels irritated by this flippant attitude. “This is no joke, your temper is going to get you into serious trouble one of these days, you didn‘t used to be this bad.”
“I didn’t touch him; it just needled me that he made such a big thing about it.”
“What if he calls the police?”
“Eh?”
“He could call the police on us, pissing in public is an offence. He’s got our number plate on camera. He could call the police!”
“Stop worrying” says Crocket with contempt.
“STOP WORRYING! I’m already paranoid about getting pulled over for speeding and them finding Mark’s drugs. If that old bloke grasses us up for pissing in public and we get pulled over, we’ll be in all sorts of shit.”
“Chill out bean sprout” says Mark “The police wouldn’t be interested in a report of some lads having a slash on up a wall in a petrol station. I mean if a copper saw you pissing in the street, you’d probably get a caution but if he rang them they wouldn’t be interested, now calm down relax and have a beer.”
Phil mulls this over.
“And if we did get pulled over I’d swallow all me pills and they’d find nothing chap” adds Mark “Then I’d be out of it for a week!”
They all laugh even Phil who lightens up a bit. Glen starts handing out more bottles.
“You can have this one!” says Phil handing a foaming bottle to Crocket. The beer is dripping all over Crocket’s trousers; he holds the bottle over the dashboard.
“Thank you Mr Norris or should I say Mr Norris-Foreman.”
“Eh?” says Ryan.
“That’s going to be his name when he’s married; Norris-Foreman” says Crocket proudly. Phil doesn’t share his enthusiasm. He was picking the right time to tell the boys about this, now this little arsehole has made a public announcement.
“What’s this?” says Pilchard looking confused.
“Originally Julie wanted to keep her maiden name” he says wearily reminded of the hours of bitter argument over this point “But we compromised with a double-barrelled name.”
“So you’re going to be Phillip Norris-Foreman!” says Ryan exasperated.
Marcus laughs “You pussy!”
“I didn’t know anything about this" says Ryan.
Pilchard shrugs “Nor did I”.
“WHAT’S WRONG WITH HAVING FOREMAN AS A NAME?” shouts Crocket aggressively.
“Nothing if the BLOKE’S name is Foreman and the BIRD takes HIS name” says Marcus returning fire with equal intensity “Why should he have to take a f**king double barrelled name? SHE can have a stuck up sounding f**king double-barrelled name but it don’t mean he has to as well! THIS ONLY HAPPENS WHEN THE BLOKE IS A F**KING PUSSY AND THE BIRD IS A F**KING CONTROL FREAK PSYCO!” The bitterness in Vellacott’s voice goes through Crocket like a knife.
“THAT’S MY SISTER YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT YOU F**KING WANKER!” Crocket takes off his seat belt and leers at Marcus.
“Calm down” says Glen putting his hand on Crockets shoulder forcing him back into his seat.
“TAKE YOUR F**KING HANDS OFF ME!” bridles Crocket, his eyes wide with rage.
“I will, when you calm down" says Glen firmly.
Crocket considers his options. Glen is a very large bloke and looks like he isn’t going to back down.
“Come on Dean, he ain’t worth it” says Phil irritated that Marcus has not only insulted his future wife but also accused him of being weak.
“I don’t know why he’s having a go at me, I just happen to think that having a double barrelled name is a bit silly that’s all” says Marcus defensively.
“Marcus, Do yourself a favour and shut up" says Glen still gripping Crocket’s shoulder “You going to calm down?” he says.
“O.k.” says Crocket raising his hands in surrender, he turns to Marcus “Just don’t f**king slag my sister off again”.
Crocket settles back down. No one speaks for what seems like half an hour, glances are exchanged, an awkward silence prevails. Phil is miserable. He didn’t want to invite Crocket in the first place. Julie invited him and her dad without bothering to consult her husband to be. Luckily her dad didn’t think it was appropriate to go. Now Crocket and Marcus are at loggerheads. He shouldn’t have invited that tosser either. What has a double- barrelled name got to do with Marcus anyway? It’s none of his business. Having said that there is a grain of truth to what he said. He doesn’t like having a double-barrelled name but it is one of an endless series of compromises to keep Julie happy. This wedding has turned her into a monster, a neurotic, paranoid screaming monster. They don’t discuss the wedding plans, she dictates what’s happening and if he has the audacity to raise even the tiniest objection she goes insane and storms off. This stag do was supposed to be a laugh but it’s already a disaster.
Crocket stares broodingly out the window. He’s going to get that f**king Vellacott for rubbishing his sister and he doesn’t like that other prick Ryan either.
The sound of drum and bass fills the air again “F**king hell, what now?” says Mark “Y’ello, yeah? Hi babe, Where are you?” Phil glares at him, Mark shakes his head reassuringly “At home yeah? You feel O.K? Didn’t go to work today no? That’s probably for the best, look, like I said before, I’d love to have seen you but it’s a boy’s weekend, you wouldn’t have enjoyed it. I’ll see you in a couple of days anyway. Yeah, I miss you too Sam, I’ll ring you later.”
Ryan pauses mid sip of beer. This can’t be the Sam who works with his Karen? The druggy niece that never turns up? Surely not. The f**king sexy Sam he met once in a supermarket? After hearing about Karen’s nightmare colleague for so long he was bowled over by the exotic creature with the porn star body. He immediately had a new ‘four tissue fantasy’ as Vellacott would say.
Mark ends the call then double checks before saying “Thank f**k for that, she aint coming she’s seen sense.”
“Good” says Phil then adds “No offence.”
“None taken chap.”
“I need a piss" says Pilchard “I didn’t get a chance to go back there.”
He flicks the indicator on and pulls over into the hard shoulder in one vomit inducing movement. He slams on the brakes so forcefully that everyone is thrown around like rag dolls. The van comes to a halt in a cloud of dust. Other motorists assume that a tyre must have blown. Pilchard throws open the door and his lanky frame disappears up the bank and behind a tree.
“I tell you who has f**ked loads of birds like our friend Crocket here” says Phil “Matt Tyler.”
“BOLLOCKS!” says Ryan.
“No, it’s the God’s honest truth, he’s f**ked five birds this year!”
“I thought he had a bird and a kid" asks Marcus peeling another label from a beer bottle and sticking it to the window like multicoloured parking tickets.
“He’s got a kid but he’s split up from the mother" says Phil.
Glen staring into space “I know how that feels."
“Yeah, Matt’s been on the pull big time and he’s done well with the birds, five birds he’s f**ked THIS YEAR!”
“I don’t believe you mate" says Marcus shaking his head “Either he’s lying or you are.”
“Kiss my arse. It’s true you tosser!”
“Get him on the phone then” says Ryan.
“What?”
“Get Tyler on the phone, I want to hear it from the horse’s mouth.”
“O.k. I will” Phil pulls out his phone and finds the number.
Matt Tyler is standing in the milk aisle of his local supermarket when his mobile rings. He sees that it’s Phil and winces, feeling guilty about blowing the stag do out. Maybe this is a last attempt to get him to join them. But surely they would have left by now? He considers ignoring it but bites the bullet and answers it.
“Phil? Look sorry about…”
“MATT, Listen I’ve got someone here that has a question for you” interrupts Phil handing the phone to Ryan.
“TYLER, It’s Ryan, HAVE YOU OR HAVE YOU NOT F**KED FIVE BIRDS THIS YEAR?”
“Er..er..well, I’ve taken five birds out this year" replies Matt completely broad sided by this strange conversation. Both Phil and Ryan sound well pissed.
“BUT, did you f**k them all?”
“No, not all of them.”
“THANK YOU FOR CLEARING THAT UP” says Ryan smugly handing the phone back to Phil “He’s BEEN OUT with five birds this year but he hasn’t F**KED them all so I AM RIGHT!” he and Marcus high-five. The force stings Marcus’s hand, he howls with pain.
“Sorry about that Matt” says Phil “Now tell me again why you couldn’t make it today?”

Chapter four

Karen looks at her watch, lunchtime. At least this dump is so local she can go home for lunch. She stands up and puts her coat on. Karen is the only one who does go out for lunch and somehow that makes it her responsibility to run errands. Not a day goes past where she doesn’t have to get someone a paper, milk or some chips. She resents it.
Writing down their time consuming orders she leaves the demountable. It’s bloody warmer outside?!
Roger stops the ancient chugging forklift and rummages in his overall for his wallet “Going out, babe?”
“Get us a cheese and pickle sandwich, I’m starving” wait for it, thinks Karen, this chauvinist old arsehole always has to make some dirty remark.
“Although you look good enough to eat, if you know what I mean!” he says handing her the money. She laughs out of awkwardness.
Karen walks past the shops and garage back to Castle Street. As she gets 100 yards from home her heart sinks. There is a commotion outside her gate involving Mum Mum and the Silver Fox. As Karen gets closer she knows that there is no way on this earth that she will be able to avoid being dragged into whatever this drama is about.
“Karen, look there’s Karen, KAREN DEAR, CYNTHIA HAS LOCKED HERSELF OUT!”
Great. Between sandwiches and this shit, she isn’t going to get a lunch break at all. Eddie Reed sticks his head out but quickly goes inside. Suspiciously absent when he might actually be of help. He doesn’t want to get stuck with that Cynthia. Can’t understand her. He wants to watch the John Wayne film.
Mum Mum performs an elaborate mime, she points to her upstairs window; her left eye and waves her arms like she is trying to attempt flight.
“She went out to water her plants and the door slammed shut behind her. Her mum can’t hear the door bell you see.”
The front door of Karen’s other next-door neighbour opens and they are joined by another geriatric irritant. Derek Lee’s house resembles that of a rag and bone man. It is full of broken toys, junk and other rubbish. His back garden is full of broken things and his self constructed workshops. Karen told Ryan that they would have to put frosted glass in the window that overlooks Derek’s garden if ever they wanted to sell their house. Another example of a bloody council tenant messing up the neighbourhood. Derek Lee appears struggling with a paint-splattered ladder. He props the ladder against Karen’s wall roughly and removes a piece of sandwich crust from his unkempt white beard. Proving that pets look like their owners his jack Russell dog Oscar observes impatiently from inside his junk filled old porch.
“I’ll put the ladder against the old girl’s bedroom window and knock on the glass.”
“I don’t think that is a very good idea, Derek. It might frighten her” says Karen.
“Might finish her off more like” laughs the Silver Fox callously.
Mum Mum taps Karen on the arm, holds three fingers up and makes an elaborate flourish with her other hand. They all look at each other confused. Irritated Karen turns to the Silver fox.
“Surely one of her sons has a spare key? Someone should call them.”
“Good idea, come on Cynthia we’re going in Karen’s house to ring your son.”
The Silver Fox opens Karen’s gate and walks up her path with Mum Mum following behind. Why do they have to use my phone? The nosey old bitch just wants to see what my house is like. The whole thing is probably a set up, thinks Karen as she obediently opens the front door. They enter the living room; Karen notices how they all act like visitors to a stately home as they visually molest everything in the room. She hands Mum Mum a pen and scrap of paper. She lifts the receiver and prepares to dial the number. Mum Mum scribbles on the paper and proudly hands it to Karen. She has written the word “KEY”. Karen hangs up the phone steaming. After what seems like an eternity Mum Mum manages to communicate that she thinks that Karen’s front door key will also open hers. Ryan is not going to believe this.

“Jack got me really bad once” says Glen laughing “I was asleep on the sofa one Sunday afternoon and I felt this thing tickling my lip, he had got the bog brush and was cleaning dad’s teeth! We had been trying to teach him to how to clean his teeth at the time and he must have thought that was my toothbrush!”
“That’s pretty funny!” says Marcus “How do you like that story bullet head?”
Jason cringes “Not much.”
Glen chortles then stares into space mournfully
“Shhh, look at Dave!” says Ryan noticing that Fat Dave is asleep with his head against the window “Who’s got a pen?”
Mark smiles and reaches into his pocket “I’ve got just the thing for such an occasion” he hands Ryan a black marker pen “You always need a permanent marker on a long trip like this.”
Ryan leans over and gently writes ‘FAT TWAT’ on Dave’s forehead as the others try to stifle their laughter. Fat Dave momentarily wakes, opens his eyes then leans his head back on the window.
“That’s the funniest thing I’ve ever seen!” says Ryan crying with laughter.
Glen prods Mark “If you do that to me, I’ll break your legs!”
Phil takes a long swig of beer then turns to Marcus and Ryan “Do you still work with that bloke who knocks one out in the bogs every morning?”
Ryan smiles “Trap 3? Yeah, he’s still active”.
“Who’s trap 3?” says Pilchard changing lanes for reasons known only to himself.
Marcus rolls his eyes sick of this story “At 9 am, regular as clockwork a bloke goes into the canteen toilet where he habitually goes in the third cubicle for his morning wank”.
“I was the first to cotton on to what he was doing ” says Ryan “when I heard groaning noises and the sound of a belt buckle repeatedly hitting the ground emanating from trap 3. No one would believe me until they saw it out for themselves. The identity of trap 3 remained a mystery for some time, which resulted in accusations and speculations that it was in fact Trevor from reception. I poured scorn on that theory reasoning that as Trevor takes so long to do anything, he probably couldn’t wank himself fast enough to come. The mystery was solved when Tony Riley staked the place out waiting half an hour one morning until the culprit emerged, turned out to be one of the senior managers”.
“Makes sense” says Pilchard “The management at Ledzers are all wankers.”
Ryan laughs “Tony Riley, the bloke we work with sorted out Trap 3 the other day. The lights in the canteen Gents aint activated by a sensor, there is a light switch next to the Gents door. This means that you can play practical jokes on people. We’ve all done it and we’ve all had it. It’s a nightmare when you’re taking a dump and some arsehole shuts the light off. Stumbling blindly through the total darkness not knowing if you have finished wiping your arse, the cruel steel hand-dryer waiting to catch an elbow or a confused cranium. Anyway, trap 3 was in session and this Tony Riley sneaks into the bog shouts ‘WANKER’ and switches the lights off!”
Phil and Pilchard bust up laughing. The rest of them stare blankly out of the window.
“Trap 3 even has a fag afterwards!” adds Ryan “They put an e-mail round the whole office saying that smoking in the bogs was against company policy, but we weren’t bothered about the smoking! This geezer Trevor on reception is a real nutjob, his voice sounds like it is on rewind. He sounds like a tape recording of someone doing a bad impersonation of Sean Connery played at half the normal speed. Most people think that they have reached an answer machine with nearly flat batteries when he speaks on the phone. Marcus put his foot it in with Trev real bad one day.”
“For once this is a true story” winces Marcus.
“We were going to lunch and Trev was talking to this ace looking bird, when we came back Marcus goes to him ‘Who was that bit of action you were talking to?’ Trev just looks at him really weird. So Marcus loses his temper ‘TREV, WHO WAS THAT HORNY BIRD YOU WERE TALKING TO?’ you can guess the rest.”
Phil laughs “Oh no, how embarrassing.”
Pilchard looks at Ryan looking dopey “I don’t get it?”
Phil rolls his eyes “IT WAS HIS DAUGHTER OF COURSE!”
“Oh shit!” says Pilchard “Did he deck you?”
Marcus shakes his head “No mate, it aint the f**king sugar factory! AND DON’T TELL US ANYMORE F**KING ACCIDENT STORIES!”
Pilchard sniffs “Suck my cock.”

Karen checks her e-mails before returning to work. There is one from Julie. She knows it is going to be a blow out before she opens it. It is addressed to all the girls invited to the girlie weekend:

‘Sorry guys, life has got on top of me what with the wedding and all. I need to clear the decks and have a little “Me” time. I’m going to give to tonight a miss, sorry guys. Enjoy.
Julie XX”
“Typical” hisses Karen “ME time!” She sees that Melanie, one of the other girls has already replied to everyone but Julie:
‘’ME’ time? ‘Me’ time? What better cure for stress is there than having a good laugh with old friends? I’m not being funny but Julie hasn’t got kids stressing her out. I’ve got a 2 year old running me ragged but I’m wouldn’t miss this weekend for the world because it’s going to be a laugh. Is she not going to have a hen night at all? Don’t tell Julie I said this! Text you later, Mel (Having a little ‘ME’ time!)’
Karen giggles like a schoolgirl but is never the less aggravated that Julie couldn’t pull herself together enough to attend. Karen is also pissed off that she has bought various herbal tea and other decaf trendy shit to give to Julie. She knows what Ryan will say. She looks at the clock.
“Shit!” she says leaping to her feet.

“I only see Jack once every two weeks” says Glen sadly “and she’s taking him away on holiday to Tenerife, so I won’t see him for three weeks.”
“Is her new bloke going to?” says Mark.
“Yeah, he seems like a nice enough bloke but he’s the one raising my boy when it should be me.”
Ryan looks over his shoulder “DAVE? FAT DAVE? DAVE?”
Fat Dave wakes up startled “WHAT?” he shouts oblivious to the insult scrawled on his forehead.
”Do you still have to take your shirt off when you go for a dump?”
Dave blushes “Er, yeah, still can’t get out of the habit, thanks for telling everyone by the way!”
“Even when using a public toilet, he has to take his top off or he can’t shit!”
“That’s a bit odd” Chuckles Glen “Never heard of anyone doing that before!”
Ryan nudges Marcus making him jump “Remember that f**king bloke Marcus? what was his name? We bumped into him the other day at the train station?”
“Gerard Key” replies Vellacott as he looks morosely out of the side window.
“Yeah, Gerard Key, that’s it. We saw Gerard Key from school on the platform with this drop dead gorgeous bird, well out of his league she was, she had these massive…”
“Didn’t Gerard Key used to go out with a bird from the Isle of Wight?” interrupts Marcus.
“No!” snaps Ryan annoyed that Marcus has hijacked his story “He didn’t ever go out with no bird from the Isle of Wight, anyway this bird we saw him with the other day had these f**king massive…”
“Gerard Key’s first bird definitely came from the Isle of Wight mate, I remember him moaning about how long it took to get down there with the ferry and all that shit.”
Ryan feels his blood boil “SHUT THE F**K UP ABOUT THE F**KING ISLE OF WIGHT, I DON’T WANT TO HEAR ANOTHER F**KING WORD ABOUT THE F**KING ISLE OF WIGHT, GERARD KEY NEVER WENT OUT WITH ANY F**KING BIRD FROM THE F**KING ISLE OF WIGHT, SO SHUT THE F**K UP AND LET ME TELL THE F**KING STORY ABOUT THE TART WE SAW HIM WITH THE OTHER DAY WHICH HAS ABSOC**TINGLUTLEY NOTHING TO DO WITH ANY BIRD FROM THE F**KING ISLE OF F**KING WIGHT, O.K?”
Ryan is surprised that Marcus actually looks put out by this outburst but carries on before he is interrupted again “Tits out here they was, I don’t know how a geezer as ugly as Gerard Key could pull a quality bird like that. He’s got ginger hair, buck teeth and walks funny, she was quality, we couldn’t believe it!”

“No Thor don’t do that!” Shrieks Linda.
Suddenly Drax runs out of her office looking distressed. Thor is in hot pursuit clearly in a state of arousal, the red lipstick poking out of his erect dick. Both dogs disappear into the warehouse.
“My sister has got to have a hysterectomy” says Mary.
“Oh, why’s that?” asks Barb.
“She’s got a vaginal prolapse, it keeps hanging down causing discomfort. She can poke it back in but it keeps happening”
Karen feels sick. First she has to put up with dogs trying to fuck each other and now those two old bags want to talk about this shit in the office?
“I had similar trouble” says Barb not wanting to be outdone “I couldn’t stop bleeding, it was like a horror film.”
Rick Michaels takes a fax from the machine and moves near Karen’s desk reading it with a gormless expression on his face. Karen is struggling to reconcile some sales invoices with the ledger book and doesn’t need any more distractions. The task is made harder due to Roger’s illegible handwriting. 9’s look like 6’s, 3’s look like 7’s and the customer specifications section of one order apparently requires “a witches hat left field palm”. Karen looks up at Rick waiting for him to ask her to do something with the fax, instead he is still staring at fax message while fiddling with his bollocks. She watches in disgust as he digs his fingers into the groin of his 1980’s style grey flecked trousers and makes an adjustment while pulling accompanying facial expressions. His niece returns from the icy toilet and throws her tiny trendy pointless handbag into her desk sending a wire tray of paperwork crashing onto the floor.
The sudden noise makes Mary shriek dramatically. Linda rushes out of her office like a scrambling spitfire pilot. Sam giggles looking decidedly unsteady on her feet. She’s obviously just taken something.
“Silly Me!” shouts Sam in an excited high-pitched voice as she bends to pick up the documents that have dispersed themselves in all directions.
“Butter fingers!” chimes Rick as if he hadn’t just uttered an overused and unfunny expression.
Karen notices how for someone who claims to suffer from severe back problems Sam is managing to pick up the paperwork without any problems whatsoever.
“Mind your back Samantha!” says Linda angrily “RICK don’t just stand there making cracks, give Sam a hand AND YOU KAREN COME ON MATE help poor Sam, Sam stop straining your back, sit down and rest your poor spine” Linda storms back into her office exasperated at how selfish people can be. Karen and Rick look at each other put out at her attitude. Rick even stops fiddling with his bollocks.

It starts to rain. Pilchard fiddles with the levers until the windscreen wipers clank and throb into life. The rubber strip is missing from one of the wipers causing it to scrape the window like a claw on a blackboard. They have been stuck in traffic for the last half an hour. The windows have steamed up allowing Ryan to draw large spunking cocks.Crocket chucks his empty bottle on the floor and reaches for another one “If two teams were to get to the final and one of them wasn’t Manchester united, I’d probably want it to be Arsenal. Their fourth goal, which came from the Liverpool corner, was a great goal.”
Phil nods “A good goal’s a good goal.”
“Fuller shows a lot of promise” says Fat Dave “he makes a lot of chances.”
“Fuller is a goal scorer but he’s still learning the game” says Mark eating an apple “For a right back he’s pretty good. He’s got a good ending and he’s quick but he looks about thirteen!”
Jason shakes his head “He irritates me, he’s got pace and lethal sliding challenges but he makes bad decisions. He makes a run one way so the other has space but he just wastes too many opportunities for my liking.”
“Sjakker’s a f**king liability too” says Marcus.
Glen looks at him and shrugs “He’s not a bad goalkeeper but he’s not top level. What pisses me off is that he punches the ball away instead of catching it.”
“Curse of the foreign goal keeper mate” says Pilchard “and I would also question any player who favours Chelsea over Barcelona, it’s a no brainer. The crowds are bigger and you’re in a much warmer climate.”
Phil laughs “Players are playing and they don’t know who else to play for, they leave it all up to their agent to decide. What’s that all about?”
“I’ve got another cracking joke!” says Fat Dave tapping Ryan and Marcus to get their attention.
“There’s these two prawns right? One called John and one called Christian but John isn’t happy being a prawn, he wants to be a dolphin. Christian is sick of him moaning about being a prawn and wanting to be a dolphin so he tells John to go and see the big blue whale who knows magic.”
Fat Dave looks at the others making sure they are paying attention, they look back at him looking mildly interested. Dave hopes he doesn’t f**k the joke up.
“Yeah, the big blue whale knows magic. John tells the big blue whale that he’s not happy being a prawn and the big blue whale agrees to turn him into a dolphin. So John is now a dolphin, swimming though the water a lot quicker that he did when he was a prawn but he sees Christian and Christian looks so happy being a prawn. John realises that he’s made a terrible mistake. He goes back to see the big blue whale and asks him to turn him back into a prawn. The big blue whale says he’ll change him back on one condition that he never bothers him again. So the big blue whale changes him back into a prawn and John sees Christian and says ‘hello Christian, it’s John’, Christian says ‘but I thought you were a dolphin?’ John says ‘no I’m a prawn again Christian! Get it?”
They all groan or shake their heads, apart from Pilchard who roars with laughter.
“F**king brilliant, I love it! ‘I’m a prawn again Christian!’ classic!”
“It don’t take much to amuse you brother!” says Phil picking up a rolling bottle.
Ryan looks at the others “What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever stolen while drunk?”
“Beer trophies?” laughs Glen “Shit, I’ve nicked loads of stuff drunk like pint glasses, ashtrays but nothing weird.”
Fat Dave raises his hand “I stole a fire extinguisher when I visited my mate at university. I’ve still got it at home.”
“A bit irresponsible don’t you think?” says Jason laughing sarcastically “What if there had been a fire?”
Fat Dave shrugs.
“I was at a club back in the day and as I was leaving I took a record off the turntable” says Mark “The DJ must have gone for a piss, a record was playing and the other was on the second turntable ready to go. I swiped it on my way out chap. I shouldn’t have bothered though, it were shite. Funny thing was that we got pulled over by the police on the way home and there’s me in the back of the car trying to hide this record which I was convinced was the only reason we were pulled over. A copper shines his torch in the back of the car thinking I’m trying to hide drugs or something but I’d already took all the drugs I had brought with me. This copper orders me out of the car but all he can find is this twelve inch single! He were proper gutted!”
“I broke a toilet while drunk” says Crocket “I was at this pub which had live bands playing. I was in the bog and I noticed that the toilet seat was lying next to the bog so I put it over my head to make my mates laugh!”
“That is totally disgusting!” says Jason almost gagging “I don’t know where to start with that!” he shudders and shakes his head.
“Suddenly the band we wanted to see came on so I just chucked this toilet seat back into the cubical without aiming. Next thing I hear this crash and there’s water all over the floor. The toilet seat had hit the middle of the toilet bowl and had shattered the porcelain. I told my mates that we had to get out of there quick before the management found out but they wouldn’t leave until they had watched the band. I thought that they would lock the doors until someone admitted to vandalising the bog but luckily I got away with it!”
“I’ve got one” says Pilchard “our rugby team went to Scotland for a game but the match was delayed a day so we went out drinking. We got back to the hotel late afternoon and were all starving but the restaurant didn’t open for another two hours. Anyway Rhino notices that there is a function room all set up for a party with a table full of grub, so we broke in and ate the f**king lot!”
“Tell them the punch line” says Phil looking wearily.
Pilchard laughs “Turns out that the party was for this severely disabled kid and the police were called but Rhino said it was only him that did it and he got fined and banned from Rugby for life!”
“That’s well out of order!” says Ryan.
“Different class!” chortles Glen.
“Look there’s a golf course" says Jason changing the subject “I wouldn’t fancy playing in this weather.”
“Bit of a golfer are you mate?” says Glen smelling competition.
“Yeah.”
“Any good are you?”
“Not bad.”
“Where do you play?”
“I’m a member of Highcliffe, I play there twice a week with my dad.”
Glen realises that he has lost this one straightaway. Highcliffe is the most expensive golf course in the area and there is a massive waiting list. It is certainly not a place for a ‘hacker’ like him.
“Where do you play, Glen?” asks Jason.
“Cannet’s hall” confesses Glen announcing his lowly social standing “Me and Phil play there every Sunday morning. He’s a lot better than me; I couldn’t hit a donkey’s arse with a shovel.”
Phil turns around smiling a pained thin grin. ‘I might be a better player than you Glen’ he thinks ‘but you’ve implicated me as a member of a council golf course you arsehole’.
“I can’t see the attraction in golf?” says Ryan grumpily “These days every f**ker plays. They think it makes them posh or something, hitting their little ball around in the rain wearing stupid clothes, I don’t get it? Whoever’s got the best handicap must have the biggest cock. That’s how they carry on. Am I right?”
“No, you’re still a prick!” shouts Phil “Golf is an enjoyable game; you don’t know what you’re talking about as usual!”
“F**king traffic, what’s the hold up?” says Crocket impatiently.
“No idea but it’s pissing me off” says Pilchard.
Ryan looks at the depressed frustrated faces of the other motorists.
“Hey Marcus” Shouts Phil, his eyes sparkling with devilment “Tell everyone about the time you got a duck umbrella in the nuts!”
Marcus screws his face up in frustration, will this story ever die?
“Yeah, didn’t you spread a rumour that some bird put dog food around her snatch so her dog would lick it off?” adds Pilchard looking over his shoulder at Marcus.
“NO I F**KING DIDN’T!” blasts Vellacott giving Ryan a dirty look.
“YES YOU F**KING DID! “ Contradicts Fat Dave “We used to howl like dogs whenever she would walk past, she didn’t like it much!”
“Funny that” says Glen sarcastically.
Marcus fumes silently while staring morosely out of the window. He involuntarily holds his testicles at the memory.
“How did it go boys?” Goads Phil “On the count of three…one…two…three”
Everyone apart from Marcus lets rip with a cacophony of howling dog impersonations.
F**king twats, thinks Marcus.
“Tell them about your last foreign holiday Glen!” says Phil with a malevolent look on his face.
Glen rolls his eyes “F**king hell, it’s a long story!”
“We’ve got sod all else to do” yawns Pilchard.
“O.K , I had booked a holiday to Tenerife with Trudy, the bird from the coffee shop who was a bunny boiler” he gives Phil the finger ” and I’ll use that term despite what he says, anyway I had a holiday booked with this Trudy bird and a week before we were due to go, it all goes tits up. She told me it was all over, which was a shame because she gave a fantastic blow job, anyway, my first ever bird Hanna who I went out with twenty years ago gets in contact with me out of the blue. She sends me an e-mail via one of those f**king social websites where as soon as you join you’re sitting duck and every f**ker contacts you to make up the numbers. Well I had gone out with Hanna for a year in the early nineties and we were even going to get engaged but I dumped her for a girl who would take it up the arse. Anyway I hadn’t seen Hanna for twenty years and I get this email wanting to meet up. The bird from the coffee shop had binned me so I thought why not? So we meet up in town and ended up having a cracking time. She still looked alright and wasn’t as irritating as I remember. I mean a lot changes in twenty years, she was twice divorced and has a seventeen year old son, not mine before you ask! I told her about the holiday to Tenerife and how I was probably going to have to go on my tod. Next thing I know, she wants to come with me. I tell that I can’t pay for her as well and it would be five hundred notes but she’s still well up for it. She gives me the money the next day and I f**ked her for the first time in twenty years! It was a bit of a letdown to be honest because the body work had gone right down hill and her once tight little pussy was now like a f**king bucket! Anyway, it was a nightmare changing the name on the tickets in such short notice but I got it sorted in the end and the next thing I know we’re at the airport. For the first couple of days things were going o.k. although I noticed that she was putting it away quite heavily. On the third night they have this poolside barbecue at the hotel and everyone is having their photo taken with this group of Spanish dancers. I ask Hanna if she wants her photo taken with them and she suddenly goes nuts ‘YOU WANT ME TO LOOK A C**NT DO YOU? WELL F**K YOU!’ I couldn’t believe it, I was so angry that I couldn’t say anything to her. I got up from the table and went into the hotel bar toilet to splash some water on my face to try and calm down. If it had been a bloke I would have laid him out. I go back to the table and ask her what that was all about and she starts giving it again, so I told her where to go. The worst part was that Pat O’Neil, the Rydalmere defender from the golden 1998 squad was sitting at the next table with his wife and kids. She had shown me up in front of ‘the wall’ and that was it. For the rest of the holiday we didn’t talk which was a bit awkward seeing how we were sharing a room.”
“Did you sleep in the same bed?” asks Ryan.
“No, I was on the sofa mate. During the day I’d read me book by the pool while was at the beach. Anyway, we go to the airport at the end of the holiday and we still aint talking. On the plane you can’t just sit anywhere, we had reserved seats. We were in a row of three by the window. Now, normally I would let the lady have the window seat but she had pissed me off so much that I took it. That really needled her and she sat in the seat by the aisle leaving a seat in the middle. She’s going to me ‘I HOPE YOU DON’T NEED A PISS DURING THE FLIGHT BECAUSE I’M NOT GETTING UP TO LET YOU OUT!’ real childish shit. I said to her ‘IF YOU DON’T LET ME OUT, I’LL PRESS THE BUTTON FOR THE STEWARDESS AND IF YOU REFUSE TO GET UP WHEN SHE ASKS, THEY’LL HAVE THE LAW WAITING FOR YOU WHEN WE LAND!’ Luckily some bloke sat between us and when I needed a piss I said ‘excuse me mate’ and he stood up making it awkward for her not to cooperate! I got up loads of times just to wind her up, I felt sorry for the geezer in the end to be honest. When we landed she’s on the phone the whole time. I said to her ‘YOU BETTER BE ARANGING FOR A LIFT HOME BECAUSE YOU AINT F**KING COMING BACK IN MY CAR!’ and that was the last I saw of her. I told you it was a long story.”
“Classic stuff mate!” says Pilchard laughing.
“I’m glad my misery has given you a bit of entertainment! Apparently her last husband gave her a load of money to go clothes shopping one day and when she came back he had cleared out! I don’t blame him!”
“Remember what happened to Stuart White on holiday?” says Ryan excitedly “Him and his bird went to Ibiza but he spent the week with his mates and she was with hers, f**king strange idea that was as they weren’t even staying at the same hotel. Anyway he pulls this rough bird on the first night and gives her one on the beach, after that he mugs her off. He avoids her like the plague. At the end of the holiday both groups arrange to meet up at this big party and who is sitting next to his bird? You guessed it, the rough tart he shagged on the beach! Anyway Rough tart starts having a go at him for avoiding her and his bird goes ballistic at him for cheating! BUT he f**king ended up getting away with it! He denies everything and says to his bird ‘you’re going to take her word over mine?’ Unbelievable!” he turns to Phil and Pilchard “Didn’t you boys have a little trouble locating your hire car on holiday one time?”
Phil pulls nods “Don’t remind me!”
“What happened Chap?” asks Mark.
Phil points at Pilchard “Well, me and him were in Corfu and we hired this car for a couple of days and drove it to the other side of the Island. Incidentally, his driving fit right in with the locals who also drove like maniacs. Anyway, we went to this beach and spent the day f**king about unsuccessfully trying to learn how to body board. Problem was that at the end of the day neither of us could remember where we had parked the f**king car! We was walking around for hours, we even walked all the way back to the motorway off ramp to retrace our steps but still we couldn’t find the car. He’s getting more and more agro about it and suddenly he goes ‘f**k the car, let’s just forget about it!’ I had to remind him that they had my credit card details! Eventually we located the car but literally we started looking for it at four in the afternoon and didn’t find it until ten at night!”
“And the whole time we were looking for the car” says Pilchard laughing “we were followed about by this stray dog!”
“That was a nightmare holiday” says Phil angrily “the whole point was to get on the pull but we failed miserably. The blokes in the next room were Geordies and we got friendly with them. They were lethal with the birds. Me and him would be sitting on our balcony dejected after failing to meet any women and we’d be trying not to listen to the shagging going on in the next room. Every time we went out all that happened was that he would get paralytic. Remember the absinth incident?”
Pilchard laughs “Vaguely!”
“We’re in this bar and he says to the barman ‘give me the strongest drink you’ve got, don’t give me any of the shit you give the tourists, I want the strongest stuff that you give the locals!’ so the barman produces this bottle of absinth and pours some out for him. He downs it in one, turns to me and says ‘that weren’t that strong’ then collapses on the f**king floor! I had to drag him back to the hotel; he ended up with bruises under his armpits from where I was dragging him. I got him halfway back to the hotel and I saw this burger bar so I dragged him under a tree and went to get some grub. When I come out a group of lads were about to piss on him! I had to get nasty with them to stop them. Anyway, I get him back to the room and put him in the empty bath just in case he puked.”
“In the morning I woke up with all these coins stuck to me which had fallen out of my pocket!”
“It was a f**king nightmare the hotel was a dump and just after that I met Julie so from then on all my foreign holidays were with her.”
Crocket smiles “And then it was an even bigger nightmare!”
Marcus double takes “Oh, its O.K for you to say shit about your sister then is it?”
“SHUT UP MARCUS FOR F**K’s sake!” shouts Glen eyeing Crocket.
“I think the key to avoiding shit areas on foreign holidays is to find out where the Germans stay” says Jason “The Germans only stay in the nicer hotels and don’t tend to get as out of order as the English.”
Marcus nods “That’s true, but it’s easier to find your way back to the hotels where the English stay; just follow the piles of sick!”
“Hey Marcus, You got a suit for my wedding?” says Phil patronisingly “I’ll be aiming for you if you turn up in t-shirt and jeans mate.”
“I’ve got a suit” says Vellacott “I got it from that discount outfitters place in Argent Street.”
“Look a twat for less?” says Ryan.
Marcus smiles “That’s the place!”
“It’s shocking pink!” laughs Dave.
“Bollocks you chump” says Marcus “What are you going to look like in your suit you beached whale?”
Ryan turns to Pilchard “You got your best mans speech all sorted?”
Pilchard stops smiling “I aint going for the speech thing, I’m just going to read some cards out and propose a toast, that’s it.”
The van is filled with snorts of derision.
“You’ve got to do a proper speech, it’s expected” shouts Fat Dave.
“F**k that. Read a few cards, propose a toast and that’s your lot!”
“That’s going to be shit mate!” cracks Marcus.
“Tough, I’m not going to make a twat of myself trying to be funny in front of all of them.”
“What do you think about this Phil?”
Phil winces as yet another sore subject is poked for the amusement of the others “I’m fine with that, leave him alone.”
Pilchard looks really tense, clearly ruffled by their reaction. Ryan tries to make him feel better “I don’t understand where the whole best man’s speech being a comedy act comes from. You see wedding videos from the late eighties, early nineties and the best man literally just reads out a few cards from people who couldn’t make the reception, maybe gives out some bouquets then proposes a toast and that was all he had to do. Now the best man has to do a stand up routine which is either boring or inappropriate. I think it’s refreshing that Pilchard isn’t going to put us all through that. I’m glad he’s going to kick it old school.”
“I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU THINK!” screams Pilchard looking at Ryan with pure hate “I’M GOING TO READ A FEW CARDS, PROPOSE A TOAST AND THAT’S IT, ALLRIGHT?”
Ryan is stunned.
“WHAT THE F**K ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT PILCHARD?” barks Marcus “RYAN WAS STICKING UP FOR YOU, YOU F**KING PSYCO!”
Pilchard’s face softens; he turns to Ryan “Sorry mate, I thought you were taking the piss.”
Ryan smiles back “It’s OK.”
Phil looks at Pilchard “See what I mean about your temper?” he says wearily.

“Whose birthday is it next?” asks Barb loudly.
Karen tries to ignore her; it’s nearly time to go home. If she can get this sales spreadsheet sorted, it will save her a lot of time on Monday morning.
Barb emits her loud fake laugh “It would be so embarrassing if we forgot that it was someone’s birthday, wouldn’t it?”
“Isn’t there a Birthday list?” says Mary.
“You’re right Mary, there is a birthday list. We started it when we forgot that salesman’s birthday. What was his name? Peter, Paul, Patrick? Anyway Karen has it. KAREN! Have you got the birthday list?”
For fuck’s sake thinks Karen. She opens up the birthdays list on word.
“The next birthday is Martin in the warehouse in a weeks time” she calls
She goes back to the sales spreadsheet but for some reason it won’t calculate. Fuck it.
“What shall we get him?” calls Barb as if it was the most serious thing in the world.
“A BIG RED FIRE ENGINE!” shouts Sam Michaels in a high-pitched voice before laughing hysterically.
The drugs have kicked in I see, thinks Karen.
“Did you hear that Mary? Sam suggested that we get young Martin in the warehouse a big red fire engine! That’s really funny!” Barbs loud fake laugh filling the office.
Karen looks at the clock 10 minutes left to sort these figures out.
Mary laughs nervously “We could get him some aftershave or some socks with something funny on them. We’ll have a whip round for him. Who usually buys the gift?”
Here it comes, thinks Karen.
“Karen normally buys the birthday presents because she lives closest to the shops, KAREN if we have a collection for young Martin in the warehouse could you buy his present and card for us as you live closest to the shops?” asks Barb with an expression on her face that says ‘You’ll be talked about if you refuse’.
“Yes” says Karen struggling in vain with this spreadsheet.
None of these other bastards would bother to get the birthday present. It’s always her wracking her brains over what to get with the envelope full of shrapnel. She always has to put in extra herself to get something decent, only to have Barb and Mary criticise the choice of gift behind her back. Pack of twats.

Chapter five

Fat Dave scratches his nuts “I’m well out of date with what’s out there now. I was looking at my CD’s and it appears that I lost interest in new music in 2002, four years ago!”
Phil wakes up with a start “Where are we?”
“Outskirts of Blackpool thank f**k” yawns Pilchard. He’s tired of driving and tired of having to stop for them to have a piss. So far they have had to stop five times. For a couple of blissful hours his passengers were all asleep, snoring their drunken heads off. He remained awake by fantasising about shagging the new bird in the payroll office. Now it is starting to get dark. He follows the signs to the pleasure beach; the tower can be seen in the distance.
“Right” says Phil looking at a print out from the hotel website “It says here Leave M55 at kirkham exit, follow Cheverly signs. In centre Right at lights, 6 miles outside of Blackpool. Hotel on left.”
“There’s a sign for Cheverly” says Pilchard changing lanes without looking.
They travel the six miles out of town. Most nod off again.
“WAKEY WAKEY BOYS!” yells Phil “We need to find Kingsway Street and Oak Street. What road are we on?”
Everyone looks furtively out the window, although most can’t actually focus. Ryan has a hangover already. His head throbs in time with the windscreen wipers.
“Victoria Avenue” shouts Jason “We’re on Victoria Avenue, mate.”
“Victoria Avenue” says Phil squinting at the map. He can’t see a f**king Victoria Avenue. Bloody hell. He looks at the jumble of street names and it all seems so futile. Then his drunken eyes locate Victoria Avenue, his finger follows Victoria Avenue into Baxter Road, which means that Elwood Avenue is just off this road to the right.
“I’ve found it!” he shouts excitedly “We need to get into Baxter Road then Elwood Avenue is on the right.”
“WHAT THE F**K?!” yells Pilchard as the van stalls and slowly comes to halt.
“What’s happening chap?” says Mark wearily.
Pilchard tries to start it and punches the steering wheel “THE F**KING VAN JUST DIED, IT JUST CUT OUT!”
“Probably aint used to doing such a long journey” says Glen.
Ryan goes cold, what are they going to do? How will they get home?
“Pump the clutch and try to turn it” says Phil rubbing his eyes.
Pilchard tries this method and the engine roars into life, sending a cloud of black smoke from the exhaust. They all cheer. Pilchard guns the van around the corner.
“There it is!” says Phil excitedly “There’s our hotel, ‘New Roses’ guest house, number sixteen”.
“F**k me, where are we going to park?” says Pilchard restlessly.
The road is congested. They circle around the adjacent roads to no avail.
“Let’s see what’s down here" says Pilchard.
They drive down an alleyway and find a dozen lock-up garages.
“Let’s leave it there on the end, it aint blocking anyone in.” says Pilchard cutting the engine.
“I don’t know about this" says Phil “It don’t look safe.”
“Who’s going to nick this piece of shit?” says Mark.
“Well make sure you lock it” says Phil to Pilchard as they unload their gear.
They walk around the corner to the hotel. The whole street is filled with guesthouses. All have large signs outside advertising the fact that there are no vacancies. ‘New Roses’ is a terraced three-story converted Victorian townhouse. It looks well maintained and is covered with window boxes overflowing with colourful flowers.
They ring the bell, nothing.
“If we aint booked in you’re dead Pilchard!” Slurs Phil.
“Julie made the booking mate!" says Pilchard exasperated.
“Oh yeah!” says Phil embarrassed.
Ryan nudges Mark and nods to Fat Dave who still has ‘FAT TWAT’ written on his forehead.
Mark puts his hand over his mouth to suppress his laughter.
Fat Dave looks at them “What?”
“Nothing” says Ryan weakly.
They ring the doorbell again. They can hear heavy footsteps from inside.
“I’M CARMING, I’M CARMING!” sings a foreign sounding female voice.
The door opens to reveal an obese woman in her mid sixties. She has hair like a King Charles spaniel. With her slim legs she resembles a skinny bloke carrying a fridge.
“Hi, guys, Welcome, I’m Mrs. Randall” she booms breathlessly in an accent that is a mixture of Mediterranean and Lancashire. “Gee wiz, I hope you all fit into the rooms, CRAMPED, come in, can I carry a bag?” They decline her offer even though she looks capable of carrying the lot.
They enter the hallway, framed pictures of Greek fishermen and Mediterranean paintings crowd the walls. Ryan accidentally knocks a display of leaflets advertising local attractions onto the floor.
“This one piss already!” says Mrs. Randall sniggering as Ryan stoops to pick up the leaflets.
She squeezes behind a makeshift counter and opens a large leather bound book. She squints at it making faces.
“I need me spectacles, no good without them” She reaches into her apron and produces a pair of 1970’s era Elton John glasses.
“That better, now, now, now, now, now, now, Morris?”
“Norris” corrects Pilchard.
“Oh yeah, ten peoples, two rooms, ALL MALE.”
“It’s now nine people, one couldn’t make it" adds Phil.
“O.K nine peoples. Rights.”
She looks at Fat Dave and smiles uneasily “What that say on your head?”
Dave looks confused, then catches his reflection in the mirror “YOU BASTARDS!” he says smudging it making his entire forehead black.
Suddenly her jovial nature changes dramatically. She stares at Marcus menacingly.
“SPASLA?” She says aggressively with a disgusted sneer on her face “SPASLA JEVERLADRA? SPASLA MENTRA JEVERLADRA?”
“I’ve no idea what you’re even asking me” shrugs Marcus looking at the others and laughing.
“Sorry boy, I thought you were a…No matter, no matter, no matter.”
She smiles awkwardly looking unconvinced and produces two sets of keys, placing them on the counter.
“One key open front door, other key open room door, o.k. THE REGISTER. Now, now, now, write your names and address on this form so I know who stay here for fire regulations and in case you forget something. ”
They take turns to write their names and addresses.
She suddenly looks serious again “Listen, listen, listen, listen, listen" she says waving a finger and shaking her head dramatically.
They stand there listening.
“I want you have good time but DON’T SMASH UP NOTHING, everything itemised, ITEM-ISED, NO WITH THE SMOKE and don’t be WORRY TO MY OTHER GUESTS. And, and, and, and, and” her eyes are now wide obviously keen to make this point whatever it may be “DON’T BRING NO BIRDS BACK, NO BUMPY RUMPY, understand? Or you’ll be OUT DOOR PRONTO! ”
They all nod obediently. She smiles sweetly “Your rooms are FIVE and SIX, TOP of stairs on RIGHT, Breakfast is served BETWEEN SEVEN AND NINE, enjoy your stay.”
“Can you give us the number of a local cab firm please, Mrs. Randall?” asks Pilchard.
“Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah” she says looking around frantically. She hands him a card.
He gets out his phone and dials the number.
“Hello mate, can I book either two cabs or a minibus please, into town, there’s nine of us, yeah? O.K, The address?” He looks at Mrs. Randall having forgotten it.
“NEW-ROSES, SIX-TEEN EL-WOOD AVE-ENUE” she booms.
Pilchard repeats this information trying not to laugh.
“Er what town are we in?”
“CHEVELY, CHE-VELY.”
“Chevely mate, forty five minutes? Cheers. Right let’s get changed.”
They file past her amused by her mixture of friendliness and aggression. The corridor is narrow and the stairs are steep. They struggle with their lethargy more than their luggage.
“No bumpy rumpy!” mimics Ryan.
“Who’s going in with who?” says Jason.
“O.k.” says Pilchard “Me, Phil, Crocket, Glen and Mark will have one room, Ryan, Marcus, Dave and Jase have the other, O.K?”
Phil is glad of this decision. He didn’t want Crocket and Marcus in the same room. They shuffle into their respective rooms. The rooms are clean and tidy but smell vaguely of mothballs and mould. The same Greek pictures that decorate the reception hang on the walls of the bedrooms. She must have bought a job lot.
“Right meet down stairs in half an hour, I can’t wait to get on the piss" says Pilchard “and dress so that we can get into clubs, shirt, shoes, you know bouncer friendly” he adds about to close the door.
“I aint got a shirt or shoes” says Marcus nonchalantly.
“You’re a twat then!” says Pilchard “How the f**k do you think you’re going to get into clubs?”
“Hang on” says Ryan “I’ve got a spare shirt he can borrow, those jeans he’s got on are black, he can probably get away with wearing them, has anyone got any shoes he can borrow?”
“Who the f**k packs two pairs of nice shoes?” snorts Marcus.
“What size do you take?” says Jason.
“Nines” answers Marcus surprised.
“I’ve got a spare pair of tens”
“What did you bring two pairs for?” asks Marcus.
“Just in case, you never know what’s going to happen.”
“And don’t bother wearing a coat, it’s going to be hotter than hell in those clubs and we don’t want to f**k around with the cloakroom” shouts Pilchard like an old mother hen.
They close the doors and start rapidly getting changed. Jason hands Marcus a shiny pair of patent leather shoes. Marcus kicks off his trainers and tries them on.
“Bit big but they’ll do.”
“Don’t ruin them, eh?” pleads Jason.
“Mrs. Randall’s got really evil eyes, really cold and unnerving. What the f**k was that shit she was saying to you?” says Ryan creasing up the clothes that Karen has carefully folded as he unpacks his bag.
“Some racial shit, probably thought I was the wrong lot or something, you know some thousand year old religious shit like normal.”
“We’ll you do look foreign” Baits Fat Dave “And the name Vellacott does sound foreign.”
“And you do look like a fat twat because you are a fat twat” snaps Marcus spitefully “It even says so on your spam.”
Fat Dave looks in the mirror, spits on his hand and rubs his forehead “IT’S NOT COMING OFF!”
In the next room the sleeping arrangements are being discussed.
“The brothers can share the double bed, me and Mark with have the bunk beds" says Glen throwing his sports bag onto the top bunk bed.
“I hope you don’t wet the bed!" says Mark sitting on the bottom bunk.
“Where’s MY bed?” says Crocket looking around the room with a stupid expression on his face.
“There” says Phil pointing at the sofa.
“As if that’s going to be comfortable!” snaps Crocket with the arse.
“It pulls out into a sofa bed, look” Says Pilchard pulling the bottom of the sofa out making the springs vibrate “Now hurry up and sort yourselves out, I am f**king gasping for a cold beer!”
Meanwhile in the next room;
“I’m having the double bed to myself" says Fat Dave jumping on it causing a pile of folded towels to fall onto the floor.
“You’ll need it” says Marcus unkindly “I’m having the top bunk!"
Marcus tries to climb onto the top mattress. He falls drunkenly back onto his feet.
“If you can’t get up there now, how are you going to get up there later when you’re hammered?” says Jason.
“I’m hammered now mate!”
“Look at this" says Ryan staring at a laminated card fixed to the wall with a drawing pin.
They gather around it. It’s an inventory of every item of furniture in the room complete with a price to replace it.
“Fire extinguisher: fifty quid!” says Fat Dave.
“Well, you think about it, how many times do piss heads decide it would be funny to set the fire extinguishers off, if they know the damage it might put them off” says Jason.
“What do you think of Crocket?” asks Ryan.
“Complete and utter f**king twat” replies Marcus.
“I have to agree" says Jason taking off his shirt “I thought he was going to slap you earlier.”
“So did I” says Marcus “Luckily that meathead was there to stop the little arsehole.”

Karen arrives home after another shitty day. She checks the answer machine. Two messages. She hits the play button and throws her coat onto the sofa.
“You have two messages, message one. “Karen, it’s Mum. I’ve got a problem with my computer. Could you give me a ring? Is that all right? I’LL GET OFF THE PHONE IN A SECOND WENDY YOU FLIPPING PEST! Give me a ring please Karen bye, I’VE TOLD YOU…(Click).”
“Message two, “Karen, hello! Hello! Hello!”
She is concerned how hammered Ryan sounds.
“Listen, that druggy you work with, Sam? Is her boyfriend called Mark? Because if he is, he’s on the f**king stag do with us.”
Karen is taking her boots off she freezes mouth hanging open.
“She’s totally out of it on pills and in love with this Mark, she wanted to come to Blackpool this weekend, he had to talk her out of it. She’s been on the phone giving him shit. She aint even his real bird just his bit, anyway we’re having a great time I’ll call you later.”
Her head is spinning, smoking gun evidence of Sam’s drug abuse. She would love to tell her boss but they would either disbelieve her or sweep it under the carpet. Her mouth hangs open for the next fifteen minutes. She checks her mobile phone for messages, it’s switched off. She tries to turn the power on but she’s let the battery run down to nothing.
“Bollocks” she says looking for the charger. Ryan is away enjoying himself and she’s left to deal with all this shit.
She locates the charger, plugs it in and connects it to her phone. Hopefully the other girls will still be up for coming round tonight. The phone chimes into life. A message from Mel: 7 OK? Me and Deb are sharing a cab.
Karen sniffs angrily, she was hoping Deb wouldn’t come as she’s a real baby bore. Mel is a mum but doesn’t go on about her kid it as much as Deb. It’s always the same with her ‘Jack this, Jack that’. Fucking hell, Deb is worse than Julie. At least Julie hasn’t got a kid to go on about the whole time, just her glittering career and her stomach troubles, at least she hasn’t got to put up with all that shit tonight. Me time? She looks at the state of the house and hopes she’ll have time to make it look presentable before seven. Plus she’s got to go round mums, she can’t leave her waiting. She wonders how Ryan is enjoying the stag do. He didn’t really want to go. She can’t believe that he’s away with Sam’s drug dealer boyfriend. Ryan confirmed that Sam is on drugs, one more remark about poor Sam’s back and she’ll have to say something that’s for sure. She wonders what else Ryan will be able to find out.

Chapter eighteen

“One more f**king remark about Julie and I’m going to f**king have Marcus, I mean it too” Spits Crocket looking in the itemised mirror applying fresh wax to his hair.
“Dean, it’s my stag do mate, I don’t want any fights” pleads Phil.
“You might be able to stand by and let him bad mouth Julie but I swear that the next time he does it, I’m going to f**king knock his teeth out!”
Glen goes over to Crocket; he spins him round and grabs him firmly by the shoulders, pressing him against the wall. Glen towers above Crocket and is twice his size. At first everyone including Crocket thinks Glen is joking.
“As much as I agree that Marcus is a knob and no doubt deserves a slap, you are not going to ruin Phil’s stag do by sending Marcus to casualty.” He clenches a large fist and holds it an inch from Crockets face “I want you to be crystal clear about something, if you start on Marcus, I’ll start on you and believe me, YOU will come off a hell of a lot worse” he says in a voice made more menacing by its calmness.
The others don’t know what to do, especially Crocket. He smiles a thin frightened smile.
“O.k. Glen I won’t touch him!” he says breathlessly.
“Good and that way I won’t touch you.”
Glen releases him. Crocket goes back to styling his hair but this is difficult due to his shaking hands. Phil nods his thanks to Glen.
“Come on ladies, times getting on” shouts Pilchard.
“Phil, are you wearing that Rydalmere town shirt for a joke?” says Mark.
Glen gives him the finger “Bollocks!”
Phil spins round aggressively “Kiss my arse! They’re a lot better than the shite you support!” He pulls the front of his shirt up to his mouth and kisses it tauntingly “I nearly got a Rydalmere town tattoo once but Julie found out and went mental.” He takes the shirt off, throws it on the bed and starts rummaging around in his bag “Where’s me new shirt?”
He throws the immaculately folded shirt on and starts sprucing himself up in front of the mirror ignoring the suppressed laughter behind him.
“Phil, Have you got something to tell us?” asks Glen sarcastically.
Phil turns round wearily “Why?”
“Well, I’m just speaking for myself here but I’d prefer not to go to a gay bar if it’s all the same to you!”
Phil rolls his eyes “It’s salmon, not pink O.K? Salmon. And for your information Julie picked this shirt for me so if you’re criticising this shirt, you are criticising her and if you’re criticising her you’ll have her brother here to deal with!”
“OK Crocket” says Glen dramatically “I’ve insulted your sister’s honour so we’ve got to have a duel, guns or knives?”
Crocket smiles “You have the knife, I’ll have the gun!”

“I’ve never known a woman who didn’t have at least one of the following traits; Ugly, fat, thick, psycho- bunny boiler, shit in bed or boring. BIRDS ARE F**KING MENTAL MATE, if a bird starts piling on the weight and stops f**king her bloke she is effectively turning the hourglass on the relationship. THEY ARE F**KING STUPID! I’m glad I aint got a bird, I really am!” Marcus studies their faces for acknowledgement.
If he says it enough he might believe it himself but none else is convinced. If you truly believe that you will never obtain something you must convince yourself that you don’t want it. As a survival technique you must kid yourself that you hate the thing you secretly desire.
“I mean Ryan has to ring his bird every lunchtime or she gets the hump!”
“Admin, It’s called ‘Admin’, ringing them when you don’t want to. Every bloke who has got a bird has to do it. You try getting your dinner without doing your Admin. It doesn’t do to upset the horses!”
“Who is your number one at the moment?” says Ryan turning to Fat Dave.
“I’ve been knocking one out to that bird who works in the sandwich shop next to the station a lot lately.”
“Tribute, scenario or in a medley?"
“Eh?”
“O.K, a Tribute is when you have a wank just thinking about a particular bird, she could be in her underwear or naked. You could be f**king her, she could be sucking you off, it is a straight tribute to her. A scenario is where you set the scene before having a wank over a bird. Maybe you’re working late and she comes on to you or maybe you are on an overnight course and you get her pissed and shag her. A Medley is when you are thinking about a number of birds while wanking, it is not dedicated to just one bird.”
“So which one did you use on the bird from the sandwich shop?” asked Ryan.
Fat Dave smiles “Scenario, I’m the last customer of the day and she asks me if I want any sandwiches and cakes that they can’t sell tomorrow. I get chatting to her and end up going round the back and f**king her! Who’s your number Jason?”
Jason cringes not comfortable with this conversation at all “Shit, so many to choose from mate…er…I can’t think of anyone who isn’t untouchable…”
“F**KING HELL!” Shouts Marcus “THIS AINT BASED ON REALITY JASON! WE’RE JUST ASKING WHO IS YOUR NUMBER ONE? WHO IS YOUR FOUR TISSUE FANTASY BULLETHEAD?"
Jason shrugs and stares at the carpet.
“Leave him alone” says Ryan “Hey boys, I caught Marcus knocking one out over a picture of a tractor once, remember?"
“Yeah, but your bird was sitting on it with her tits out so I had trouble Coming!”
_________________

They meet downstairs. The smell of aftershave is overpowering.
Mrs. Randall is behind the hotel bar. The small bar is decorated with more of the same Greek pictures and is cluttered with souvenirs from her homeland. A smartly dressed elderly couple eye the arrival of these yobs suspiciously.
“You boys want drink before you hit the lights?” she calls.
“No, the taxi will be here in a minute" says Pilchard assuming command, he immediately changes his mind “But I reckon I could sink a quick one.”
He orders a pint of lager. His bulging eyes protrude even wider as Mrs. Randall pumps it into the glass.
“There you go MATE" she says placing the pint on the rubber tray in front of him.
He picks up the glass and downs it in one. “That hit the spot!” he says wiping the froth from his mouth.
“Gee whiz boy, YOU BIT THIRSTY EH?” says Mrs. Randall giving him his change chuckling.
There is the sound of a horn outside, they head out of the door. Mrs. Randall watches them leave and wonders what state they will be in when they return.

They pile into the plush mini-bus.
Marcus pushing Ryan “Move up, you’re taking up the whole of that double seat!”
Pilchard looks at them “You really are a couple of gay boys!”
“If we were gay” says Ryan loudly “who would be the bitch?”
“Marcus!” chimes Phil and Pilchard.
“HE’D BE THE BITCH!” shouts Marcus “HE’S THE BITCH INDOORS, HIS BIRD WEARS THE TROUSERS!”
“BOLLOCKS DOES SHE! IF WE WERE GAY YOU’D BE THE BITCH! I’D BE F**KING YOU; YOU WOULD NOT BE F**KING ME, O.K?”
“F**k me, this is better than the Van we travelled up here in, it smelled of sick" says Phil.
“Believe Me" says the driver “It takes a lot of work to stop this Van smelling of sick!”
Fat Dave suddenly starts roaring with laughter “HEY MARCUS?” he says trying to speak through a fit of the giggles “HAVE YOU FLOODED YOUR HOUSE LATELY?”
Ryan’s deafening monkey laugh fills the van and he and Fat Dave can barely breathe because they are laughing so hard.
Phil turns round to look at Marcus who shifts uncomfortably in his seat.
“I’m not f**king telling the story” says Marcus dismissively “These two twats can tell you the tabloid made up version. Go on Dave you fat arsehole let’s see how big a spin you can put on this” he points at Ryan “What you can’t make up, this f**king wanker will!”
Fat Dave can’t compose himself, so Ryan takes up the story “Marcus came in drunk one night and decided to run a bath. While the bath was running he made the fatal mistake of having a lie down on his bed.”
“TOTAL BOLLOCKS SO FAR! I WASN’T GOING TO HAVE A F**KING BATH!” huffs Marcus.
“So if you weren’t going to have a bath, why were you running a bath then?”
“I wanted to wash my duvet cover.”
“At that time of night? How did you expect to get it dry before you went to bed?”
“I had another one.”
Mark laughs “It’s a funny thing to be doing that late at night chap!”
Fat Dave slaps Ryan on the back “Marcus had obviously soiled his duvet cover, what did he used to call it when he would have a wet dream?”
“Wake up tossing” says Ryan “He reckons he didn’t start wanking until he was twenty three.”
The van is filled with howling derision. ”F**k the lot of you!” hisses Marcus.
Ryan continues “So he would regularly ‘wake up tossing’ as he would call it. Although sometimes he would toss in his pants when he was awake, like at school in that modular science exam.”
“NOW THAT IS BOLLOCKS! IT WAS GEORGAPHY!”
“Hang on” says Pilchard “You came in your pants during an exam? I’ve heard of people shitting themselves in an exam but cumming in your pants is pretty weird!”
Phil turns to his brother exasperated “The stories I could tell about your wanking habits!”
“Let’s get back to the duvet and the bath” says glen wearily “what happened next?”
“He fell asleep with the bath running” says Ryan excitedly “and woke up hours later when he heard his furniture banging together as it floated about downstairs! The ceiling had gone!”
“F**king hell!” says Glen.
“It’s bollocks!” interrupts Marcus “the water ran down the stairs, not through the f**king ceiling!”
“You had to have a new ceiling!” snaps Ryan “You had to live with your brother for two months while they did the work!”
“All right, all right” says Glen “Then what happened?”
Ryan rapid fires the rest of the story before Marcus can interrupt again “It was sorted out on the insurance but when they asked him what colour carpet he wanted, he said he didn’t care, so they gave him this white carpet which shows the dirt and then they asked him what colour paint he wanted on the walls and he said he didn’t care, so he got this piss yellow colour they obviously had been trying to get rid of for ages!”
“I’m speechless!” says Marcus “that sounded really rehearsed but I’ve never heard it before?”
“I’ve told loads of people but I’ve never told you, that’s why!”
Marcus shakes his head “The insurance company don’t ask you what colour paint or carpet you want. They give you the money to get it sorted yourself.”
“You mean to tell me that you actually chose that carpet and paint?”
Marcus sounds hurt “Yeah? Don’t you like it?”
“NO I F**KING DON’T! I always thought you had it dumped on you because you couldn’t be arsed to specify!”
Fat Dave chuckles away “I tell a version of that story where Marcus surfs through the ceiling and while still asleep goes down the street sitting in the bath!”
“Bollocks to you, you fat twat!”

“See, you select ‘File‘, then ‘Send‘, then it opens up into an e-mail” Says Karen. She is sitting in her mothers dusty junk filled bedroom.
Her mother sits next to her nodding but her stupid expression shows that she doesn’t understand a word of it but remains in complete denial.
“It’s a flipping nuisance this is, a flipping nuisance it really is.”
Karen moves out of the way “You try it Mum select ‘File‘, then ‘Send‘, then it opens up into an e-mail.”
Her Mother reluctantly places her hand on the mouse as if it was going to electrocute her. She selects the ‘Edit’ drop down menu.
“No Mum, ‘File’ then ‘Send’.”
“You said ‘Edit’ Karen” Says Her mother trying to cover her embarrassment.
Karen rolls her eyes “I said ’File’, select ’File’ Mum.”
Her Mother moves the mouse around violently having somehow lost the pointer.
“Do you and Ryan want to go out for dinner with us next week?”
“Yeah Mum, that would be great, what night?”
“Tuesday? Is that all right? Will Ryan be back?”
“Yeah, Tuesdays fine, Ryan will be back on Sunday night. Where shall we go?”
“We were thinking of going to the Fisherman’s rest? Is that all right?”
“Yeah, that’s fine.”
“Is that all right?”
“Tell you what Mum, we’ll pick you up, is Wendy coming too?”
“Yes but I’ve told her that we’re not paying for her, flaming pest she is!”
“We’ll pick you up at six-thirty?”
“Is that all right?”
“Yeah, no problem Mum.”
“Is that all right?”
“Yeah, O.k. let’s send that e-mail select ‘File’, no ‘File’, top left hand corner, ‘File’, that’s it, then ‘Send‘, no that‘s ‘Save as’, you want ‘Send’.”
Suddenly all hell breaks loose. “DID YOU BRING THAT GUIDE TO VENICE KAREN?” screams Wendy through the locked bedroom door “THE ONE YOU SHOULD HAVE BROUGHT WITH YOU THE LAST TIME YOU CAME ROUND, SUE NEEDS IT BEFORE TUESDAY.”
“Sorry I forgot!”
“THAT’S NOT GOOD ENOUGH, YOU’VE LET ME DOWN, WHY DID YOU SAY YOU’D LEND IT TO ME WHEN YOU OBVIOUSLY HAD NO INTENTION OF DOING SO?”
Wendy tries the door handle is aggressively.
“GO AWAY YOU FLAMING PEST” Blasts her mother “WE’RE NOT INTERESTED IN ANYTHING YOU’VE GOT TO SAY, SO GO AWAY!”
“F**K OFF MUM! JUST F**K OFF!” Wendy gives the door a mighty thump before running back to her room and slamming the door.
Her mother looks at Karen in amazement “That’s charming isn’t it? she’s nutty isn’t she? YOU’LL PAY FOR ANY DAMAGE TO THAT DOOR OUT OF YOUR KEEP!”
“Do you want me to send this e-mail for you Mum? I’ve got to go soon, the girls will be round soon.”
“Is that all right?”

Chapter six

They are dropped off in the centre of town. It is six thirty and the streets are starting to get crowded with revellers out to enjoy a Friday night of sex, drugs and violence. There are clubs and bars as far as the eye can see in any direction.
“Where shall we go first?” says Ryan as they stand rooted to the spot spoiled for choice.
“There looks worth a go" says Phil pointing at the Marmaduke, a large chain pub across the street “It’s cheap in there, I know we’re going to be paying through the arse for it later and I want to be drunk by then to take the sting out of it.”
They follow him obediently across the road. Ryan watches a taxi pull up on the opposite side of the road; a drunk looking couple in their fifties get out, the thug looking man slams the door and begins to walk unsteadily towards the Maramaduke. As the taxi pulls away the cabbie sticks his head out of the window and says something to the man. The thug spins round aggressively and tries to kick the taxi while screaming abuse and gesturing. This continues well after the cab has disappeared into the distance. Ryan sighs, wishing he was back home. What sort of night are they going to have in this cesspit? He notices a row of cash point machines next to the pub and turns to Marcus “Get some money out.”
“Get some money out, get some money out” mimics Marcus looking at Ryan like he hated him.
“You’ve got some money on you then have you? Because you didn’t when I had to pay for you when we chipped in for the petrol and you didn’t when I paid for your burger at the service station. There were cash point machines at the service station but when I pointed them out you just stared blankly at me.”
“Yeah Marcus get some f**king money out, we aint paying for you all night!” shouts Pilchard disappearing inside the pub.
Marcus reluctantly shuffles off the ATM.
The Marmaduke is full of young revellers getting tanked up before they hit the clubs. There are some amazing sights to be seen. Large glossy signs advertise ‘two for the price of one’ drinks promotions at loose change prices. The adverts also hypocritically declare that the establishment promotes sensible drinking. Inevitably the place has an odour of old men and vomit.
“What’s Vellacott’s problem?” says Ryan as they crowd around the bar. “He never has any money on him; I thought I was doing him a favour?”
“He’s like a woman" says Fat Dave “I haven’t seen him for years and he definitely is a bit light on his loafers these days. Anyone else think Vellacott is on the other bus?”
They all nod especially Crocket.
“I wish he was IN the other bus, then we wouldn’t have to put up with him!” grins Pilchard.
“You have done some pretty bad things to Marcus over the years,” says Phil “I mean you pissed in his beer at that barbecue, that’s just wrong!”
“Yeah but that was revenge for when he pissed out of the window of the train and got me in the face.”
Phil scratches his head “I thought it was Gilla who threw piss out of the train window?”
“Gilla threw a cup of lash over some commuters. I’m referring to the time that Marcus stood on the seats and pissed out of the window. I was looking out of the window further down the carriage and I thought it was raining, then I realised that I was getting a facial. So me pissing in his pint was revenge for that.”
“What happened?” says Mark smiling.
“Marcus had a barbecue at his house. He had a polypin, you know one of those cardboard boxes with a tap on the front that holds thirty pints. He was lying on his bed upstairs watching porn and stupidly asked me to get him another beer. The polypin was in the garden and I filled his glass but when I went for a piss up the wall. I couldn’t resist giving him a little piss top!”
“Did he drink it?”
“Yeah but not for a while, I kept laughing and I think he was suspicious but eventually he drank it.”
“Did he realise?”
“No” Ryan prods Dave “that was the same party he got you and your misses into an argument about anal sex!”
“Yeah, he asked her if I had been the first bloke to do her up the arse and she said that I wasn’t.”
Ryan laughs “Dave then goes ‘that might be true but I had f**ked thirteen birds before I met you!’ Then Dave and his missus started fighting like cat and dog!”
“Right” says Glen clapping his hands together “Who’s going to hold the whip and how much shall we put in for starters?”
“You volunteering?” asks Mark.
“I don’t mind" replies Glen “Tenner each for starters?”
They all fart about giving each other change until Glen is holding a wad of notes. He folds them and stuffs them in his breast pocket.
Marcus joins them noticeably limping in his borrowed shoes.
“How much is the whip?” he asks.
“Twenty quid” says Glen “I’m holding it.”
They all look at Glen waiting for him to tell Marcus the truth. He doesn’t. Marcus gives Glen a twenty-pound note. Serves him right, thinks Ryan.
“Right who wants what?” says Glen.
“I don’t know what to have?” says Ryan looking at the options.
“Have a shandy with a bit of lime in it” says Crocket spitefully “Otherwise you’ll be asleep in your beer soon.”
Marcus laughs like a drain obviously in one of his Ryan hating moods. Great thinks Ryan what a night it’s going to be, copping flack from both Crocket and Vellacott.
They order a round of drinks from the nubile young blonde barmaid.
“Put your hand up her skirt see what she does!” says Glen slapping Pilchard on the back.
The barmaid ignores this remark, another bunch of southern wankers up here on the lash. There is nowhere to sit. They take their drinks over to the corner. Crocket and Mark are doing shots already.
“That barmaid wasn’t bad but I bet she’s an airhead” says Marcus.
“Marcus, would you please stop offering your opinion on women” says Fat Dave “We’ve already established that you know nothing about them, I would value your advice more about tropical fish”
“Speaking of which” says Ryan smiling “One time my bird was doing D.I.Y on a Saturday afternoon and I was at a loose end so me and him went to shopping centre to look at the snatch. We saw a pet shop and decided to buy some fish. So we went in and started looking at the goldfish. It aint like the old days where all you needed was a bowl and some fish flakes. Nowadays you need a pump, lights and all this other shit. They won’t sell them to you if you don’t look like a responsible owner, especially him who wanted some tropical fish. He’s saying to the woman that worked there that he wanted ‘that one…that one and…that one’; she asks him if he’s got the special pre-heated tropical fish transporter. He holds up a goldfish bowl and tells her he’ll take them home in that. She looks at him in disbelief and tells him they would be dead before he got to the car. She then went back behind the counter and told the other girl serving. They expected us to walk out of the shop with our tails between our legs but as we walked passed them, he shouts, ‘See you later then, girls!’ It was f**king funny.”
They all crack up laughing.
“This girl I know went on holiday and asked her mate to move into her house and look after their Greyhound.” Says Fat Dave “When she gets back she not only finds a porno DVD in the player but she also finds an empty tube of anal lubrication cream under the bed! She knew that this girl had a bloke and that he’d probably stay but you don’t want to know that people have been having anal sex in your bed, especially if you never get the chance to!”
“Tell me about it" says Ryan.
“Still aint lost your Brown wings?” says Fat Dave.
“No, I’ve got more chance of getting into Metallica!”
Marcus looks over at the other group. Pilchard is clearly telling a Ledzers sugar factory accident story. He has his hands around his own throat and is miming blood spurting out.
“He needed forty five stitches!” he says laughing his head off. The others look at him grimacing at the horrific tale.
“Pilchard’s telling more f**king Sugar factory stories” says Marcus.
“Glad we’re over here” says Ryan “There’s this bloke we used to work with back home who is disabled but not visually. He puts on shades and pretends to be blind. Is there anything actually wrong with his sight?"
“F**k all, he drives!” says Marcus “He gave us a lift home once. He’s got that dodgy hand and that gammy leg but he can see perfectly. He even got a white stick from somewhere!"
“Why would he do that?” asks Jason.
“So he can look at birds tits. We saw him on the train once and he’s got his dark glasses on and he’s talking to this cracking looking bird. People don’t like talking to strangers on the train, but who aint going to talk to a blind bloke who’s asking for help? He stares directly at their tits the whole time and they don’t suspect a thing.”
Ryan points at Marcus “You were out of order to him sometimes, he’s got this hand that is bent behind him and Vellacott put a hot teabag in it”
“I F**KING DID NOT, THAT WAS SOMEONE ELSE, DON’T LISTEN TO HIM!" Marcus turns away from Ryan sick of the spin he always puts on these stories ““How’s it going with the birds Jason?”
Jason Cringes. This is awkward. He wouldn’t ever deny being gay but unless he tells people otherwise they think he’s straight. He is jealous of his effeminate gay friends. They are lucky enough to be obvious. They don’t need to ‘confess’ and risk the antiquated prejudices of certain people. It seems ironic that Marcus has been the victim of the queer jibes when he’s straight. Meanwhile Jason, a life-long gay man is considered to be completely straight. He keeps his relationships private but he knew deep down that the Neanderthal nature of a stag do would result in homophobic remarks. Although having said that, none have actually been directed at him. It does piss him off when they talk about it like there is something wrong with being gay. He has had to bite his lip a few times on the trip. He decides not to get into this now; instead he answers the question honestly but without revealing the orientation of his partners.
“I take someone out every now and then but I can’t seem to find one that I like enough to settle down with.”
“You’re doing better than I am mate, I don’t even take one out every now and then. What’s worse is that when you get to our age you have to accept the fact that if you do meet a bird she’s bound to have kids and you’ve got to take them on too.”
Marcus stares into space and sighs. Jason is surprised that he would reveal himself emotionally like this. He feels a burst of sympathy for him.
“Not necessarily mate, not necessarily. More people are single than ever these days, that’s why speed dating and internet dating are so popular, people are so busy working that they don’t have time to meet a partner. There used to be a stigma about meeting someone through a dating agency but now it’s really common. You should give it a go. A bloke in my office tried internet dating, he didn’t hold out much hope but it really got him sorted. He met this one girl and they now live together.”
“What’s she look like?”
Jason smiles “Rough!”
They both laugh, “She can’t have been as rough as Fat Dave’s ex-bird, she looked like her face had caught light and had it put out with a golf club!” laughs Marcus.
Ryan looks over his shoulder at the other group and turns to Fat Dave confidentially “I tell you who is a bullshitter?”
“Crocket?”
“Obviously that little wanker is a bullshitter but I’m talking about Glen.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah, he’s one of these Bertie big bollocks characters. All that shit about how many times he does his bird. You talk about any problem and he’ll scream that he doesn’t have it. He tells f**king lies. He gives it ‘Bertie big bollocks’ the whole time. You expect that sort of shit from a kid like Crocket but Glen should know better.”
“Dumbf**ks the lot of them if you ask me!”
Ryan watches a girl in tight jeans walking up the stairs “Family functions suck, especially Christmas. I hate f**king Christmas. Having to spend all bloody day with Karen’s family is enough to send me nuts!”
“You should do what my old man did one year” says Fat Dave “As my Mum’s parents were about to leave our place on Christmas day my old man tells them that this is the last time he’s going to put himself through this. He starts going on about how he never enjoys spending all day with them and that next year he doesn’t want to see them. He was totally drunk but he meant it. Every Christmas after that my mum and I would go to see her parents on our own, while my Dad drank himself stupid at home.”
“As tragic as it is that your Dad has a problem with the booze, I’ve got to say that he’s my hero having the balls to speak the truth. Most people dread Christmas because of who they’ve got to spend it with, it’s a joke, everyone pretending that they’re enjoying themselves. Again, it’s a women thing. How’s married life Dave?”
“Different, different to say the least. I’ve never had so much grief off of her since we’ve been married.”
“No?”
“Women see marriage as a promotion. They are now officially the most important person in the bloke’s life. Never mind his mother; never mind his mates, in her mind she rules the roost from that moment onwards. It’s like those mafia films where they get ‘made’. Once that happens you have to watch it. The bloke doesn’t gain from being married and it doesn’t really change him but the woman? F**king hell, they get even more difficult and of course when you’re married and you have a row she can threaten to divorce you. I’ve had that thrown at me a couple of times. Don‘t get married mate, it‘s all downhill from that moment.”
Fat Dave stares into his pint mournfully.
“Bloody hell Dave” says Ryan “Don’t tell ‘Kiss my arse’ all that shit, he’ll flee the country but you’ve confirmed a lot of my own thoughts about marriage. Luckily I’ve managed to avoid falling into that trap. Karen’s family are a right bunch of shitbags, I don’t want to be related to them bastards.”
“You say that mate but one day she’ll give you the old ultimatum ’Back me or sack me’, you know the old ’marry me or f**k off’ chestnut and you either go along with it or start world war three. I’ve been thinking about it; if it all goes tits up, I think I’ll go for an eastern European bird next time. They seem to retain their value. They know how to keep their man happy instead of just getting fat and frigid like the girls we’re used to.”
A tall brunette in a tight dress walks by them. Fat Dave’s whole body stiffens, he looks like he’s about to attack her. He shakes his head slowly and turns to Ryan, teeth gritted “I CAN’T HANDLE IT!” he shouts, his eyes full of desperate uncontrollable lust.
Marcus rolls his eyes.
Fat Dave grabs Marcus’s arm “Women don’t get it mate; they can’t accept that they drive a bloke to cheating. A bloke is supposed to put up with getting shit the whole time. Women are men-haters, I’m convinced of it. You see these articles in the paper about infidelity and they are always aimed at how to tell if the bloke is cheating. There’s never any mention of how to prevent a bloke cheating on you by not making his life a misery. The woman is always made out to be the victim, when they should have had more f**king sense. Women’s happiness is way too conditional. They can’t relax and be happy until a hundred things have been checked off their list. Whereas with a bloke, his happiness is based on the simple things like having a beer in front of the box, THAT’S IT! Not ‘I’ll sit down and chill when I’ve made ten phone calls, had me tits enlarged, f**ked about at the shops for hours, changed me job and we’ve moved house’, they resent it when they see their bloke relaxing and put it down to laziness. ”
Fat Dave stares into space slowly shaking his head.
Mark’s irritating ring tone attracts stares from all around the pub.
“Y’ello? Hi Babe, You O.K?” he says walking towards the exit with his finger in his ear.
“Admin again, I suppose” says Ryan watching Mark pushing through the crowd.
“I’m f**king glad his bird aint coming up here” Says Phil with an exasperated expression on his face “If my Julie had found out there was a bird on the trip, she would have given me a ton of shit”
They can see Mark standing outside the pub shouting aggressively into his phone. His face suddenly looks stunned into disbelieving silence. Then he gives one last burst of aggression before hanging up and walking back inside. He makes his way back to the group with a look of agitated amusement on his face.
“Had a nice chat?” says Phil sarcastically.
“Yeah chap, magic.”
“Same again?” says Glen clapping his hands together behind Marcus making him jump.
“Yeah, cheers” says Ryan “I’m going for a piss.”
He looks for the toilet and sees a sign that they are upstairs. Squeezing through the crowded bar he notices that the women are really dressed up to the nines ready for the clubs. He hates trendy violent nightclubs but you can’t spit in any direction without hitting a top notch bird. He self-consciously climbs the long flight of steep stairs to the toilets imagining how easily it would be to fall down them. At the top of the stairs he nearly walks into the ladies. The door to the toilets is propped open and obscures the ‘Fe’ part of the ‘Female’ sign on the door.
“Shit!” he says to himself turning around to see the gents at the opposite end of the corridor.
He pushes open the door to the cavernous gent’s toilet. A huge row of stalls and urinals greet him. The toilet is completely empty.
“I need a shit” he announces to the room and disappears into one of the stalls. The toilet isn’t too bad. There is toilet paper on the floor and plenty of drops of piss but not too much brown jack. He sits down. This trip isn’t as bad as he thought it would be. He’s having a good time. Suddenly the door to the gents opens violently; someone runs into the room and locks themselves in a cubicle at the other end of the toilet. The sound of dry wrenching echoes around the room. The bloke in the stall is trying to chuck up; suddenly a sound like a jar of pasta sauce being thrown down the toilet is heard. The vomiter is now gasping for air between pukes. Poor bastard, thinks Ryan. Ryan does the paperwork and flushes the toilet. The other occupant is now breathing heavily awaiting the next puke. Ryan walks over to the sinks and washes his hands. His drunken eyes spy the rusty and dented condom machine. ‘You never know’ he thinks rummaging in his wallet for change. Luckily he has two pound coins and a twenty pence piece. He inserts the pound coins quickly not wanting to be seen, because he always feels embarrassed buying condoms. He laughs at the instructions ‘Pull knob to vend’. There are three knobs to choose from. Not bothered about selecting a ribbed or glow in the dark prophylactic Ryan selects one at random. The packet drops into the tray. He looks at the small tube and slowly realises that it is in fact breath freshener mints.
“Shitty death!” he hisses looking at the condom machine in disbelief.
Sure enough, knob three is for the mints. Frustrated he looks in his wallet for any more change. He drunkenly hopes that he will have another two pound change but finds only a twenty pence piece.
“F**k it!”
He decides to wash his hands again after touching the knob on the vending machine. He lathers the soap all over his hands then starts playing air guitar to the song playing in his head. The soap spatters all over his trousers. He rolls his eyes and rinses the soap from his hands and wipes the soap from his job interview trousers. Semi-cleaned up he checks himself in the mirror and tries to make his hair look a little less flat. In the mirror he sees the toilet cubicle door open. Crocket comes staggering out wiping his mouth with a wad of toilet paper. He sees Ryan and freezes. His jaw drops. After all the bragging and taunting Ryan is the last person he wanted to witness this display of weakness. Ryan turns to face him smiling like a snake. Crocket’s shoulders slump, his face pleading Ryan not to tell the others. They stare at each other wordlessly. The only sound is a lone drip from the urinals. A silent deal is struck. Crocket knows that his dark secret will be out in the open if he picks on Ryan again. Ryan nods to acknowledge this, Crocket nods back crushed. Ryan leaves the gents victoriously.

“You took your time?” Says Phil as Ryan returns to the group.
“Yeah I was having a wank thinking about your Nan‘s tits!”
“Hey don’t tell Pilchard, he’ll be jealous, have you seen Crocket? We want to get out of here soon.”
“Nah, aint seen him” says Ryan fighting the urge to tell them about Crocket chucking up.
“I heard you’ve finished with that Daniele Pilch?” says Marcus mischievously.
Pilchard snorts “I’m well out of that, she kept texting me the whole time. Pester, pester, pester, moan, moan, moan. Trying to stop me seeing my mates, trying to stop me watching the football but the final straw was when she expected me to go to her dad’s birthday party!”
Glen Laughs “What’s wrong with being invited to your bird’s dad’s birthday party? It’s sort of what you have to do when you’re in a relationship.”
“Ah, but he sees the whole relationship conundrum a bit differently” says Phil “his ideal woman never contacts him, she just waits for him to ring her and knows that’s only going to be when he wants sex. She can’t expect to be taken to nice restaurants, if she’s lucky she will get to watch him and his mates playing video games all night getting out of it. And if she complains, she’s history. He tells he he’s got a new bird and I know exactly what’s going to happen; two weeks in and he’s pissed off that she texts him too much or complains that he doesn’t text her. Trouble is that he doesn’t get that it’s him that’s the problem do you brother?”
“F**k off” says Pilchard under his breath “I don’t like birds who do my head in, that’s all.”
Glen feels a burst of adrenaline as a shaven headed thick set man in a suit blocks Mark’s path as he walks down the stairs from the toilet. The man in the suit says something to Mark who double takes then embraces the man warmly.
“John fooking Hanton. Bloody hell chap, I didn’t recognise you! How long’s it been?”
“Must be what, six years?” says Hanton “You back up here now?”
“No, I’m still based down in Rydalmere chap, I can’t believe I’ve bumped into you, what are the odds?”
“I know, what brings you to these parts?”
“I’m on a stag do, a mate from work. We came up today so we’ve had a really early start. We’re going to hit the clubs a bit later, you’re dressed a bit smart chap? You having a few drinks after work?”
Hanton grimaces a smile which says ‘you don’t know do you?’ Mark knows that he’s just put his foot in it. “I’ve been to funeral mate, a colleague of mine contracted cancer last year and unfortunately he lost the battle late last month. So we’re having a drink for him. He was a great bloke old Neddy.”
Mark touches his arm “Sorry chap.”
Hanton smiles “you’re o.k. mate, you weren’t to know. He was only forty four, only ten years older than me. Makes you think doesn’t it?”
Mark sighs “Sure does chap, sure does.”
There is an awkward silence, Hanton smiles “What are you doing with yourself these days?”
“I work for an insurance firm, nothing much to write home about, yourself? You were considering the army the last time I saw you?”
“I didn’t take that route in the end, I joined the police mate” Hanton notices the shock registering on Mark’s face, the pills hidden in his shoe suddenly making his foot throb “Why do people always react like that?” he tickles Mark’s ribs making him jump “I aint going to search you!”
Mark laughs nervously.
“I’ve got into a really interesting area actually” says Hanton looks over his shoulder “I joined the armed response unit a couple of years ago, so I get to play with all their toys.”
“Have you ever shot anyone?”
“Why does everyone ask me that? Have I ever shot anyone? Only while playing paintball mate! Getting into this unit was why I relocated from Manchester. Listen; have you got time to meet the lads? I want to introduce them to the best midfielder the premier league never saw. Do you still play?”
“Yeah, just Sunday league stuff” Mark feels woozy as if he’s taken every pill concealed in his shoe and it’s just kicked in, he looks over at the sombrely dressed group in the corner “Sorry Chap, I’d love to meet your mates but we were just leaving. Tell you what, I’ll give you my number and maybe we can meet up another time?”
Hanton smiles producing his phone from his jacket pocket “No worries mate, hopefully it won’t be in another six years!”
“A friend of yours?” says Glen slapping Mark on the back.
Mark looks over at Hanton explaining who that bloke was to a massive bloke in a grey suit, he turns to Glen “Bit of a f**king bowel loosener chap, I haven’t seen that bloke for six years and now he’s old bill.”
Glen smiles “You didn’t try to sell him any drugs did you?”
“No, thank f**k, they are all in the f**king armed response unit.”
“Has he ever shot anyone?”
“Hey Mark, what club should we go to?” says Pilchard.
“There’s loads: Riley’s, Electric mile, Whispers..”
“Well pick one then, you’ve been in them all, they’re just names to us” says Phil restlessly.
“I think the best one is the Electric mile.”
Glen looks at his watch “Is it near or do we need a sherbet?”
“Sherbet?” asks Marcus.
“Sherbet dab: cab” explains Glen resorting to cockney riming slang.
Marcus and Jason share a glance, Bertie big bollocks has spoken.
“No, it’s just around the corner mate” says Mark lighting a fag.
Crocket sheepishly joins them.
“Where you been?” demands Pilchard clearly now as drunk as the rest of them.
“I went for a crap” Crocket says looking at Ryan.
“Right drink up ladies, Mark’s taking us to a quaint little club called the Electric mile” yells Glen.
“Is it safe?” Says Phil suddenly imagining being bruised and on crutches in his wedding photos.
“What f**king club is safe?” says Pilchard “Expect talent, intoxication and trouble, lets go!”


Chapter seven

Deb takes a large sip of wine “I’ve been having trouble with my ex again” she nods theatrically “He’s a pig, always late with his maintenance payments, never picks Jack up on time, always causing me agro. Now he’s got the arse about me going to Tenerife with Jack and Stuart. I mean we’re only going for a week and he’s giving it about how he never sees Jack. I told him he was being unreasonable, totally unreasonable. That’s him all over; it’s always got to be about him, him, him. Stuart couldn’t be more different, he’s kind considerate AND I don’t have to fake it! Glen thinks he’s such a stud but he’s got a dick like your thumb and he’s shit in bed. I’m sure he’s gay with his anal obsession. Stuart has never asked me to put my finger up his arse. Tickle me walnut babe! Fuck off will I! Why I ever got with him is a million dollar question girls? At least with Jack being an accident I can honestly say that I didn’t intend on having a kid with Glen! Tickle me walnut babe! The other thing he did recently that pissed me off was the fucking tree house. He wants to build Jack a tree house in his back garden which sounds ok until you consider that despite what he’d have people believe, Glen is useless at DIY. He can’t put a flat pack together; I always had to do it. So I’m not letting Jack play in some rickety dangerous tree house that that knobhead has built! No fucking way!”
They fall about laughing.
“Who’s tickling his walnut now?”
“Oh some stupid tart called Maxine, no brain at all. I’ve met her a few times and I don’t think she’s all there. So she’s a perfect match for him! If you’re going to dress like a tart at least have the figure for it. Why would she want to attention to her chunky flabby thighs by wearing those skimpy cut off jeans? She was wearing a croppy to show off her new belly button piercing but you can barely see it through all the flab she’s carrying. Still fingering his walnut should at least stop her biting her fingernails!”

Chapter eight

“I love the phrases Bertie big bollocks comes out with!” says Ryan as he and Marcus lag behind “Shebert dab!”
“Did you catch the one he came out with this morning? Doing a Linford! What a f**king idiot!”
“Different class!” mimics Ryan making sure he isn’t overheard.
“I went out after work on Friday for Pervez’s birthday, it got messy” says Mark “They wanted to go on to a club but I had trainers on. Pervez told me to put my black socks over my white trainers and if it was dark enough the bouncers might not notice.”
“Did you get in?" asks Phil.
“No they wouldn’t let me in anyway because I was so out of it!”
“Who gives a shit if you are wearing trainers or not? It still kicks off in those places whether you have to wear a suit and tie or a f**king clown outfit. Do they really think that people who wear shoes don’t start fights?"
They all drain their glasses and make their way out of the pub. Mark waves to Hanton who raises his glass and winks. It is now bitterly cold outside. They follow Mark down the street shivering and wish they had coats with them.
“How far is it?” asks Ryan “I’m freezing!”
Crocket wants to ridicule Ryan for being such a lightweight but holds his tongue.
“Just around corner” says Mark not entirely sure if they are even going in the right direction.
They pass an endless row of clubs and pubs. All look similar with neon signs and sullen doormen. An attractive girl walks by in a tight red jumper that looks like it’s been sprayed on. Her boyfriend has his arm tightly around her waist. He notices the group of blokes looking at his lady and shoots them a glare. Pilchard makes eye contact with him and smiles nodding his approval. The boyfriend looks away angrily.
“She won’t look that good forever” Pilchard says to no one in particular “In ten years time he’ll find that red jumper and weep!”
“Nothing special” says Fat Dave shrugging his unwashed shoulders.
“What’s so good about the club we’re going to that we can’t just go into one of these places?” asks Phil cuddling himself to keep warm.
“Electric Mile is the biggest, so you get more snatch!”
“And more arseholes!” says Marcus.
“Remember lads, if you see a bird you like, you have to go shit or bust“ says Glen “do this” he mimes pointing at the girl, pointing at himself then shags his left fist with his right hand index finger “If they look pissed off, just shout, no not you, you f**king skank!”
“Never fails eh?” says Phil rolling his eyes.
Eventually they reach the end of the street and are on the seafront. They are close to the Blackpool tower; they all stop to look up at it in drunken awe. The lights of the south pier twinkle in the distance.
“Stinks of seaweed round here” complains Fat Dave.
“So does your mother’s pussy!” yells Phil before remembering that Dave’s mum passed away a few years ago. He grimaces and curses himself.
“There it is, Electric Mile” says Mark proudly.
Living up to Marks description the electric mile is indeed huge with eight amusement arcades occupying the area below it. It is accessed by a large floodlit staircase, the football pitch size ‘Electric mile’ sign flashes red, blue and green above them. They join the large queue outside the club.
“Looks like a good place to get your head kicked in” Says Ryan turning to Marcus.
Marcus jumps up and down on the spot, shivering and repeating a mantra of “F**kshitbollocksf**kshitbollocks”
Due to the proximity to the seafront the temperature has dropped even further. The bouncers patrol the queue weeding out the underage and intoxicated. They make a beeline for their group.
“You got ID mate?” says a shaven headed doorman squaring up to Crocket.
“I’m twenty one!” snaps Crocket irritated at the accusation.
“Prove it then” says the bouncer sarcastically, looking Crocket straight in the eye.
Crocket pulls out his wallet and pulls out his driving licence. The bouncer scrutinises it suspiciously having seen every type of fake ID in the book. This one seems OK. He hands it back to Crocket, nods and walks off.
“Told you I was twenty one!” Crocket calls after him smugly.
The doorman stops dead in his tracks and turns slowly to face the little bastard that thinks he’s something he isn’t. Glen rolls his eyes, Crocket is well and truly on his own if he wants to get nasty with the bouncers. Glen knows that taking on security means rapidly being surrounded by dozens of assailants wielding baseball bats quicker than you can say ‘reconstructive surgery’.
“Don’t get too cocky son, I say who gets in this club. I reserve the right to refuse admission if I see fit” he stares at Crocket until the kids arrogant expression melts to one of subordination. The bouncer walks back to the door.
Crocket turns to Glen. “You and him must have been separated at birth”
Glen giggles like a school girl and gives Crocket a bear hug “Aw, do you feel unloved Davy crocket?”
Crocket struggles fruitlessly to escape his grasp. Glen sees a lot of himself in Crocket. He remembers the ‘fight the world’ temper well but that soon runs its course.
“Have you seen what’s happening here?” says Phil.
“What?” asks Pilchard staring at a girls arse as it sashays by.
“There’s a load of people arriving and going straight in, while we’re freezing our bollocks off out here.”
“Guest list” Says Mark cupping his hands around his cigarette in a futile attempt at keeping his hands warm.
“Eh?”
“You must have heard of a guest list! Those people are specially invited by the club, they not only go straight in but they get in for f**k all”
“Slags, wanker DJ’s and mafia then?” spits Phil as a large group are shown straight in.
“Mostly.”
“How much is it to get in anyway?” asks Ryan bracing himself for the worst.
“This club chap?” says Mark
“No, a club in Manchester, this place of course!” berates Marcus.
“About ten quid.”
“Ten quid!” shouts Ryan, eyes wide with exasperation.
“How much?” says Jason suddenly woken from his cationic shop dummy state.
“Ten quid” says Mark getting annoyed with these tight arsed f**ks.
“For ten quid I expect a blowjob thrown in!” says Fat Dave screwing up his face.
“Well ask the bouncer for one then” Snaps Mark.
“Ten sheets, f**k that and then the drinks are going to be a rip off too, No I think we should go somewhere else” Strops Ryan.
F**k off then, thinks Crocket but holds his tongue.
“What did you expect mate?” Says Marcus patronisingly.
“O.K” Says Ryan annoyed “Have you even got a tenner on you? When you were at that cash point did you get enough money for the night or are you going to be borrowing from us to buy these overpriced drinks? How much money have you got on you?”
“I’ve got enough.”
“Yeah, but how much?”
Marcus sees the rest of the party watching him for the answer to this question. He pulls a taunting expression and rummages in his pockets pulling out a few notes.
“I’ve got thirty quid.”
“Right” says Ryan smugly “So you’ve twenty pounds for drinks then? Not enough!”
Mark sees the dissention in the camp.
“Look boys” He says holding his hands in the air “This place is the nuts, it’s a bit pricey but it’s worth it. It’s wall to wall totty, wall to wall. You’re in for a fantastic night. Trust me!”
“I’ll tell you what you need to do if you run out of beer vouchers” says Glen making sure he has everyone’s attention “Engage in the ancient art of pint lifting!”
“Eh?” says Pilchard
“People leave their drinks unattended while they are on the dance floor and that means you can help yourself!”
“You wouldn’t do that Jason” scoffs Marcus “It’s not hygienic!”
“Yeah, that’s the only reason I wouldn’t do it” Replies Jason sarcastically.
“They put them posters up warning about the dangers of having your drink spiked” laughs Ryan “but if Glen’s about it’s not a case of what has someone put in your drink, it’s a case of where is your drink?”
They shuffle forward in the queue towards the neon surrounded ticket booth and the human wall of doorman listening to their inane conversation. “You need a certain level of physical fitness for any sport” says a bouncer earnestly.
After watching more people arrive and go straight in they pay what turns out to be only eight pounds and are frisked by the bouncers. Extremely ticklish Marcus screams and dances as he is searched. The doorman looks at him with total contempt.
“I’m confiscating this!” Barks a short but powerfully built black bouncer holding up the penknife he has found in Pilchard’s pocket.
“Will I get it back?”
“WHAT DID YOU SAY?” roars the bouncer eyes blazing.
“Will-I-get-it-back?” repeats Pilchard slowly wondering what the f**k is going on.
The bouncers face changes from agitated aggression to jovial amusement.
“I thought you called me a ‘F**king black’!” he says chuckling a deep and musical laugh. “It’s working here too long with all the loud music, my ears are bad. Yeah you can pick up your knife at the kiosk at the end”
He waves a very relieved Pilchard through.
“Can you recommend good dry cleaners?” he says to Mark.
Through security the muffled noise of dance music gives way to a cranium punishing racket as they push though two huge doors into the club. It truly is a huge cavernous nightclub stretching back as far as the eye can see. There are people everywhere crowded around the various bars and standing around waist high neon illuminated tables. A massive heaving multi levelled dance floor is bathed in an epilepsy inducing strobe of garish light. There are barely clad babes everywhere and hordes of violent looking males. Glen says something but it is so loud no one can hear him. He points to the bar and motions to follow him. Marcus shouts something in Ryan’s ear. Ryan shrugs shaking his head, all he heard was ‘AAARRRR!’. Frustrated Marcus cups his heads over Ryan’s ear and screams for him to look at the bird in the red dress who’s tits are nearly out. The pain is excruciating feeling like a screwdriver has been stabbed into his eardrum. He recoils shoving Marcus away.
They push through the crowd to the bar. It is five deep with mostly male youths waving notes with expectant looks on their faces. They believe the urban myth that the person with the £20 pound note in their hand will be served quicker than the person waving a £10 note. One thing is for sure, people are not being served in any sort of order. Various groups have been clearly standing there waving their notes for some time and are getting arsey that they are being ignored. This is how fights start, thinks Ryan as a tall youth howls with exasperation as the pretty dark haired barmaid serves the bloke next to him then walks to the opposite end of the bar and serves someone else.
Eventually they are served and a variety of what appears to be randomly ordered drinks are passed back. Fat Dave is handed a pint of what looks like soapy dishwater. He inspects it suspiciously, takes a sip and grimaces. Glen frantically waves at him and points to Marcus but Fat Dave’s attention has been taken by a short girl with large bouncing breasts next to him who is trying to get to the bar. Fat Dave is shaking uncontrollably at the sight of her; he goes to take another sip even though he clearly doesn’t like it. Pilchard snatches the pint from Dave and gives it to Marcus spilling it everywhere in the process. The short girl with the bouncy chest spins round to face them and points at her only slightly beer splattered dress, her face a picture of shocked annoyance.
“Yeah love, we’ve noticed, nice tits! “Sneers Pilchard inaudibly.
Then the abuse starts. The only words that penetrate the noise are “F**k” and “C**t”. Her head pecks back and forth, face contorted into an ugly scowl while jabbing a chubby finger at them. The boys watch bemused as she works herself into a frenzy. Ryan steps back feeling intimidated by the anger that is spilling out of this woman.
“You only got a bit wet, we’ll buy you another drink” says Marcus trying in vain to reason with her as she continues to abuse them.
She is suddenly joined by two friends; they are also wearing party dresses which are too tight. But also have the same aggro facial expressions. Ryan fears that they are going to join in but luckily they pull her away. As she leaves the area she gives them one last mouthful. Pilchard nods at her sarcastically then snaps.
“F**K OFF YOU SLAG!” he screams after her aggressively.
She says something threatening and disappears through the rubbernecking crowd. Pilchard looks pleased with himself; he puts his arm around Ryan and bellows in his ear.
“THESE F**KING MOUTHY AGGRO BIRDS, IF THEY WANT TO ACT LIKE BLOKES, THEY DESERVE TO BE TREATED LIKE BLOKES!”
They follow Mark up a flight of stairs and make slow progress towards the edge of the heaving dance floor. Moving within the club is made virtually impossible while carrying a drink. Ryan keeps his pint tight against his body, knowing full well that otherwise he’ll end up wearing it. There are people everywhere getting in the way, all seem to have spiteful expressions and cold drunken eyes. Phil can’t wait to get out of here. You could cut the testosterone with a knife. On the dance floor gangs of yobs are showcasing their limited dancing skills and a group of girls are actually dancing around their handbags. Mark shouts something in Ryan’s ear pointing to the dance floor. Unable to understand a word of it Ryan assumes Mark is pointing out a bird he smiles and nods. Mark’s face lights up, Ryan manages to lip read a statement that fills him with dread, “Let’s go then!” Mark turns to the others and jerks his head towards the dance floor. His request is met with total apathy. He shrugs his shoulders and motions to Ryan to lead the way. Ryan reluctantly squeezes onto the slippery dance floor. As soon as they find a suitable spot Mark begins dancing exactly like the other yobs. Ryan doesn’t know if he is taking the piss or actually dances like this. Unable to imitate him Ryan shuffles from side to side in time to the horrible banging dance music involuntarily playing air guitar. He would feel self conscious if he wasn’t so drunk. The strobe lights make the dance floor look like its spinning. Empty bottles roll around under foot and the floor is sticky as hell. The trendy looking goons in the large DJ booth make unintelligible announcements while a long queue of young lovelies wait to make requests. A large banner above the DJ booth announces that tonight is ‘Old fashioned hardcore with a twist night’. A DJ wearing a totally unnecessary woollen hat cues up the next disc using an old telephone handset.
“He’s f**king ringing his hairdresser to get his f**king highlights done!” shouts Marcus into Jason’s ear.
Jason recoils and shrugs “I can’t hear you!” he says.
“What?” Shouts Marcus.
Jason turns away from him, holding his glass up to the light, it’s filthy. He shakes his head in disbelief and looks at the bar. He’d go and demand a clean glass but it would involve queuing for at least an hour.
Mark smiles at any girl that makes eye contact with him. A girl squeezes past them and he immediately puts his hands around her waist and starts trying to dance with her. She pushes him away angrily; he turns to Ryan and shrugs unperturbed. Ryan looks over at the other boys. Marcus is trying to talk to Jason, Glen and Pilchard are pointing out the talent to each other and Phil and Fat Dave both look knackered. He realises that Crocket is absent, probably gone to puke again. He looks at a group of girls nearby. He is attracted to a blonde dancing awkwardly in painful looking shoes. She is pretty but is on the large side. She fits his profile perfectly. He has a theory that the larger ladies go for him because he is stocky and they wouldn’t look so big next to him. Most of the women who have shown any interest in him have been big. His Karen used to be the exception to the rule but has let herself go somewhat recently. He looks over at the blonde, she notices him staring at her and meets his gaze while sipping a drink through a straw. He smiles at her, She smiles back cocking her head to one side inquisitively. He feels an incredible burst of excited adrenalin. He turns to Mark but he is doing some strange arm rolling manoeuvre with his eyes shut. He looks back at the big blonde, she is still watching him notably dancing more seductively. He looks at the other girls she is with. A short dumpy blonde with bouncy breasts glares at him. F**k, it’s the girl who went mental at them at the bar. Bollocks. He turns away and looks over at the boys. They are all gawping over at the bar. Two youths in brightly coloured un-tucked shirts are literally nose to nose. They look like stags butting antlers in a nature documentary. Suddenly blows are exchanged and they disappear onto the floor. In a blink of an eye both youths suddenly reappear held in the air by doormen. They are still lashing out at each other but are placed in headlocks and dragged towards the emergency exit. A girl pleads with the bouncers not to throw one of them out but she is roughly seized around the neck and dragged with the others though the doors into the cold night air. Just before the doors close behind them her suffocated eyes bulge as she tries to scream. Other bouncers arrive and guard the door. A few moments later the other two doormen return straightening their jackets. As they walk away one shows his blood stained hand to the others. They all laugh.
Glen and Pilchard smile to each other entertained by the whole incident. Phil feels sickened, he can’t wait to get out of this shithole. He looks at his watch and frowns, f**king hours left. Crocket returns from the toilet where he did indeed throw up again. He asks if they saw the fight but no one can hear him. Mark didn’t notice the altercation; he is too busy trying to communicate with a dusky brunette in tight red trousers. Suddenly a cloud of vanilla smelling dry ice engulfs the dance floor. Just what you don’t need in a place this, thinks Ryan, you can’t see anything then you get a bottle over your head. The smoke clears and it seems that Mark’s efforts are paying off. He is arse to arse with the girl in the tight red trousers. She looks Latino and seems well up for it with old Markyboy.

Glen motions to return to the bar. It’s safe to say that most of their party are so drunk at this point that any more alcohol is scarcely necessary. There is no danger of anyone sobering up for hours. They are only intensifying their hangovers. But that’s the way it goes on nights like these. Phil spots another less rammed bar at the rear of the club and they follow him through the crowd. Ryan looks back the blonde who was giving him the come-on. He really would like to pull tonight, it would of course be cheating but Karen would never know. He remembers Phil’s assertion that ‘What happens in Blackpool, stays in Blackpool’. But how can he get the object of his desire away from her minder? He turns back to Mark but he has danced the girl in the red trousers over to the side of the dance floor. He mimes to get a drink and they leave the dance floor. Ryan looks back at the other boys but where the f**k have they gone? He wonders what would happen if he couldn’t find them at the end of the night? He is now alone and drunk which won’t help his attempts to find them. For a while he continues to dance made dizzy by the pulsating music but the thought of them leaving without him fills him with dread. How the f**k would he find his way back to the guest house? Surely Marcus wouldn’t go without him? But if he’s in a wanker mood anything is possible. He stops dancing and tries to see where the boys have gone. The sweeping lights illuminate only the hostile faces of strangers. He realises that he will need to leave the dance floor to find his companions. He looks over at the big blonde. She smiles again, no doubt about it, he is getting the green light. The aggro bird has disappeared. Time to go ‘Shit or bust’ as Glen would say, he decides not to do the mime. He battles with nerves, what if he’s read the signals all wrong or if she’s taking the piss. He thinks for a minute then says “What the f**k”.
He strides towards her with adrenalin pumping. He hasn’t felt this alive for years. She stops dancing and stares at him. Copying Mark he motions to her if she wants a drink. There is an agonising few seconds wait as she is distracted by one of her mates. He feels totally awkward standing there. Then it happens, she turns to him, smiles and nods.
Before he can motion to leave the dance floor, she takes his hand and leads him towards the bar. He can’t believe his luck.
“What’s your name?” he asks.
“Helen.”
“What?”
“Helen.”
“Hazel?”
She produces her phone and writes her name on the text screen.
“Helen, right, I’m Ryan” he says instantly regretting giving his real name.
As they push through the crowd to the bar he looks for the other boys wanting to show off that he’s pulled. Then again he doesn’t know if he can trust them to keep it quiet, especially that spiteful little arsehole Crocket. He is glad that he can’t see them anywhere. They get to the bar.
“What do you want to drink?”
She really is a peach, with lovely blue eyes and the type of ski-jump nose he is so fond of. The body work is a not up to the same standard.
“Vodka and lemonade” she says in a thick Scottish accent. That’s far enough away thinks Ryan.

Meanwhile the other boys congregate around the bar at the opposite end of the club. They are pleased to discover that it is far enough away from the speakers that they can actually communicate without mime.
“Look at these girls over there!” Says Fat Dave pointing to the dance floor “It’s not about how good a time you had when you went clubbing these days, it’s all about how good a time it looks like you had in the photo’s you upload on your social network sites!”
“You going on the pull tonight Marcus?” asks Glen.
“I ain’t really in the mood” shrugs Vellacott full of self doubt and neurosis about meeting women. What’s the point in trying to pull in a place like this? You’ll never see them again. He knows that these pricks would love it if he tried to pull and got shot down in flames. He’s no good with women, how long has it been since he’s had one?
“Come on boys this is a stag do, remember? Let’s see some bad behaviour!” but Glen’s attempt at motivation them is met by a sea of apathy. He pulls Pilchard to one side away out of earshot of Phil.
“Mate, what shall we do for Phil this weekend, get a stripper or something like that?”
“Yeah, we’ll have to do something” says Pilchard staring into space.
“What do you suggest?”
“I dunno stripper or something like that?”
“That’s what I just suggested!”
Useless tosser, thinks Glen, he’ll discuss this with Mark.
“F**king great for birds this place aint it?” says Phil not wanting to appear like a wet blanket.
“Well it’s your last weekend of freedom, your last chance to get amongst it.” says Marcus.
Crocket glares at Vellacott but knows the consequences of further aggro.
Phil would quite like to enjoy his last hurrah but he risks a life time of wondering if Crocket will ever spill the beans. He suddenly puts two and two together. Julie deliberately wanted her brother on the stag do because she knew his presence would act as a cheating deterrent. He tried to argue that he just wanted ‘the boys’ but oh no she wanted her little bro to go too. In fact she wanted her Dad to go as well, that would have been an even bigger deterrent, f**king bitch. He stares into his pint morosely.
“I’m going for a slash” slurs Jason walking unsteadily away.
He clumsily pushes through the crowd and makes his way to the gents. They are located down a poorly lit flight of stairs. He sees the stairs just in time and involuntarily dances down them swinging his arms wildly for balance. The toilet stinks of puke and there is water all over the floor from a blocked lavatory. He can hear a female voice coming from one of the cubicles. Confused he looks at the urinals and is relieved that he’s not in the ladies.
“Calm down Reece, I was just dancing with him that was all, don’t do anything stupid!” comes the worried voice from the cubical before whispering inaudibly.
Jason relieves himself, he thinks of this whole “Gay thing”.
Should he tell them? Are they really homophobic or is it just banter? Another pisshead enters the toilet and has trouble undoing his flies. He curses as he struggles with the zip. He realises that there is a girl in the gents and turns to Jason and pulls a surprised face. Jason washes his hands. The other pisshead just walks out. Dirty bastard thinks Jason.
“HE’S HAD IT COMING FOR A LONG TIME AND NOW HE’S GOING TO GET IT!” booms the aggressive male voice from the cubicle.
“No Reece, NO!”
A dictionary definition of a typical nightclub trouble maker appears. Early twenties, un-tucked brightly coloured green shirt, all wide eyes and incensed by drunken jealousy. He sees Jason looking over at him.
“WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT YOU CHINKY C**T?” he growls, his accent identifying himself as a local.
Jason is terrified, he hasn’t got the aggression or know how to physically deal with this yob.
“I don’t want any trouble” he mumbles meekly.
“YOU’RE F**KING GIVING IT, AINT YOU? YOU WANT A GO, DON’T YOU?” he screams getting more angry his head pecking wildly as a pretty but plump blonde girl tries to intervene.
“NO REECE, NO!”
He pushes her away and rushes at Jason. There is no time to get to the door. In total panic Jason instinctively throws his arms up to defend himself inadvertently knocking his attacker off balance on the slippery floor and sending him crashing into the sinks. The youth groans and for a second thinks that he has made a bad mistake. Some of these Chinese blokes know how to fight. He’s seen them leather three blokes at once before. This gives Jason enough time to run out of the toilet door. With adrenalin pumping he barges people out of the way trying to get back to the others. He looks over his shoulder, the youth is giving chase. Phil is the first to notice Jason charging towards them screaming and pointing behind them.
“What the f**k?” says Phil nudging Pilchard.
Jason stops running and covers his face with his arms. The youth appears nearly running straight into Fat Dave and tries to throw a punch at Jason. Before he can connect Pilchard and Glen grab him and force his him into a clumsy arm-lock. Crocket punches the youth in the back of the head, Glen pushes him away. There is a brief struggle but Glen’s choke hold soon makes the youth realise that he’s on to a loser.
Phil, Fat Dave and Marcus look on in shock. Pilchard sees a bouncer and waves him over.
“WHAT’S GOING ON HERE?” bellows the doorman noticing the restrained youth.
“THIS ONE HERE JUST TRIED TO TAKE A SWING AT OUR MATE.”
“YOU’RE OUT OF HERE!” barks the bouncer.
It is not clear for a second whether he means all of them or just the youth. Then he grabs the youth and drags him away. The plump blonde appears and argues with the bouncer. If she’s lucky she won’t be thrown out too. They disappear into the crowd.
“What happened?” says Glen as Jason tries to catch his breath.
“I had…a piss….then…then…he started calling me a Chinky c**t and tried…to attack me.”
“Did he hit you?” says Pilchard regretting not getting a few digs in before handing the youth over to the bouncer.
“No…I don’t know how but…I knocked him into the sinks and stunned him!”
“Must have been Kung Fu” says Marcus laughing.
“SHUT UP!” snaps Phil adding “I f**king hate these places, this kind of thing is always likely to happen” he doesn’t care what anyone thinks about this either. Some great stag do this is.

Karen looks at the clock, who the f**k is ringing the door bell at this time of the night?
She cautiously approaches the front door “Hello?” she says suspiciously. Deb joins her by the door brandishing an empty wine bottle.
“Hello, Karen, It’s Julie, I’m a bit worried about Phil, well, more than a bit worried actually."
Karen shakes her head and opens the door. Julie looks frantic, her eyes are red and she absolutely reeks of booze.
“Whatever’s the matter?” says Karen ushering her in and closing the door.
“I’m worried that Phil will cheat on me while he’s away, he’s on his stag do and I’m worried that he’ll have a lap dance or something seedy like that” whines Julie sounding as pissed as a fart.
“How did you get round here?” says Mel.
“I drove; I needed to talk face to face.”
Deb shakes her head “YOU DROVE? I bet you’re well over the limit. What if you had been pulled over?”
At this Julie bursts into tears “Don’t have a go at me!” she sobs “I really need some support right now!”
Karen sits next to her on the sofa and puts her arm around her “Julie, a lap dance isn’t cheating!”
“What if Ryan had one, how would you feel?”
“I doubt if we would ever find out, but if he did I wouldn’t be upset, they are on a stag do and that’s what blokes do, I mean we could go and see male strippers, is that cheating or is it just a bit of a giggle?”
“It’s completely different for women; they see strippers and laugh at them. Men see strippers and get turned on, and a lot of these places are a front for prostitution.”
Karen smiles “Julie, Phil won’t go with a prostitute on his stag do!”
“How do you know? How do you know Ryan won’t?”
“Julie, Julie you are getting silly now, there’s no evidence to suggest that Phil or anyone else will go with a prostitute while they are away. They will get drunk and act like idiots but really, prostitutes? Can you hear yourself?”
Julie wipes her eyes and stares into space “I’m sorry for implying that Ryan would cheat, you two were made for each other. Have you got any red wine?”

Ryan is having a fantastic time with Helen in a seated area at the back of the club. They are surrounded by dozens of other couples locked in passionate embraces including Mark and the girl in the red trousers. Ryan knows that technically he shouldn’t be doing this but he feels absolutely no shame. He has been driven to this due to the neglect of his Karen. Relationships are complicated but a bloke’s basic needs must be met or he’ll seek to meet them elsewhere, simple as. And by Christ it looks like Helen has every intention of meeting his needs tonight. Her hand is down the front of his trousers and she is franticly pulling his cock. It hurts more than anything but he’s not about to tell her to stop. His hand is rubbing between her ample thighs. Her access weight and tight trousers remind him of looking for a pound coin down the back of a leather sofa. Ryan looks over at Mark who is equally all over the girl in the red trousers. Mark catches his eye, retracts his tongue and beckons Ryan over. Mark’s urgent expression is hard to ignore.
“That’s my mate, let’s go and talk to him for a bit” he says to Helen.
She pulls a face at him.
“I want to stay here with you” she says in a baby voice.
“Look you stay here and I’ll see what he wants, I’ll be back in no time, I promise.”
She frowns at him but nods. Ryan darts over to Mark unashamed of his hard-on. Mark is snogging his new friend. Up close and in better light Mark’s girl looks older. Her crow’s feet around the eyes betray her true age but she’s still pretty damn hot. Ryan pokes him on the shoulder making him jump.
“What?” barks Ryan keeping an eye on Helen making sure she doesn’t go anywhere.
Mark stands up and puts his arm around Ryan’s shoulders, looking around the room confidentially.
“This little darling here has her own place not too far away; we could all go back there for coffee. Get my drift chap?”
Ryan feels an explosion of excitement but can they pull this off?
“And it’s ok for me and the other bird to come back too?” asks Ryan breathlessly.
“Sure but we have to strike while the iron is hot.”
“When are we leaving?”
“As soon as possible chap.”
“What about the rest of the boys?”
“F**k them, I‘ll send Glen a text as we leave”.
“Fair enough.”
Ryan nods and heads back over to Helen. She immediately starts kissing him. He reciprocates and whispers in her ear,
“Listen, the girl with my mate lives locally and they wondered if we wanted to go back for coffee?” he knows that this is will probably rejected.
Without a moment’s hesitation, she nods with an increased look of lust on her face. Well f**k me, thinks Ryan, I really cannot do any wrong tonight with the birds.
“They want to leave pretty soon, let’s go and get introduced.”
This time Helen jumps straight to her feet and leads Ryan over to Mark and the girl in the red trousers.
“This is my mate Steve” says Mark to his companion.
“I thought your name was Ryan?” says Helen suspiciously.
“It is, he’s got a shit memory, I only met him today, we’re on a stag do…not mine or his by the way, He‘s called Mark” says Ryan.
Mark pulls a face at him, annoyed that they are using their real names.
“This is Sarah” says Mark with a proud flourish of the hand “She works at the Casino.”
Sarah nods at them then continues to eat his ear.
“This is Helen from Scotland” says Ryan as Mark and Sarah kiss passionately ignoring them.
“Although I actually live in London, I’m up here on holiday this week” says Helen nervously.
Ryan’s heart sinks. London isn’t that far from Rydalmere, he doesn’t want to bump into her when he’s up there with Karen. He realises the unlikelihood of this happening but still there’s a risk.
Mark leans over confidentially “Mate, We’re in there like swimwear! Let’s go then, I’ll send Glen a text.”
“What are you going to tell him?”
“Er…I‘ll say something like…Me and Ryan will see you back at the hotel, don’t wait up!”
“Yeah, that’s it; I don’t want that twat Crocket to know what I’ve been up to.”
“Don’t worry chap, he’ll be none the wiser.”
Ryan looks to check that the coast is clear.
“Are you going to text your mates?” Ryan asks Helen.
“I’ll go and tell them.”
“No, send them a text it’s much better easier” Says Ryan knowing full well that her mate aggro big tits would never consent to Helen pissing off with one of the drink spillers.
“Ok, I’ll text them.”
Mark and Ryan swiftly head towards the exit hand in hand with their ladies. Ryan shoots a cautious glance over his shoulder as they walk through the double doors. It is freezing as they leave the sauna of the main club.
“You got anything in the cloakroom?” asks Mark feeling Sarah’s pert little arse.
“Yes, I have” she says rummaging around in her tiny snakeskin handbag “Shit, I can’t find my ticket!”
“Let me have a look” says Mark taking out her phone and various items of makeup “There it is!” he says relieved. They join the short queue for the cloakroom.
It’s a shame they can’t do head transplants, thinks Ryan. With Helen‘s cute face and Sarah‘s body you would have an A grade stunner.
“You better text your mates” says Ryan to Helen who is leaning unsteadily against the wall. She opens her bag and hands him her phone.
“I’m too drunk to do it!” She giggles.
He notices that she has two missed calls. He gets to the text screen with great difficulty and manages the following: Im leaving w a bloke I met C u you back @ hotle
“Who shall I send it to?” he asks her.
“Maddie B.”
He scrolls down the phone numbers but there’s no Maddie B.
“Or Claire Stark” she says trying to focus on the phone.
He finds Claire Stark Mbl and sends the message, deliberately switching the phone off and slips it back in her handbag.
He looks over at Mark and Sarah. They don’t look too happy.
“That’s not my coat!” she snaps at the girl behind the counter in the cloakroom.
“Are you sure babe?” says Mark noticing a doorman looking over.
“YES, THAT’S NOT MY COAT!”
“Let’s have another look at that ticket” says Mark picking up the moist screwed up pink raffle ticket “I know what might have happened, that last number might be a seven instead of a one chap.”
The flustered cloakroom girl disappears behind an endless rack of coats. She returns holding a tiny blue suede coat.
“That’s my coat!” snaps Sarah.
Mark is much relieved, he waves to Ryan and they head out of the door into the subzero night air.
Ryan looks at his watch “It’s a good hour before chucking out time; we should have no trouble getting a cab”.
There is a long line of taxis outside the club complete with two supervising doormen. They walk to the front of the rank.
“Where are we going?” asks Mark.
“Mayfield Estate” slurs Sarah.
Mark opens the door to the cab. A white haired old codger with an overbite and a bad Christmas jumper stares blankly at him.
“Hello Chap, Can you take us to the Mayfield Estate?”
The old codger looks around as if trying to find something on the dashboard then stares back at Mark.
“Well are you getting in or what?” he snorts nastily.
“You didn’t answer me Chap, I asked you if you could take us to the Mayfield Estate and you didn’t say anything?” Says Mark pissed off “Now you’re getting aggro when it’s you not answering that is the problem here!”
“I can take you to the Mayfield estate” says the Cabbie less aggressively.
Mark opens the rear door for Sarah to get in. Ryan and Helen get in the other side. Mark sits in the front next to Mr Congeniality. He starts the engine and they are off into the unknown. Ryan and Helen continue to snog and grope each other. Mark reaches behind him and feels Sarah’s leg. He looks in the wing mirror at her. She smiles at him looking very drunk. He notices the sticker on the dashboard ‘Fee for soiling cab: £100’. He prays that she can hold it together. Also on the dashboard is a plastic box with the cab firm’s cards in it, he takes one and puts it in his wallet.
“Have you texted Glen?” says Ryan breathlessly between mouthfuls of Helen.
“Nearly forgot! I’ll do it now” He pulls out his mobile and takes care of business.

Glen feels his phone vibrating in his trouser pocket and roots around for it looking for somewhere to put his beer down. He flips open the cover reads a message that makes his jaw drop: Me and Ryan have pulled two birds and are in taxi off to shag them senseless. Suck on that!
“Who’s that from?” says Phil.
Glen shows him the message.
“Bloody hell!” says Phil feeling an ugly mixture of anger and jealousy.
Glen shows the message to the others, except Crocket who is passed out on a seat in the darkness next to the bar. Marcus is crushed. This should be happening to him not Ryan.
“Hang on a minute” says Phil wide eyed “You don’t think they are taking them back to Mrs. Randall’s?”
Glen and Phil look at each other mouths hanging open. Glen sends Mark an urgent message: Don’t take them to our hotel or I’ll break your legs.

“I think my Stuart would take a blowjob over a screw. I suck him off if I can’t be bothered with shagging. Plus it don’t take long does it girls? You can get it over and done with during the adverts! Jack makes it difficult for us to have sex as he sleeps in our bed if he has a nightmare. The amount of times he’s nearly walked in on us. There’s me riding Stu with a sock in me fucking mouth so Jack don’t hear us. The worst one was when we’d just finished and suddenly Jack starts screaming. I chucked on me nighty and ran into his room. He was having a nightmare so I gave him a big cuddle, then I could feel the fucking come running down my leg! What about you Julie? What’s the state of your sex life these days?”
Julie waves her off “You don’t want to know, there’s not really much to talk about!”
Deb smiles “Come on Julie, you can tell us, you’re among friends. Gone off it have you? He doesn’t do it for you anymore?”
“I’m just too busy. I have to do everything at work and I feel like I have to do everything at home as well. Plus organizing this wedding is so stressful. So I’m too tired to have sex. I have to be in the right mood as well. I guess I worry too much, I have trouble sleeping most of the time, so I’m always exhausted.”
“Does Phil still want to do it?” says Julie looking concerned.
“Yeah, he’s always trying it on but that’s the problem. They way he goes about it puts me off. Slapping my arse, touching my tits, I feel like I’m being groped when he tries to initiate things.”
“Sex is more important to men, Julie” says Deb sternly “I’m sorry to come on all judgmental but you’ve got to be careful when they aint getting it. You said you were worried that he’d stray while he’s away but did you send him off with a smile on his face, so to speak?”
“No, he had to sleep on the sofa because of a text I found on his phone.”
“What did he say in the text?” says Mel.
“No, it wasn’t a text he’d sent it was one that he’d received from Marcus Vellacott.”
“It would be from that arse!” snaps Karen “What did it say?”
“Really looking forward to the weekend mate, can’t wait to get among the pussy.”
Karen sniffs refilling her glass “What a prick, he really is the pits!”
“Hang on Julie” says Deb holding out her glass for a top up “You shouldn’t have had a go at Phil. It’s just bloke talk that’s all. I go through Stu’s phone on a regular basis and the texts he exchanges with his mates are the sort you’d expect from a bunch of thirteen year olds! Blokes never grow out of it but you can’t read anything into it, it’s just the language they use when they get together. Plus how’s he going to get up to anything with your brother there?”
“I felt bad making Dean go, he really didn’t want to. He doesn’t know anyone, apart from Phil and he doesn’t really know him that well. Plus they are that much older than Dean. But I got in such a state every time I thought about the stag do that Mum ended up making him go when Dad dropped out. Dad said he was having back trouble but I think he just said that because he didn’t want to go. Plus we thought it might do Dean a bit of good after all he’s been through lately.”
Deb shakes her head “What has he been through lately?”
Julie goes to speak then stops herself; she looks at the others “You promise you won’t say anything?”
They shake their heads and look back at her wide eyed in anticipation.
“Well, Dean was seeing this girl Louise who works in the bakers and she got pregnant. We naturally assumed it was his kid and so did he. Mum and Dad went nuts at him for being so careless but he was saying that he was going to face up to his responsibilities and do right by her. Then comes the bombshell, she tells him that the kid aint his but she’s totally in love with him, it was a mistake and all that. She begs him to stay with her. It ripped his heart out but he dumped her. He got signed off work with depression and aint been back since. So we thought it might do him some good to have a bit of a break.”

Chapter nine

Ryan now has his hand inside Helen’s knickers. She writhes and twitches as they continue to kiss lustily. The cab is filled with a quick blast of drum and bass from Mark’s phone.
“I’ve got a message!” He says extracting it from his pocket as they drive through faceless suburbia “It’s from Glen” he says showing the message to Ryan.
Ryan laughs but is worrying about how they are going to get back to the guesthouse. This has all happened so quickly. One minute the boys were all together, the next him and Mark are off into the night with two strange birds. It does feel pretty rock and roll. It’s a shame that it couldn’t have been him and Vellacott embarking on this adventure. But Marcus simply does not have the balls for a caper like this. Mark is a real player, a predator. Sarah is laughing as Mark reaches behind him and takes liberties. Ryan notices that Helen‘s breath is starting to get a little rank. He reaches in his pocket for the fresh breath mints he bought instead of the condoms but he can’t find them. They must have fallen out in the club.
Sarah turns to Ryan with a glazed look on her face “Where are you staying?”
“In a guest house but not in town, it’s a little way out in..er..What’s the area called Mark?”
“Cleavely.”
“The old bag running the place is crazy. She’s Mediterranean and talks really funny; do an impersonation of what she said when Pilchard asked her for the address?”
Mark turns to them puffing himself up “NEW-ROSES, SIX-TEEN EL-WOOD AVE-ENUE!”
Ryan screeches like a monkey “I love that impersonation!”
Helen rubs Ryan’s groin “Did you say neurosis?”
“No” says Ryan flinching slightly from the heavy handed way she is feeling his crotch “the guest house is called New Roses.”
“Who’s being neurotic?” slurs Sarah.
Mark rubs her leg “No, our guest house is called New Roses which sounds like neurosis.”
“THIS IS THE MAYFIELD ESTATE.WHERE NOW?” shouts the cabbie aggressively.
“There you go again Chap, you’re saying that like it’s the fourth time you’ve been ignored but actually it’s the first time you’ve said it” says Mark screwing his face up.
Sarah directs him through a labyrinth of streets a series of lefts and rights until they pull up down a quiet street full of terraced houses. It reminds Ryan of his street back home. Mark pays the cabby and they all pile out into the night air. Ryan offers him half the fare but he won’t have it.
“What a wanker, that bloke was!” says Ryan as the taxi drives off.
“Tell me about it!” says Mark feeling Sarah’s arse.
Sarah puts her finger on her lips for quiet as she leads them to one of the terraced houses. The front garden has had a lot of work done to it, complete with palm tree and coloured stones. It looks better than the gardens of the other houses.
“Do you live on your own?” whispers Mark.
“No, I share with two other people.”
They walk up the garden path to the wooden front door. Sarah fumbles around in her handbag for her keys as the others fight their drunkenness to stay quiet. She opens the door to a dark hallway illuminated by a night light plugged into the wall.
“Turn the light on, there’s a dimmer switch on the wall behind you” whispers Sarah to Ryan as she closes the front door as quietly as possible.
Ryan obliges illuminating a tidy living room conforming to all the latest fashions; magnolia walls, hardwood flooring and trendy bookcases.
“It’s too bright, dim it a little” Sarah says squinting.
Ryan reaches for the dimmer switch.
“Shit!” he says too loudly as he realises that the dimmer switch is smeared with blood.
He looks at his hand; his fingers are caked in blood. He looks for the wound but can’t find any cuts. For a moment his face is a picture of drunken stupidity. Then he realises.
“This is soooo embarrassing!” says Helen her face as red as Ryan’s hand “Can I use your loo?”
“I’ll show you where it is, let‘s all go upstairs” says Sarah leading them through a dark dining room to a steep staircase.
Ryan and Mark exchange comic glances as they bump into each other negotiating the stairs. At the top of the stairs is a landing illuminated by another plug in light. Wooden African masks hang on the walls, Mark tries to put one on, Sarah stops him with a dirty look. She opens a door and turns the light on revealing a brightly decorated bathroom and toilet. Helen mouths ‘Thank you’, Sarah points to the room next door.
“We’ll be in there” she says softly then ushers the boys into the room next to the bathroom, closing the door behind them.
Ryan is standing on something. She turns on a bedside lamp to reveal a room of total devastation. Shoes, clothes, dirty plates and other crap are literally everywhere. There is so much junk on the carpet and bed that you can’t see what colour the bedspread or carpet actually are. Even at Karen’s most untidy, she has never managed to lay waste to room to this degree. It looks like a crime scene.
“Excuse the mess, I didn’t know what to wear tonight.” says Sarah with a shrug as she sees their expressions.
She clears all the junk from the single bed and signals the lads to sit down.
“Are we all sleeping in this room?” whispers Mark removing a hairbrush from under his arse.
Sarah nods, Ryan notices that her eyes are unnaturally wide. Has Mark given her one of his funny pills? He suddenly becomes concerned that Mark may be about to commit what the police will call date rape.
“Can’t Helen and I go downstairs on the sofa or something?” asks Ryan not too comfortable with the notion of doing whatever they are going to do in front of another couple. Mark nods his agreement.
“No, we’ve all got to stay in this room, my housemates get shitty with me if I bring anyone back, they can’t know you’re here.”
Ryan wonders what has it got to do with them? At that moment the door opens slowly. Ryan expects to see an incensed flatmate with a baseball bat but it’s Helen. She sees the mess, her face is a picture.
“Right then it looks like its lights out time then” says Mark.
“Are we sleeping in here all together?” asks Helen with a surprised look on her face.
“Yeah” says Ryan “but I don’t know where?”
Ryan clears a space in the corner of the room and fashions some discarded clothing into pillows. Mark swings his legs onto the bed and Sarah turns off the bedside lamp. Ryan and Helen awkwardly get on the floor. Helen starts sucking his face. He hopes against hope that she’d eaten a mint or something to sort her breath out. She hasn’t. Ryan can see Sarah taking her clothes off, her dancer’s body illuminated by moonlight. It helps him get hard.
Aware of Helen’s menstrual issues Ryan suggests other options. He takes his trousers off and kneels in front of Helen, gently pushing her head down. She does not resist. Ryan braces himself for his first blowjob in years. Karen used to do it all the time but co-habitation killed that perk. He feels her hand wrap around his dick and then her breath on it. He smiles to himself as her mouth gently closes around it. He feels like a rock star. He looks over at Mark and Sarah, recoiling in horror having just seen Mark’s penis. Is it really Dogging if you are also having sex? Ryan can see out of the window into the back garden of the house. A child’s swing stands by the shed at the end of the long garden. He groans involuntarily as Helen sucks his dick harder and faster. The bed is creaking behind them. Ryan takes another look and is surprised to see Sarah in what they refer to in the adult entertainment industry as the reverse cowgirl position. She is riding Mark facing away from him. She sees Ryan looking and smiles sweetly at him not like she’s riding a cock with her tits out but like she’d bumped into him at the shops. Behind her Mark is pulling the sort of faces usually only sported by drummers in speed Metal bands.

“I’ll give you a tenner if you have a dance with my mate” says Fat Dave pointing at Phil who stares morosely at the dance floor.
The cute blonde waves him off. Undeterred he walks over to a group of girls sitting in the corner “I’ll give you a tenner if you have a dance with my mate.”
A willowy redhead smiles drunkenly and looks at where the fat bloke is pointing. She turns to her mates who are eyeing Dave with much distain “O.K, I’ll do it!”
“Great” says Dave handing her the money “But don’t tell him it’s a set up.”
Dave kicks the table as he watches the shapely redhead walking over to Phil. She says something to him and points to the dance floor. The other boys look on with envy. Phil looks confused, then cocky and then worried. He smiles and shakes his head. The redhead says something else and grabs his hand leading him onto the crowded dance floor. Phil looks around feeling embarrassed. The girl gyrates and has all the moves as he shuffles uncomfortably from one foot to the other. Fat Dave wonders if the same trick would work for him, if he can get one of the others to set it up then he could have a result. Phil is relieved when the girl kisses him on the cheek and leaves the dance floor. She makes her way back to her mates. Fat Dave taps her on the shoulder “Thanks for doing that” he raises his eyebrows and smiles “Would you suck his cock for twenty five?”
“F**K OFF!” she shrieks shoving him.
“Fifty?”
“F**K OFF YOU ARSEHOLE!”
Fat Dave retreats back to the others.
“What did you say to that bird?” asks Marcus.
“F**KING WHORE!” spits Dave eyes blazing “I gave her a tenner to dance with Phil then offered her twenty five to suck him off. She didn’t want to know even when I offered her fifty! I mean if they’ll dance with a strange bloke for a tenner then that shows that there is a price list. Sit on his lap, show him your tits and so on. I’ve always had a lottery winning fantasy about turning nice women into prostitutes. That hot girl at work, the respectable one, are you telling me that she wouldn’t take it up the arse for five grand?”
Marcus stares out onto the dance floor “You need help, you really do mate.”
The rest of their party excluding Crocket who is still passed out in the corner are dancing like fools after having way too many shots. Marcus thinks they are all pathetic, especially Ryan. What a f**king waste of time going off with some skanky pig. He laughs sarcastically at how shit this night is. He watches that meathead Glen, who actually thinks he can dance. It‘s obvious that he knows that time is running out and is trying to pull something, anything. Pathetic, it’s all so f**king pathetic. He turns round to look at Crocket but all he sees is an empty sofa. Marcus looks to his left and sees two bouncers walking Crocket towards the door, throwing out another youth drunk out of his mind.
“Shit” says Marcus rushing towards the dance floor.
Glen sees the expression on Marcus’s face and looks around for whoever is chasing him.
“THEY’RE CHUCKING CROCKET OUT!”
“What?” asks Glen.
“THEY’RE F**KING CHUCKING CROCKET OUT!”
The others have taken no notice whatsoever of Marcus’s frantic attempts to communicate.
“THEY’RE CHUCKING CROCKET OUT?” yells Glen.
“YES!”
Glen franticly motions to the others to leave the dance floor. They don’t take any notice until Glen and Marcus run at full speed towards the door. They follow drunkenly, asking each other what’s going on. In the distance they can see Crocket being led by two bouncers towards the exit. His head is hanging loose like a rag doll. The lads push through the crowds but by the time they reach Crocket he is outside. The bouncers have sat him on a bench are walking back up the stairs to the club.
“Can you let our mate back in please?” says Fat Dave pleadingly.
“NO READMISSION” barks the largest doorman with a finality that prevents any further approach.
They suddenly realise that this is the end of the night, just when things were getting interesting.
“OK Boys" says Glen as Pilchard inspects the comatose Crocket “time to get the f**k out of here.”
Glen and Pilchard pull Crocket up into a standing position, only he can’t stand. They support him on either side.
“How are we going to get him into a sherbet? He’s bound to puke.” Sighs Glen as Crocket manages to look up at him and utter something unintelligible.
“He needs one in the breadbox” says Pilchard.
“Eh?” says Phil looking at the huge queue at the taxi rank.
“To make him sick, he needs a punch in the stomach to make him sick, it’ll make him feel better” adds Pilchard.
“Ok” says Glen walking Crocket into the shadows “Who wants to do it?”
“I will” says Pilchard.
Marcus, Phil, Jason and Fat Dave look on in amazement as Glen holds Crockets arms behind his back. Pilchard punches him in the gut hard. Crocket wakes from his slumber and howls in pain, coughs but no puke.
“Give him another one” says Glen as Crocket struggles to get free.
Pilchard hammers him again. Like a man drawing air after being underwater too long Crocket takes a massive breath then projectile vomits on Pilchards shoes.
“Ah, Shit, you f**king arsehole!” says Pilchard as he looks at his vomit splattered footwear.
“Right let’s get in the queue for a cab” says Marcus “shit look how long it is!”
“And we’ll need two taxis, there‘s seven of us” says Fat Dave as they stagger towards the queue.
Fat Dave helps Glen support Crocket as Pilchard tries to find something to wipe the sick off his shoes.
“I wonder where the other two are?” says Phil looking pissed off.
“I tell you where they better NOT be: our guesthouse.” spits Glen angrily “If we get there and the old bag has chucked all our gear is outside because of those two arseholes, there will be bloody murder committed!”
With his free hand Glen produces his phone and dials Mark’s number.

Ryan leans on a cluttered table breathing heavily. He looks down at the top of Helen’s head as it bobs rhythmically into his groin.
He taps her on the shoulder “I’m going to come!”
But instead of taking his dick out of her mouth in horror like Karen used to, Helen looks up at him and sucks harder. Ryan exhales loudly with a stupid subnormal grin on his face and shudders like he‘s being electrocuted, Helen smiles then swallows it. This is by far the most rock and roll thing Ryan has ever done. A one night stand in the same room as a mate. Having said that, he has only met Mark that day and what does he really know about him? He works with Phil, is shagging that sort that works with Karen and is a drug dealer. He might never see Mark again after this weekend. Apart from at the wedding, shit, the wedding! What if Mark tells Karen about this? But why would he? Sarah is now in the doggie position facing away from them. Suddenly the room is filled with a familiar deafening sound of drum and bass.
“Shit!” says Mark franticly reaching into his trousers which are around his ankles for his phone.
Sarah looks over her shoulder firstly at Mark then Ryan and Helen. She definitely looks like she’s on something.
“No, were not at the guest house, can’t talk now, got to go.”
He pockets the phone then continues hammering away Ryan can’t stop looking; it’s like being in a porno. He notices Mark’s testicles and turns away again in disgust.
Then the door opens. Their first reaction is that the door has opened in the wind or something. Then the bedroom light is switched on. A tall chunky bloke in a black faded dressing gown enters the room and looks absolutely speechless as he surveys the scene in front of him. There is a moment of silence as people franticly cover themselves up. The intruder rubs his thick goatee beard for a second then explodes;
“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?”
“Who are you chap?” says Mark sizing him up.
“I’m her F**KING HUSBAND THAT’S WHO I AM PAL!”
“Oh shit, she didn’t tell me she was married Chap, swear on my life” says Mark standing up to face him.
All eyes are on Sarah, who looks more annoyed than embarrassed.
“Piss off Rob!” She says nonchalantly “You’re not my husband anymore, you’re my soon to be ex-husband and thank god for that!”
Mark puts himself between them but instead of violence Rob’s eyes redden and he sits down on the bed visibly shaken.
“Mummy! Mummy!” A pretty little girl about 5 years old appears in the doorway.
How embarrassing is this? Thinks Ryan pulling a face, this explains the swing in the back garden.
“It’s OK Darling, Daddy still thinks he can tell me what to do, that’s all, go back to sleep.”
“DON’T BRING HER INTO THIS, HOW DARE YOU INVITE THESE PEOPLE BACK HERE? HOW DARE YOU?”
The others feel awful watching this family tragedy. It has an unreal quality to it as if Sarah and Rob will suddenly reveal that it’s all been an elaborate practical joke.
Rob looks at the others and says in a voice dripping with defeat and humiliation says “I think you’d better leave.”
Ryan, Mark and Helen clumsily grab their stuff and stumble out of the room. Mark keeps Rob where he can see him in case he cheap-shots him. They go downstairs leaving Sarah in the room with Rob.
“Text me, yeah?” Sarah shouts after Mark in an attempt to taunt Rob.
Mark doesn’t answer her. He opens the front door and they rush into the Arctic night air. Ryan takes a look at the living room before he closes the door. It should have been obvious that this was a family home. Pictures of the three of them hang on the wall and there is even a wedding photo. He feels bad. As they walk down the front garden path they can hear raised voices from inside. They briskly stroll away from the house cracking up in embarrassment.
“F**king hell, that was mental!” says Ryan laughing nervously.
He has his arm tightly around Helen’s waist as they try to retrace the route the cab took. The streets all looks the same.
“Did you give her some of your drugs?” asks Ryan.
“Clauserdrine?”
“Whatever it is, did you give her some of it?”
“Yeah chap, worked a treat!”
“How did you get it in the club?”
“In my shoe, they never look there!”
“Has it occurred to you that you’ve just caused a marriage break-up by drugging that woman?” says Helen angrily.
“Wait up, she said that he was her soon to be ex-husband, their marriage was already on the rocks!” snaps Mark.
“Well, you didn’t help things did you?” hisses Helen shaking her head.
“Whatever” says Mark shooting Ryan a ‘control your woman’ stare.
“Now what?” says Ryan changing the subject “How are we going to get back to the guest house?”
Mark smiles a winning smile and reaches in his wallet, producing the taxi firm card like a rabbit from a top hat.
“I’ll ring us a cab, hopefully it won’t be that old c**t again!”
“I hate that word” says Helen screwing her face up.
“And if you’re lucky" continues Mark “we’ll drop you off at your place, unless you’d prefer to walk that is?”
She pulls a face at him but doesn’t say anything more on the subject.
“Right, where the f**k are we and where the f**k are we going?” says Mark looking for a road sign.
“Hang on, the cab will take ages at this time of night, we don’t want to hang around here waiting for Sarah’s husband to track us down with a baseball bat” says Ryan looking over his shoulder at the thought.
“What do you suggest then chap?”
“Keep walking, find somewhere a bit warm and then ring a cab” he turns to Helen “Do you know where we are?”
“No idea” she says with the hump “I’m not from round here either!”

Chapter ten

“I’m freezing my f**king bollocks off!” hisses Fat Dave.
The same four taxi drivers leave and return. One cabbie is wearing a terrible Christmas jumper. One taxi is a minibus.
“That’s the one we really want” says Fat Dave stating the obvious.
“Glen? I need a piss” says Jason gingerly.
“You have my complete permission mate!” Laughs Glen.
“Er no, It’s just that I’m worried about getting attacked again, can you come with me?”
“He wants you to hold it for him!” shrieks Phil.
Glen chortles like an imbecile “Count me well out of that one!”
“Forget it” snaps Jason angrily walking away “Just forget it.”
“Wait, wait” shouts Glen after him “we were just messing about, come on Pilch, you’re coming too.”
Pilchard screws his face up in confusion “Eh?”
“I’m not taking on a gang of that geezer’s mates with only nervous Nellie there to back me up, so shift yourself!”
Pilchard trots after them “Oh o.k.”
Jason walks down an alleyway, takes a look around and is about to get his dick out when a young couple appear. He keeps walking down the alley leading to a large car park. There is a scrum of clubbers around a brightly lit Kebab van. He looks around for somewhere to empty his bursting bladder without being seen. Glen and Pilchard watch him with much amusement. Jason notices some large commercial dustbins behind the Kebab van and sneaks behind them. He sighs as he relieves himself certain that he would have pissed himself if made to wait any longer. As he walks back he notices a youth sitting on the kerb with his head in his hands. Jason feels sorry for the kid, he looks lost and vulnerable. As he passes by the youth looks up at him. Their eyes meet.
“YOU CHINKY C**T, YOU GOT ME THROWN OUT, YOU CHINKY twat!” screams the youth jumping to his feet.
Jason tries to run down the alley but the youth is too quick. He grabs Jason by the arm and throws him into the wall. He tries to cover up as the yob throws a volley of punches at him. The first wave of punches hit his arms but then a haymaker connects with his eye socket knocking him to the ground.
“NOT SO F**KING HARD NOW YOU HAVEN’T GOT YOUR MATES TO BACK YOU UP ARE YOU? YOU SLITTY EYED C**T!” spits the youth with pure hatred.
Jason fears the youth with kick him into a bloody mess, he desperately tries to cover himself up, bracing himself as the youth takes a step towards him.
“THIS WILL TEACH YOU, YOU F**KING CHINKY CU…AAAR!”
This sentence ends with the sound like he has been hit. Jason looks up to see his attacker being repeatedly punched by Glen.
“HAVE THAT YOU F**KING C**T” barks Glen as his powerful right arm connects again and again to the youths face sending him to the ground.
Jason is dazed by the blow to his eye. He is pulled to his feet by Pilchard.
“YOU ALLRIGHT MATE?” he asks holding Jason and inspecting his injuries.
The youth is now cowering and pleading for mercy. Pilchard turns to look at the youth, his face of concern turning to one of revenge, he rushes over and kicks him in the side as hard as possible. The youth screams out in agony.
Glen appears to pull Pilchard away but instead is moving him to the side so that he can also kick the youth. For what seems like an eternity the youth is brutally kicked until he is unconscious. Jason feels sick. He turns his head away in disgust. He’s grateful that they saved him but this bloke now looks dead, a hospital job at least. But the youth would have no doubt done the same think to him without their intervention. What caused all of this? Absolutely nothing. Glen and Pilchard walk back towards Jason. Both are shaking with adrenalin. This time Glen takes a look at Jason’s eye.
“You’re going to have a shiner tomorrow mate” he says “Can you see out of it at all?”
“Bit blurry” says Jason “Thanks for saving me, again!”
There are sudden footsteps, high heels travelling at speed accompanied by breathless puffing. The pretty but plump girl the youth was with in the toilet hobbles into view “REECE! REECE! WHAT HAVE THEY DONE TO YOU?”
She kneels next to his prone body and touches his face. She looks at the boys “YOU BASTARDS! YOU F**KING BASTARDS! YOU’RE DEAD, ALL OF YOU!”
Pilchard lunges towards her “HE SHOULDN’T HAVE F**KING STARTED ON OUR MATE YOU SLAG!”
Glen pulls him back and they walk quickly around the corner.
“Every time you go for a piss you get in trouble mate!” laughs Glen as they lead Jason back towards the taxi rank.
“You need a minder mate!” adds Pilchard.
“What happened?” says Phil looking at Jason’s eye.
“That same arsehole who tried to attack Jase in the club jumped him in the alley” says Pilchard “He landed him one in the eye before me and Glen got hold of the twat.”
“What did you do to him?” asks Marcus knowing the answer already.
“He got a bit of a shoeing” says Glen nonchalantly “He won’t do that again in a hurry.”
They all laugh. Crocket looks at them with a confused expression on his face. He’s able to stand but still in an alcohol induced trance. Marcus looks at the two bouncers supervising the taxi queue. Both heard the commotion in the alley but did nothing. They are nearly at the front of the queue.
“It’s freezing!” moans Marcus.
“Shut the f**k up!” Says Phil wearily.

Chapter eleven

Glen looks at the dried blood on his right hand, which is beginning to swell up. He notices that there are flecks of blood on his shirt. The minibus stops outside Mrs. Randall’s.
“Wake up ladies, we’re here!” he calls as the rest of them snap into consciousness with bewildered expressions on their faces.
Glen pays the cabbie and physically ejects most of the occupants from the minibus.
“Wake up you rubber head!” he says shoving Marcus out of the door by the scruff of his neck.
Marcus just manages to stop himself going over a wall.
Glen manhandles Crocket out of the van, holding him up by the arm. Crocket looks at him and giggles.
Jason rubs his eye, it really hurts. He thinks again of the horrific beating his attacker received and shudders. Violence solves nothing. Does anyone win? To have to resort to violence makes you as bad as the thug. Couldn’t they of restrained the youth like they did in the club? He knows that they only did that because they would have been thrown out by the bouncers. Remove that threat and it becomes a free for all. Glen and Pilchard looked like they were enjoying themselves as they kicked the crap out of that kid. He looked dead afterwards. What if he was?
“Right lets go back to the hotel and for f**k’s sake keep the noise down, if Mrs. Randall gives us the boot we’ll be kipping in this f**king van” says Glen wasting his breath.
They all walk around the corner resembling a party of primary school children on a disorganised field trip.
The guest house is in darkness. The only illumination is the ‘No vacancies’ sign. Glen gently slides the key into the lock and turns it hearing it click open. He slowly opens the door and fumbles for the light switch. A migraine inducing bright light illuminates the hallway and stairs.
Glen winces and turns to the others “Make sure you haven’t trod in any shit.”
Everyone checks their shoes leaning on the wall for balance. They begin the steep climb up to their rooms, Glen and Pilchard physically carrying Crocket. As they creep up the stairs trying not to breathe too loudly, they hear the front door slam shut so hard behind them that it’s a miracle that the glass didn’t break.
“Who f**king did that?” blasts Phil.
Mrs. Randall’s eyes open wide “Blardy drunks, piss out of their heads” she can hear raised voices and the sound of heavy footsteps running up the stairs. She turns on the bed side light and swings her legs out of bed.
“Am too old for this sheet” she says sliding her feet into a fluffy pair of pink slippers. If she had her way, she wouldn’t allow all male parties but stag parties simply generate too many bookings. Most don’t cause too many problems but there’s always something. She quickly puts on her dressing gown and unlocks the three bolts on her door. She charges into the hallway.
“What’s blardy going on?” she calls out angrily “You got no consideration for…” she stops as she realises that the hallway is completely empty. She spins around to look behind her, there’s no one there.
“No one speak” whispers Glen “and don’t turn on the light.”
In the confusion they all ran into Phil and Pilchard‘s room. Their drunken logic dictates that they must crouch down so that Mrs. Randall can’t see them through the closed door.
“Blardy not quick enough” she says to herself going back inside her room.
“I knows full well who dids this, Squares party. Will have it out with them in morning. No considerations for other guests, nice ballrooms dancing peoples. Will throw angry voice at them in morning. They will hear me!”
She takes her dressing gown off and gets back in bed.
“I knows who ringleader is” she hisses darkly turning out the light “Spasla mentra jeverladra!”
“I think she’s gone” says Glen with his ear on the door “right let’s retire quietly to our respective rooms.”
Marcus turns on the light. Everyone stands up except Crocket who is comatose on Jason’s sofa bed.
“F**k it, leave him there” says Pilchard “you’ll have to doss down in our room Jason.”
Jason grabs his bag and follows Glen and the brothers into the other room.
“They can have the smell of sick all night” whispers Pilchard unlocking the door to their room “Crocket is bound to spew his guts again!”
“I wonder where Ryan is?” says Fat Dave having a piss.
Marcus struggles to get up onto the top bunk “Don’t know, don’t care.”
Everyone has settled down when Glen’s mobile phone vibrates silently on the bedside cabinet.
“F**king hell!” he says reaching over to answer it.
“Yeah, ok, I’ll come down but keep f**king quiet!”
He pulls on his jeans and gingerly opens the door. He creeps into the hallway leaving the door to the room slightly ajar. Despite his tip toed efforts to keep noise to a minimum, every step of the stairs creaks loudly beneath his feet. He slowly opens the front door with his finger on his lips. Ryan and Mark stand frozen on the doorstep with stupid expressions on their faces. Glen looks behind them fully expecting them to have women with them. Relieved he ushers them through the door.
“What a night!” says Ryan in a stage whisper.
Glen smiles wearily “we’ve had quite a mad one ourselves, but tell me about it in the morning.”
They climb the creaky stairs; Glen convinced that Mrs. Randall will appear. Once outside their rooms Glen ushers Mark through the open door. He gently knocks on the other door.
“Don’t open it, it’s her!” whispers Fat Dave.
Glen knocks the door a bit louder, “Open up its Glen.”
“What did they say?” says Marcus disorientated.
Fat Dave sits up in bed “It sounds like Glen.”
Glen can hear heavy footsteps then a dopey sounding voice “Glen, is that you mate?”
Glen winces, these f**kers are going to wake Mrs. Randall with this bollocks “Yes, I’ve got Ryan here, open up!”
The door opens and Fat Dave stands there wearing nothing but an truly enormous pair of checked boxer shorts.
“No talking” says Glen shoving Ryan into the room and gently closing the door before one of them can slam it. He sneaks back into the other room and does the same.
Mark is having a piss in the bathroom, Glen stands outside the door. “Good night?”
“Magic chap, magic. Had a bit of bother though, we were taken back to this birds house but her husband and kid were there. Got a bit frantic but we got out without any bloodshed, well apart from Ryan’s fingers that is!”
“Eh?”
“He was fingering his one and she was on” Mark looks at Crocket’s bunk “I better not say too much, careless talk and all that.”
“That’s Jason, Crocket’s next door, it’s a long story, he got attacked twice by the same geezer, second time we gave the bastard a good kicking, anyway we can swap war stories in the morning, let’s turn it in.”
The bunk bed groans under their weight as they get climb into their bunks. The brothers Norris both snore tunelessly. F**king blue balls thinks Mark as he drifts off to sleep. Jason stares at the ceiling reliving his ordeal. He looked dead.

“Mark and I pulled these two birds and went back to one of their houses.”
“Did you f**k them?” says Fat Dave in the dark of the room.
“Mark did, I got a blow job!”
Marcus pretends to be asleep, insanely jealous.
“I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow, good night.”
“Night mate”.
Ryan lays down and immediately gets the room spins. Remembering an old trick he puts his foot on the floor and the room slowly stops rotating. He focuses on a fire warning sign on the bottom of Marcus’s mattress and eventually drops off to sleep.

Ryan wakes up hours later feeling extremely nauseous. He scrambles out of bed and is immediately brought to his knees by Marcus’s bag. Ryan crawls as fast as he can into the bathroom and lifts the lid of the toilet just in time. He takes a deep breath and pukes into the bowl feeling like he is about to die. He is sick again and flushes the toilet. He rests his head on the icy porcelain feeling immediately better. Pulling off a handful of toilet paper, he blows the vomit out of his nose. Pulling himself up he cleans his teeth and walks unsteadily back to his bed. His puking doesn’t appear to have woken the others who snore in drunken synchronicity. He thinks of Helen, what a great girl. Karen wouldn’t have sucked it. Hopefully he’ll get the chance to f**k her tomorrow. He drifts off to sleep fantasising wildly.

Chapter twelve

Geoff Wain sips his coffee and grimaces, its stone cold. His attention is taken by a commotion in the corner of the office by the kitchen. By the looks on their faces something bad has gone down. Geoff walks over to them,
“What’s up?”
PC Martindale turns round “Harry Clipstone’s son has been badly beaten up.”
“By us?”
“No, they don’t know who did it yet”
“How bad?”
“Hospital job, in a really bad way they say. He was found in an alley behind the Electric mile. His bird rang for an ambulance. She told the paramedics that he had an altercation with a group of lads in the club and then he got thrown out by the bouncers.”
Geoff scratches his head “The doormen at the Electric Mile are no saints but they should know better than to do this.”
“Apparently they are in the clear, his bird says they dragged him out but they didn’t give him a shoeing. She said that her and Reece had a blazing row, She stormed off and talked to her mates and when she went back she found him in the alley all beat up.You think Harry has put Oliver Hampton on the case?”
Geoff takes a sharp intake of breath “Definitely, Hampton has an edge on our type of enquiries because we can’t burn toes off with a blow torch to get information.”
“Is all that torture stuff really true?”
“Oh yes, make no mistake. Hampton is a throw back from the seventies. I’ve dealt with three cases where it’s been obvious that Hampton had used torture. You interview a wheelchair bound potential witness who is extremely reluctant to provide any information at all about Clipstone’s crew and the last thing they’d ever do is press charges because they know they’d end up in a pine box. The worst case we saw was Angie Took. She was the wife of John Took who had allegedly ripped off Clipstone. John Took had gone into hiding but Hampton got to his wife before she could also abscond. She wouldn’t give him up so Hampton knocked most of her teeth out, poured boiling water over her genitals but she still wouldn’t tell him. Hampton gouged out her left eye and was about to take her right eye when she told them where her husband was.”
“What happened to John Took?”
“Missing.”
“Did Angie Took press charges?”
“What do you think?”
“How can you be sure it was Hampton?”
“None of the Clipstone’s other crew are that sadistic. Hampton is in a class of his own.”
“Have you ever met him?”
Geoff nods “We raided one of Clipstone’s strip clubs once and nicked everyone, Hampton was one of them.”
“What’s he like?”
Geoff thinks for a moment “He gave me the creeps to be honest. The way he looks at you sends shivers down your spine and he’s a big, burly bloke. He is feared throughout the crime community; I’m convinced that the people who beat Reece Clipstone didn’t know who they were dealing with. I just hope these boys leave town before Hampton knocks their door” he tips the rest of his cold coffee into the sink “Were the blokes he had an altercation with in the club also thrown out?”
“She said she didn’t think so. All we know is that one of them was Oriental.”

Ryan flinches as a bright shaft of light coming through the curtains. He wonders for a second where he is and comes to the bitter realisation of his circumstances. He feels terribly, utterly hung over. He curses coming on this poxy trip, having said that he did get a blowjob last night. He is dehydrated and desperately needs a piss but feels too frail to get out of bed. He opens his eyes and the room comes into focus. He can see Fat Dave asleep in the double bed, his eyes hurt as he looks up at the weight of Marcus on the mattress above him. The room absolutely reeks of farts, bad booze breath and worse. Ryan slowly turns his head towards the sofa bed. He can see Jason’s arm hanging out of the duvet. But wait a second, the arm looks a little too pale to belong to Jason Lew? he closes his eyes and rolls over. His eyes open as wide as saucepan lids in disbelief. There is excrement on his pillowcase. He goes cold instantly reaching down the back of his boxer shorts. He can’t feel anything untoward. He looks at his hand, it’s clean. He jumps out of bed causing a violent wave of nausea. What the f**k is going on? How did that shit get on his pillowcase? He feels the anger build, some scumbag wiped their arse with his pillowcase, but who would do such an out of order thing? He looks back at the sofa bed and notices a circle burnt into the palm of the dangling hand. Now it makes sense, that arsehole Crocket did it in retaliation for Ryan seeing him puking up in the pub.
“What’s up?” says Marcus blearily.
Ryan looks at the prone figure of Crocket and goes over to Marcus whispering.
“Crockets in here!”
“Eh?”
“Crocket is in our room, that’s not Jason and he has f**king shit on my f**king pillow!”
“Jason shit on your pillow?”
“No Crocket, Crocket has shit on my pillow!”
Ryan holds up the evidence, Marcus screws his face up “That’s disgusting!”
“What’s going on?” says Fat Dave rubbing his eyes.
Ryan stops whispering “There is shit on my pillow, some animal has wiped their arse on my pillow case when I was asleep. Now I do not suspect for a second that the culprit is Marcus or you BUT we have an unexpected guest in the room, who isn’t Jase.”
“Who?” says Fat Dave trying to take it all in.
“Crocket, Crocket has WIPED his arse on my pillow case!”
A taunting voice emanates from under the duvet on the sofa bed “Sure it wasn’t you?”
“WHAT DID YOU SAY?” Yells Ryan spinning round causing another wave of nausea.
Crocket pokes his head out from the duvet “How do you know that it wasn’t you who shit the bed?“ he says as if Ryan was an idiot. Ryan feels so miserable that he makes the decision to go straight home on the train, he isn’t putting up with any more of this infantile crap. He’s had to put up with a lot of crap already now it’s got literal. Crocket looks well pleased with himself and looks at the others for approval. He’s out of luck. Marcus sits upright in bed and startles everyone in the room with a truly volcanic:
“WHO THE F**K ELSE WOULD DO IT TO HIM? ME AND DAVE HAVE KNOWN EACHOTHER FOR YEARS, WHO THE F**K ARE YOU? THE BRIDE’S BROTHER!? YOU‘VE BEEN HAVING A POP AT RYAN FOR THE WHOLE WEEKEND, ADMIT IT, YOU SHIT ON HIS PILLOW DIDN‘T YOU?”
Crocket is momentarily taken aback but soon regains his arrogance “F**k off” he sneers rolling over in bed as if they were beneath him. Ryan and Marcus shake their heads in disbelief.
Suddenly there is a knock on the door.
Ryan looks at Marcus “Shit, who’s that?”
“Could be Mrs. Randall” whispers Marcus.
A male voice comes through the door “Open up, it’s Phil.”
Ryan opens the door, Phil strides into the room aggressively.
“Keep it down in here will you, It’s seven thirty for f**ks sake, you’ll get us kicked out of here!”
“Get this” says Ryan “In the middle of the night Crocket wiped shit on my pillow case!”
Crocket sits up in bed revealing a small tribal tattoo on his right bicep “I didn’t even know what room I was in until I woke up just then” he says pleadingly.
Phil gives them his trademark stare and points at Crocket “You, grab that duvet and pillow and come with me.”
Crocket reluctantly gets out of bed, collects his gear and follows Phil out of the room. They can hear raised voices in the other room then a fragile looking Jason enters the room sporting a nasty looking black eye.
Ryan is shocked.
“F**king hell, Jase, What happened to your eye?”
Jason climbs into bed and covers himself with the duvet “It’s a long story.”
Phil sticks his head back into the room.
“keep it down O.K? And wash that f**king pillow case. What would Mrs. Randall say if she saw it? Be down for breakfast at half eight sharp” Phil disappears and closes the door.
Ryan turns to Marcus “Did he have a spunking cock drawn on his forehead in marker pen?”
“Yeah, I think he did!”

Chapter thirteen

“Did you see how Horney that ginger bird who asked me for a dance was last night?” brags Phil oblivious to the fact that he still has an ejaculating penis drawn on his forehead in marker pen.
“That cost Dave ten quid!” says Marcus watching Phil’s cocky expression fade.
“Bollocks, you didn’t did you Dave?”
Fat Dave squirms, eyeing Marcus with distain “He’s making it up mate!”
“You’d have got a blowjob as well but she was insulted by Dave’s offer of fifty quid!” continues Marcus with a shit eating grin on his face.
“Or it could have been the fact that she wasn’t a whore” adds Jason softly.
Mrs. Randall eyes the dishevelled looking bunch sitting in her breakfast/bar area with great suspicion. She knows it was them that caused all the commotion in the middle of the night. She fully expects to find damage to their rooms when she changes the towels today. Bloody drunks.
“I don’t know if I can stomach a fry up after last night’s session” says Phil mournfully, rubbing his eyes.
“Rubbish” says Glen clapping his hands together “This’ll set you up nicely, can’t beat a bucket of grease, although I feel fine, I haven‘t even got a hangover!”
They look at his smug ‘bertie big bollocks’ expression but his bloodshot eyes tell a different story.
“O.K before my Julie’s informant Crocket comes down, let’s hear about last night” says Phil wanting to get it out of the way more than anything.
Pilchard looks confused “Why can’t we talk about what Ryan did in front of Crocket?”
“Use your loaf” Spits Marcus “There’s an audit trail to his Karen. Crocket is an answering machine for his sister, who is mates with Ryan’s Karen.”
Pilchard nods “Yeah, didn’t think of that”.
Ryan feels a huge pang of guilt. Ideally he didn’t want anyone to know but at the same time he‘s done a lot better than the rest of these chumps. He sees all eyes on him and begins.

“Lota blardy noise last night” says Mrs. Randall as she brings a plate of toast to the guests at the next table to the yobs “Someone make racket, no consideration to other guests!”
She looks over at them with disgust as they erupt into laughter as one boy tells some bullshit in a loud voice, she knows that she will have to say something soon. She has standards to maintain. She scuttles off into the kitchen to get their breakfast rehearsing what she will say to them.
She brings out the first three plates and practically drops them on to the table. The boys don’t even seem notice as they continue to listen to Ryan’s story. She has a face like thunder.
“Oh shit I’ve got mushrooms on my plate” says Mark “I asked her not to put mushrooms on mine.”
“What have you got against mushrooms?” asks Glen.
“They smell of spunk” says Mark pulling a face.
Marcus holds his plate out “I’ll have your mushrooms.”
“Marcus loves the taste of spunk!” shouts Phil.
“Cheers chap” says Mark scraping the offending mushrooms onto Vellecots plate “But I can’t even stand to see the juice from them that left”.
Mrs. Randall brings out the rest of the plates and drops them in front of them with the same distain. She turns to go back into the kitchen but can’t hold her tongue any longer. She turns around and let’s them have it;
“I am seek of you lot with your dirty talk, carming in all hours banging door, being blardy nuisance.”
The boys are stunned into silence. Pilchard is the first to speak.
“We didn’t come in late or bang your door” he says innocently sounding pretty convincing.
“Yeah?” she says putting her face an inch away from Pilchard’s “That’s what you blardy say, but it don’t mean you don’t tell me rubbish.”
Phil feels miserable, he knows that there is going to be an argument and that they are going to be thrown out.
“It wasn’t us!” says Marcus angrily “Did you SEE us coming in or are you just ASSUMING it was us because we’re an all male party?”
Her blood boils, spasla mentra jeverladra. She feels like smacking his face for him.
“I knows it was you making all the noise last night, I knows it”
Suddenly a plumy female voice from a table in the corner of the room gets everyone’s attention.
“Mrs. Randall, my husband wishes to tell you something.”
Everyone looks over at the smartly dressed middle aged couple in the corner. The male is puce with embarrassment. He takes a deep breath and lifts his head to face the prying eyes of everyone in the breakfast room.
“I feel that you are wrongly accusing those gentlemen” he says meekly in a clipped voice.
The boys look over in amazement. Mrs. Randall looks like she’s seen a ghost.
“Last night my wife and I attended a dinner for the judges of the ballroom dancing competition. I’m ashamed to admit that I got a little tipsy and I accidentally slammed the front door, so I am the culprit, not those gentleman. If there is any damage please put it on my bill.”
Mrs. Randall can’t believe what she’s hearing her throat makes a series of noises but cannot speak, her finger is still pointing at Marcus, she slowly drops her arm and turns to face the boys. They look back at her smugly.
“Ok, maybe not you with the door” she says quietly by way of an apology “but you still better keep language clean, I got nice guests to think of” she says before rushing back into the kitchen.
Pilchard turns to the toffs who got them out of the shit “Thanks mate, for clearing that up, if you’re in the bar later we’ll buy you a drink.”
The toff nods back to the boys, his face still bright red.
Crocket slouches into the breakfast room looking green. He sees the boys and his gait changes into a cocky bowl.
“Sit down Davey crocket” says Glen “You’ll feel better after a nice fry up!”
“I feel fine” spits Crocket desperate to maintain the invincible image.
“Crocket, Can I ask you a question?” says Pilchard with a mischievous look on his face “Do you know the difference between toilet paper and a pillowcase?"
Phil shoots his brother a fierce look of disapproval; he wants to forget all about this contentious issue. There was enough talk about this in their room earlier, now his idiot brother has to bring it up again.
Crocket rubs his red eyes and looks at Ryan tauntingly “Weren’t me, someone must have had an accident.”
“I didn’t shit the bed!” says Ryan exasperated.
Pilchard and Crocket fall about laughing; Mrs. Randall can be seen glaring at them through the window in the kitchen door.
“I’ve got a question” says Crocket wincing as he feels his stomach, he eyes the rest of the table suspiciously, “Who punched me in the gut last night?”

Chapter fourteen

Harry Clipstone takes a drag on his roll up cigarette; he looks around conspiratorially “Oliver, I’ve never wanted someone dead as much as I do now. Reece is in a right state, fractured skull, in a coma, they said…” his voice quivers and he looks away “That he might not walk again, he might never speak again. Oliver I want you to get the f**ker that did this and they’ve got to end up dead, whatever it takes.”
Oliver Hampton looks at an ambulance pulling up outside the casualty department, “I’ve put the word out but my gut reaction is that we’re dealing with an unknown entity; I don’t think they knew who they were messing with. No one who knows you would have done this because they know what would happen. I’ll find them, you have my word Harry.”
Clipstone pats him on the back and walks back inside the hospital.

“She does a good breakfast” says Phil laying his cutlery on his empty plate “That was lovely.”
“Phil mate” says Glen looking furtively at the others “I’ve left my jacket in the van; you couldn’t go and get it for us could you?”
Phil looks at him puzzled “Eh?”
“I’d get it myself but I’m still eating, Pilchard have you got the keys on you?”
“I’ll go and have a look for you in a minute” says Pilchard extracting the keys from his pocket.
“No” says Glen winking at Pilchard “Give the keys to Phil, you’re still drinking your coffee, Phil doesn’t mind going do you? “
“What’s going on here?” says Phil smelling a rat.
“Nothing mate” says Glen pleadingly “Nothing at all, I just need me jacket that’s all.”
Phil stands up and takes the keys from Pilchard “What colour is your jacket? “
“Er, Brown leather, it’s in the back of the van”.
Phil turns to leave then pauses for a second; he turns back to the group. He can guess that they are planning something but it doesn’t mean he’ll go along with it. He walks out of the breakfast room looking defiant.
Glen hears the door shut and looks confidentially at the others “Right, we need to plan what we’re going to get for Phil; I’m talking about a stripper. He’ll be back in a minute, especially as I don’t own a brown leather jacket! So let’s hear some suggestions?”
Glen looks at the blank faces and knows that it’s going to ultimately be down to him.
“We could go to a strip club?” says Mark with his mouth full.
“Yeah, we could go to a strip club” echoes Pilchard.
Glen shakes his head “We’ll do that as well but I’m thinking more along the lines of arranging for a really filthy one to..” he checks that Mrs. Randall is out of earshot “..to come here”.
“What like a prostitute?” says Crocket wondering what his sister would say about this?
“No, not a prostitute but a stripper that would do more than you would get in a strip club.”
They all nod in agreement.
Ryan looks over his shoulder and watches Mrs. Randall disappear into the kitchen “How are we going to get her in here?”
“We’ll think of something, right, I’ll get the local phone book” says Glen walking swiftly into the reception area. He returns with a battered copy of the local paper. He opens the classified section, clears a space and lays the newspaper on the table.
“Do we get him a nice one or a gross-a-gram or something like that?” asks Pilchard sounding dopey as usual.
“A nice one of course” says Marcus “If we’ve got to watch, we don’t want to see a granny in suspenders or something f**ked up like that!”
Glen winces rolling his eyes “Keep your voice down, there’s a good boy.”
They crowd around the paper.
“Here’s one” says Ryan “Treat yourself to a sensual massage…Blah blah blah bound to be on the game!”
“Or a real masseuse” adds Jason.
“It must be a bastard if you were a genuine masseuse because your ad would be among the ones offering hand-jobs. It would lead to a lot of misunderstandings!” laughs Ryan.
“What about this one?” says Fat Dave jabbing a sausage-like finger at an advert. “Private dancer, enjoy the thrill of a gentleman’s club in the privacy of your own home.”
“Yeah, that sounds like a possible, No price though” says Glen rising from the table, “What‘s our top price for this?"
Most have no idea how much it would cost. Ryan feels uncomfortable; he doesn’t want to blow a load of money on this. .
Pilchard is the first to speak “70 quid?”
“70 quid?” coughs Ryan in a voice so high pitched it’s barely audible.
“Yeah, but that’s nothing between eight of us, I’ll give them a buzz” says Glen walking swiftly out of the breakfast room.
He runs up the stairs, the motion making him nauseas.
...

“I really feel like shit” says Fat Dave screwing up his face.
“You look like shit” snaps Marcus.
Mrs. Randall struts over to their table “You lot finished?” the clear message being that she wants them out of her sight.
“No, we haven’t finished” says Mark pointing to Crocket “our friend here would like a full English breakfast if it’s not too much trouble.”
She gives them a truly spectacular dirty look then retreats to the kitchen muttering.
Fat Dave looks at Jason‘s black bloodshot eye “How does your eye feel now, Jase?”
“Hurts but I’ll live!”
Dave laughs “I hope that bloke had washed his hands before hitting you, think of the germs!”
“We taught the arsehole that did it a lesson sure enough” says Pilchard proudly.
Mark smiles back at Pilchard as if he wishes he’d been there to join in.
Jason bristles with rage, before he can think he blurts out “He looked dead afterwards, my attacker. He was punched and kicked until he was unconscious on the ground. He looked dead to me.”
Pilchard can’t believe what this ungrateful bastard has just said “Would you sooner of us just let him punch seven bells of shit out of you then?”
Jason regrets opening his mouth; he knew that they couldn’t possibly understand that they had done anything wrong.
“Don’t get me wrong Paul, I’m very grateful that you intervened, all I’m saying is was it really necessary to continue beating him when he was clearly no longer a threat?”
Pilchard looks around the table exasperated. Jason knows that this protest will be relayed to the others and he will be made a scapegoat despite being right to have found their bloodlust disgusting. An awkward silence prevails. Suddenly Phil rushes back into the room out of breath, his face animated by acute agitation.
“THE VAN, THE VAN’S GONE!”
“You’re joking” says Ryan laughing nervously.
“I’M NOT F**KING JOKING! HOW ARE WE GOING TO GET HOME?”
“HEY, I TOLD YOU NO WITH THE BAD LANGUAGE!” shouts Mrs. Randall wiping an empty table.
“SHIT!” says Marcus ignoring her.
Phil looks at his brother with lethal daggers “ARE YOU SURE YOU LOCKED IT?”
“I BLOODY DID LOCK IT!” bristles Pilchard “I’M NOT TAKING THE BLAME FOR THIS!”
“Well it wouldn’t surprise me at all if you left it open and that’s why it’s been nicked!”
Pilchard rises to his feet aggressively “I DID LOCK THE VAN!”
“Hang on, hang on” says Jason pleadingly “It might not have been stolen, it might have been towed, maybe it was illegally parked?”
“If that’s happened I suppose I’ll get the blame for that as well!” says Pilchard sarcastically.
Glen re-enters the room “What’s going on?”
“The Van!” says Phil eyes blazing.
“What about it?”
“SOME C**T HAS NICKED IT!”
“HEY, BLARDY LANGUAGE!”
Glen turns on his heals and they all follow him out of the guest house. It is a grey miserable day. The black clouds look about to burst. Phil takes the lead and they follow him around the corner, all are running as if speed will change anything. Phil runs up the alley where the van was taken from.
“Wait a minute, wait a minute!” shouts Glen “That aint the right alley! The van is parked in that alley there.”
Phil is totally confused “No, it was in this one!”
They follow Glen down the adjacent alley. Their light blue mini-bus is where they left it.
“You scared the f**k out of us you idiot!” says Pilchard touching the van to make sure it isn’t an illusion.
“Sorry guys.” says Phil feeling completely stupid.
“You f**king idiot!” snaps Marcus.
“Kiss my arse!” shouts Phil fighting back “it was an easy mistake to make, there’s f**king loads of f**king alleys round here. Do you want your jacket Glen?”
“Er no” Says Glen unconvincingly “It’s all right mate, Right let’s go back to the guest house.”
They slowly make their way back to ‘New roses feeling relieved.
Pilchard walks with Glen “Did you arrange the stripper?” he asks confidentially looking over his shoulder at Phil.
“Yeah, all sorted” laughs Glen.

They file into the guest house.
“Right” says Fat Dave “What’s the plan for the rest of the day?”
Glen claps his hands together in his usual manner and smiles “I suggest that we get pissed and have a laugh?”
“So, what’s the plan then?” says Pilchard.
“I reckon that we head into town in forty-five minutes time?”
“Sounds like a plan Chap” says Mark.
Ryan rises to his feet “Give us the key to our room, that greasy breakfast has got me shite on the move”.
“Question is, chap” says Mark mischievously “Do YOU know the difference between toilet paper and a pillowcase?”

Chapter fifteen

“I had a ring of matted hair around my cock this morning” Says Mark proudly “It looked like an onion ring!"
Glen chortles turning to look at Mark who is sitting on the double bed.
“She were an energetic shag, lovely body, bit old but definitely had experience like. Ryan thought I’d given her a date rape pill. I gave her a Clauserdrine, didn’t spike her drink or nothing. I asked her if she wanted one and she said yes. It was f**king awkward when her husband walked in on us, I thought he was going to start on me but he were more heartbroken than angry. If a woman did that to me I’d kill her!”
Phil can’t believe this “Double standard anyone?”
Crocket smirks “So Ryan went back to this bird’s house as well?”
“Yeah he was…“ Mark stops suddenly realising that Crocket will tell his sister if he reveals the truth “…well he’d had enough of the Electric Mile and I was leaving so he came with”.
“So while you were upstairs with this bird Ryan was waiting for you downstairs?”
“That’s right chap and I ended up with an onion ring round the base of me knob, in fact I saved it to show you.“ Mark mimes pulling it out of his pocket and throwing it at Crocket who flinches and ducks much to the amusement of the others.
Next door Marcus is trying to make his point.
“Seriously boys, I can’t wait to go home. I hate the stag do mentality, all we’re going to do today is drink, we may as well have stayed home and spent two days in our local boozer. And how the f**k are we going to smuggle a stripper in here? It just aint going to happen. The old girl watches us like a hawk”.
Jason inspects his eye in the mirror “I agree, it’s not going to be easy to get past Mrs. Randall.”
“It will be all right” Says Marcus exasperated at their pessimism “We’ll distract her somehow.”
“You’re the perfect man for the job” says Fat Dave “she hates you the most, with all that spasla sposhla shit. We can watch the stripper while she’s chasing you up and down the street with a f**king great knife!”
“Very funny you fat lump!”
Marcus feels his pocket vibrate and pulls his phone out; he looks at the message, shrugs and hands the phone to Ryan looking nonplussed. Ryan feels an explosion of excitement in the pit of his stomach.
Last night was crazy! Sorry for being so cheap! LOL Want to do something l8r?
“You’re not texting her back are you?” sulks Marcus exasperated.
“What do you think?”
There is a knock on the door.
“You ladies ready?” shouts Pilchard “the first cab is here!”
Chapter sixteen

“You know organ donors? Do you think reckon if you lost your cock in an industrial accident, they could give you another one from a donor?” says Vellacott.
“Probably, but it would feel like you were wanking someone else off” replies Ryan “I was reading about a bloke that lost his hand and they grafted a woman’s hand on but every time he went for a piss it wouldn’t let go!”
The cab pulls up in the centre of town. It is starting to lightly rain. Marcus gets out of the taxi without any attempt to offer to pay.
“I’ll get it” Says Jason giving the cabbie a ten pound note.
“OK, I’ll get it on the way back” says Fat Dave putting his wallet away.
“I reckon Vellacott should pay on the way back” says Ryan raising his eyebrows.
They get out of the cab and follow Marcus into the chain pub they went into the night before. It smells of B.O, spilt beer and shit.
“Oi, oi” shouts Mark from the bar.
Crocket eyes them with distain.
Fat Dave is sitting quietly in the corner. He is on the phone to his wife; she is clearly giving him shit. He is trying to get a word in edgeways. He is pleading with her while reading a lad’s magazine.
“No…I never said that babe…..No I didn’t mean to upset you…..LOOK I’M BUSTING TO GO TO THE TOILET, I’VE GOT TO GO….No…Why would you think that?…I never said that babe” and so it goes on.
He waves Ryan over, he turns to a photo of a large breasted young blonde.
“Yeah babe…I’m sorry… you’ve got it all wrong..”
Ryan knows what’s coming next. Fat Dave covers the mouthpiece with his hand and begins his usual transformation. He begins to rock, the shoulders become tense, the face starts twitching and he looks at the photo while nodding aggressively in pre-attack mode. He looks at Ryan in disbelief as if he cannot control himself any longer then lets fly with a series of blows and rips aimed at the magazine.
“YOU F**KING WHORE!” he seethes his huge clenched teeth making him really look like a chimp defending his territory. Everyone turns to look at the commotion he is causing.
Suddenly his face changes to a look of horror.
“No babe…I didn’t call YOU a whore!…No babe”
“It’s ‘B’ you thick f**k!” says Phil to his brother angrily as they crowd around the quiz machine “Every time we play one of these machines you always jab away at the screen getting the answer wrong, you never confer.”
“This one is definitely ‘C’” shouts Pilchard eyes bulging.
“Glen?”
“Er, Don’t know mate”
“It’s definitely ‘C’!” says Pilchard about to press the screen.
Phil pushes Pilchard‘s hand away “Wait!”
“Look we’ve timed out now!” yells Pilchard.
“What do you want to drink?” says Ryan “It’s Marcus’s round.”
Marcus glares at him “No it aint!”
Glen turns around “We’ve got a whip, tenner for starters, I’m holding it”
“Hey Chap, Me and Ryan should be entitled to a refund as we didn’t get our share last night!” says Mark smiling.
Ryan likes the sound of this “That’s a good point actually.”
“It don’t work like that” shouts Pilchard feeding the quiz machine “It was your choice to leave early with those two slags!”
Phil gives him a little push, his eyes instructing Pilchard to shut the f**k up. This information is not lost on Crocket, so there were two girls at that house, were there? He knew that Ryan had been up to something. He smiles to himself. Ryan feels worried sick, he knows that Crocket has put two and two together. He feels completely and utterly miserable. He wishes that the van had been stolen. It would have been a good excuse to have gone home early. He looks at Crocket who is sneering at him, how long will it be before he tells his sister? Ryan’s fear turns to anger, he’s going to get Crocket back for all the arsehole things he’s done. What can he do to limit the damage? Deny everything. He can explain that Crocket is a liar who had it in for him.
“So you had some last night did you Ryan?” sneers Crocket his face full of spite.
Ryan feels a wave of nausea and rage, he turns to the others his mind racing. What can he say to cover this up to save what he has with Karen? He turns to Phil but Phil is already in control of the situation.
“WHAT HAPPENS IN BLACKPOOL STAYS IN BLACKPOOL, ALLRIGHT CROCKET? I DON‘T WANT YOU TITTY TATLING TO MY SISTER ABOUT HERESAY THAT COULD CAUSE A LOT OF SHIT FOR PEOPLE, ALLRIGHT?”
Crocket looks genuinely surprised at this outburst.
“F**king hell Phil, I aint going to say a word to Julie, I was just curious that’s all” He turns to Ryan “I aint a f**king grass mate, all right?”
Ryan feels suspicious relief. Is this just for show or will Crocket really keep his mouth shut? He can only take it on face value. “Ok but I didn’t do anything anyway” he stammers unconvincingly.
Ryan feels his mobile phone vibrating in his pocket. He walks away from the group and looks at the screen ‘Home’ is calling. He answers it feeling worried.
“Hello darling, what should I do?”
“I don’t follow?”
“Should I tell them at work about Sam?”
Ryan wishes he hadn’t told her “Hang on, you’re thinking of using this information to try to get Sam sacked?”
“It had crossed my mind”
“If you’ve got any sense you’ll say nothing, they won’t believe you, Sam will deny everything and you’ll be branded a liar. By the sound of it she’s becoming increasingly f**ked up on drugs and it won’t be long before she goes down in flames anyway.”
“You’re right, I won’t say anything but I’d love to. How’s it going?”
“It sucks” whispers Ryan heading towards the door “Julie’s f**king brother wiped his arse on my pillowcase last night!”
Ryan is confident that she won’t like this news at all, that she will be very angry with Crocket. Instead all he can hear is hysterical laughter.
“It’s not f**king funny!” he says bracing himself against the cold outside.
“You’re kidding right?”
“No, straight up, he denies it but we all know that he did it the nasty little bastard!”
“That’s minging actually, why did he do it?”
“Because I caught him puking up in the bogs and in his tiny mind I needed punishment for that because he thinks I told everyone when I didn’t. Joke of the matter is that he ended up completely out of it anyway. I hate him, he’s poison, a right snidey little f**ker. He’s been having a right go at me and Marcus since we met him, OH YEAH I nearly forgot! He tried to punch Marcus on the way up here yesterday!”
“Well, Marcus does antagonise people, Hey Julie came round drunk last night, worried sick about Phil having a lap dance.”
“Wow, the end of the world! Silly f**king IBS cow! We’re going to make sure that he has the weekend of his life because when he’s married to that miserable cow his life is over!”
“She’s not miserable!”
“She f**king well is, always moaning, bragging, moaning, bragging”
“She’s one of my oldest friends.”
“And she gets on your nerves, I don’t understand birds, they always have one mate that they don’t actually like. If I had a mate like her, I wouldn’t socialise with the f**ker!”
“You can talk about having dodgy mates, Example one: Marcus f**king Vellacott.”
“That’s the difference between male and female friendships: Women don’t know why they are friends with a certain person and they also can’t understand why their bloke’s are friends with certain people. But male friendship is genuine. At least me and him always have a laugh, what fun do you get out Julie?”
“She’s O.k. don’t be mean and don’t tell Phil she came round in a state, she swore me to secrecy, O.K?”
“O.K, I won’t say anything.”
“She’s also worried that her dress won’t fit so she’s joined a slimming club!”
“Women and their f**king diets! If a bloke wants to lose a bit of weight he just gets on with it but with a woman she has to join a slimming club and do the whole group support thing. ‘Well done Jayne, you’ve lost a pound’ and they all f**king clap, you wouldn’t get a bloke bothering with that shit! And the f**king wedding is next week, how much can she lose in that time?”
“Oh I nearly forgot” She says her voice going up an octave “Mum’s invited us out to dinner!”
“WHAT?” spits Ryan resenting the upbeat manner in which this bad news was delivered “Where?”
“The Fisherman’s rest!” she chirps as if she’s telling him that they’ve come into a vast amount of money.
“I hate the f**king Fisherman’s rest! There’s always something wrong with the order then that’s all your mother talks about for the rest of the night, is your sister coming?”
“Yes” replies Karen exasperated at his attitude.
“Great, that means they’ll embarrass us by arguing like they ALWAYS do EVERYTIME we go out.”
Karen knows that every word of this is true but Mum will be upset if they don‘t end up going “It’ll be nice” she says trying to remain positive about it all “We haven’t been out to dinner with them for a while now.”
“For a while? It was only two weeks ago! and that was at the f**king fisherman’s rest! Don’t you remember what happened? Your sister freaked out because your dad was sitting on her coat. She started screaming at the top of her lungs at him, everyone was looking, it was so embarrassing. Then your mother sent her steak back twice because it wasn’t cooked enough and moaned about it for the rest of the night! F**king hell, why would you want to put us through all that again?”
This protest is met by stony silence. She is furious that he can’t just go along with their plans. Her family are embarrassing but they are still her family. Ryan feels torn between not being a pushover and not being Bertie big bollocks.
“Can’t you co-operate for once?” She says, her voice full of menace.
“I co-operate a lot more than a lot of blokes would, I tolerate your family because I love you. A lot of blokes would have told your mum and sister where to go a long time ago but I wouldn’t do that to you. You’ve got to see it from my perspective, don’t make me sit in restaurants with them every two weeks”
“But I’ve told Mum we would go” Pleads Karen softening to his pleas.
Phil taps Mark on the shoulder “Looks like Ryan is getting the same sort of grief you usually get on the phone!”
“I wouldn’t stand for that shit off of a woman” Scoffs Crocket puffing his chest out.
Glen looks at him amused “Course you wouldn’t, you’re Davy Crocket the brave aint you mate?”
Crocket chooses not to continue boasting; he sips his double vodka and watches Ryan walking back inside looking harassed. Marcus and Phil are about to play pool, the rest of the lads watch without much enthusiasm.
“Give you grief did she?” mocks Marcus placing the balls in the triangle on the table.
“Yeah” says Ryan trying to find his pint. He hears snooker balls smashing together behind him.
“Ha, call that a break! That’s piss poor!” Goads Marcus.
“Kiss my arse you bent poof, I’m scared to bend over near you that’s why I messed up the break!”
“You’d like me to be ‘one of them’, you’ve always fancied me aint you? That’s why you invited me on your stag do, you were hoping to have a homosexual liaison with me, well forget it, you’ll have to make do with Pilchard like normal!”
Phil pokes Marcus with the pool cue “You can talk, look at your gay male model clothes mate!”
“Hey Phil, we can do it in the ‘Y’ position tonight can’t we bruv?” shouts Pilchard pilling a face.
Phil is pleased that everyone is enjoying themselves, he looks at Glen and Mark killing themselves laughing, Fat Dave and Pilchard chortle away in the corner. Phil turns to Jason Lew and immediately stops laughing. Jason looks like he’s about to explode. His eyes are absolutely blazing with anger.
“Jase, what’s the matter?” asks Phil deeply concerned.
“Ryan, what did your bird want anyway?” shouts Marcus
Jason takes a deep breath and says softly “I’m ‘one of them.’”
“I’ve got to go out with her f**king family next week” replies Ryan.
“Shit Jason” says Phil really embarrassed “I’m sorry we was using that sort of talk, if we’d have known we wouldn’t have done it.”
Jason gives him daggers “That makes it o.k. then does it?”
Everyone is stunned into silence except Ryan and Marcus who remain completely oblivious.
“You should have told her you weren’t going mate” says Marcus indignantly “Come on Phil you little gay boy, it’s your shot!”
“MARCUS!” shouts Phil enraged “Didn’t you hear what Jason just said?”
Vellacott looks at Phil like he’s insane “No, why? What the f**k is going on?”
Jason feels a mixture of anxiety and relief “I’m gay”.
An awkward silence prevails. Ryan looks at the faces of the others, it’s not hard to spot the homophobes amongst them. Glen, Pilchard and Crocket look absolutely appalled at this revelation. Jason wishes someone would say something, anything to stop this awful silence. Ryan feels like he’s going to die of embarrassment.
“Right” says Phil loudly “It’s my shot.”
Jason feels annoyed that this issue has obviously been brushed aside but what was he expecting? This is a macho beat strangers to a pulp stag do, no place for sensitivity and respect. He can feel their eyes on him.
“HA! Two shots to me!” goads Marcus “You little…” he pauses censoring himself “prick!”
Phil rests his cue on the wall “I need a piss” he says walking away.
Glen watches Phil disappearing towards the gents; he makes a beckoning motion to the others.
“Right, very quickly, gather around before Phil gets back. The stripper will come to the guesthouse at four this afternoon and she’ll do her thing in one of the rooms. So we’ve got to make sure we’re back there just before four o.k.?”
They all nod obediently apart from Ryan who screws up his face “I really don’t know how we’re going to get her past the old bag?”
Glen pulls an irritated grimace “We’ll think of something.”
“What are you wankers chatting about?” shouts Phil as he leaves the toilet.
“Just deciding where to go next mate” replies Pilchard unconvincingly.
“I’ve got a fantastic idea!” says Glen clapping his hands “Let’s go to a casino!”
Ryan shakes his head “Oh no, no f**king way, count me right out of that”
“Why?” says Crocket his face full of scorn.
“Because it’s a mugs game, before you know it you’ve lost a shit load of money.”
The others look at him like he’s a whining spoilsport.
We could go to the casino” says Fat Dave communicating a hidden agenda with his eyebrows “but we’re not dressed for it, we would need to go back to the guesthouse and get changed first.”
“Yeah” says Glen realising that this is the perfect ruse to keep their appointment with the stripper. “We’ll do something else next, and then go back and get changed and go to the casino.”
“I’m not going” says Ryan petulantly.
“Oh f**k off!” hisses Crocket.
“I know what we can do!” Says Ryan ignoring him “We could recreate the thrills we had in Yarmouth by finding a bingo hall!”
Phil screws his face up “Bollocks!”
“What was your bird giving you grief about?” says Marcus following Ryan over to some stools in front of the bar.
“She’s arranged for me to go to the f**king Fisherman’s rest with her f**king family next week!”
“Again?”
“That’s what I said. Really something to look forward to that: I can’t wait to sit on a table full of freaks in public! Her Dad not realising that the waitress is asking him what he wants to order then not realising when they are bringing his food then not realising when they want to clear his plate then not realising that they are asking him if he wants dessert then not realising when they bring his dessert then not realising that....you get the picture. Why do I have to f**king be put through an ordeal?” he looks over his shoulder at the others and lowers his voice “This stag do f**king sucks, I’m having a shit time but I couldn’t get out of it, like I can’t get out of going to the f**king Fisherman’s rest next week. That’s life: A series of things you can’t get out of that you know will f**king suck. I’m going for a piss."
Ryan walks angrily away and disappears into the gents. He is shocked to discover that Fat Dave is breaking the first rule of urinal etiquette. There are three urinals and he is using the middle one.
“What the f**k are you playing at Dave?” barks Ryan like a drill instructor.
Fat Dave jumps out of his skin.
“What do you mean?” he asks looking over his shoulder.
“You only use the middle urinal when the ones either side are being used, otherwise it’s awkward.” Ryan proves the point by cramming himself next to him.
“See” says Ryan barging recklessly into him “This aint cool is it?”
Ryan regrets standing so close to Fat Dave as he smells like a wet dogs arsehole.
“Stop it man, I’m pissing on the floor and probably on your foot too!” says Fat Dave.
“There’s only one thing worse than using the middle urinal” says Ryan shaking his head in disbelief that anyone would dream of doing the thing he is about to describe “And that is backslapping.”
“Backslapping?”
“Yeah, you are having a piss and someone slaps you on the back, you know, not trying to push you into the trough just being friendly.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“What’s wrong with that? NO MAN SHOULD TOUCH ANOTHER WHEN ONE OF THEM HAS HIS COCK OUT!”
“Who does that?”
“Some prick at work, whenever I piss next to him he always has to pat me on the shoulder as he leaves, IT’S F**KED UP!” he looks at Fat Dave looking concerned “You going to be O.K when the stripper turns up later?”
“I don’t follow?”
“Well, you know that thing you do where you destroy saucy pictures?”
“Eh? What the f**k are you talking about?”
“The ‘look at this picture of a bird with them out, AARRRRR! F**king whore!’ thing or maybe you’re so nutty that you don’t know you’re doing it. Either way try not to attack the stripper later O.K?” he slaps Dave on the back for good measure and walks out laughing.
“Hey!” whispers Fat Dave “How about Jason being a poof?”


Chapter seventeen

The lights of the Pleasure beach blaze away even though it’s broad daylight. Hordes of bickering families obstruct the boys as they make their way through the drizzle to the dodgems.
“I don’t know why they call them dodgems?” says Ryan as they approach the ticket booth “No one actually dodges each other, they should call it ’f**kems’ instead!”
“How many tokens shall we get?” shouts Glen rummaging around in his pocket.
Pilchard shrugs his shoulders “Dunno? Have two goes each?”
They buy their tokens and watch the cars collide waiting for the carnage to end. Marcus looks over his shoulder at the others then turns to Ryan conspiratorially “Who shall we get?”
Ryan screws his face into a scowl “Crocket, big time, little piece of shit needs some pain.”
Marcus nods his approval “Who else?”
“You pick”
“You?”
“Very funny, who else?”
“Take your pick really. Only because of the wedding but the only person I’d feel bad f**king up would be Kiss my arse even though he deserves it, the uptight arsehole!”
“I bet you’re good at this mate” says Glen slapping Pilchard on the back “It’s your style of driving!”
The buzzer rings and the cars slowly come to a halt. The boys rush onto the rink selecting their weapons of choice. Ryan jumps into the blue number 3 car which looked the fastest and inserts his token. They have monopolised all the cars except for one containing two early teen girls. There is an air of excited anticipation; they eye each other with malevolent intent. The buzzer sounds and the cars spring to life, giving them all a shot of adrenalin. Ryan guns his car away from the pack in an attempt to build momentum, he sees Phil being lightly nudged by Glen and Fat Dave. Crocket and Pilchard are jammed up together against the wall. Ryan now has a clear shot at Crocket with enough speed to really f**k him up. A car approaches at speed from the left and Ryan is hit moderately hard by Jason who seems to have cheered up. The collision knocks Ryan off course and Phil blocks his target. Ryan spins the car out of the way of Mark and once again has a clear shot at Crocket who has got himself stuck against the wall of the rink. Crocket has a stupid expression on his face ignorant of the fact that he needs to spin the steering wheel the other way to put the car in reverse. Crocket looks over his shoulder in time to see a car hurtling towards him, the occupant of the car raising himself slightly to exert more force. The impact takes Crocket’s breath away, his head whips forward and for a few seconds he is completely disorientated. Ryan drives off laughing like a hyena looking for his next victim but is spun out by the teenage girls. He puts the car into reverse and tries to find Marcus. Suddenly the buzzer sounds and their cars grind to a halt. Everyone inserts their second token apart from Marcus who jumps out of his car and bounds over to Ryan and gets in the car with him.
“What are you doing?” shouts Ryan exasperated that he has been deprived of the opportunity to get Vellacott.
“I only bought one token” shrugs Marcus.
Ryan notices that Crocket is pointing at their car while rubbing his knee; he’s saying something to Phil and Glen, his face a picture of anger.
Ryan gestures in Crocket’s direction “I got that little f**ker pretty good on the ropes.”
Marcus nods “I saw you mate, looked pretty harsh.”
“You aint seen nothing yet” says Ryan under his breath as the buzzer sounds and he spins the wheel away from the pack. He avoids Pilchard, is lightly nudged by Mark and builds speed heading toward the side of the rink. Ryan stands slightly once again to apply more weight to the impact. Marcus looks around for the target Ryan is gunning for; he turns his head back in time to see them about to drive full speed straight into the wall.
“F**KING HELL, YOU STUPID TWAT!” screams Marcus’ as his left knee smashes into the steel frame of the car, his head jerks forward and back violently.
Ryan is laughing hysterically; he spins the wheel putting the car into reverse and into the path of Glen who swerves out of their way into Crocket.
Marcus desperately shifts his weight sideways to protect his knees from more punishment “YOU F**KING PSYCO!”
Ryan takes a wide run using the open space to hit top speed, he raises his arse as they head straight for the wall again.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”
This time they hit the wall much harder, the force knocking Marcus’s torso out of the car. His back smashes onto the floor of the rink, his legs remaining in the car.
“SHIT MATE! PULL ME UP!” he says terrified holding his arms out to Ryan as bumper cars fly past inches from his head.
Ryan has no intention of helping him; he laughs manically and puts the car into reverse. Marcus is nearly crying with fear as his head bumps violently along the floor at speed. Suddenly the power is cut and the cars slowly come to a standstill.
“F**KING HELL” Shrieks Marcus jumping unsteadily to his feet “YOU F**KING TRYING TO KILL ME?!”
Ryan stands up, his face full of urgency, he grabs Marcus aggressively by the shoulders and says quietly “Run“.
Marcus suddenly becomes aware that a fairground goon is lumbering towards them to throw them out for such dangerous buffoonery. Ryan charges in the opposite direction dragging Marcus with him. The others stare on confusedly from their stationary cars.
They charge though the crowd, Marcus looks over his shoulder still feeling completely dazed “He aint chasing us” he calls after Ryan “They’ve turned the juice back on.”
“Keep running!” replies Ryan snaking breathlessly between morose families. Ryan doesn’t stop running until they reach the entrance to the pleasure beach. Dripping with sweat he turns to Marcus and pants “Turn your phone off!”
“What?”
“Turn your mobile off; we don’t want any of them ringing up to see where we are. I fancy a couple of hours away from them twats!” he produces his own phone and switches it off with great satisfaction “F**k them, I’m not enjoying myself at all, apart from getting off with that bird last night and nearly killing Crocket.”
“And nearly killing me mate, you nearly killed me! I was half way out of the car with my head banging on the floor; someone could have easily run over my f**king head!”
“Yeah, that was pretty funny!” laughs Ryan without an ounce of remorse “Your phone off?”
“You’ve still got my phone; you never gave it back to me after getting that text from that slag.”
Ryan roots around in his coat for Vellecot’s phone and switches it off “Slag nothing. She’s a nice girl, she was very nice to me. Right, let’s get the f**k out of here, get some grub and have some fun.”
There a huge map of the local area showing all the attractions next to a shop selling seaside tat.. Ryan squints at it and traces his finger from the ‘You are here’ point into town. Marcus leans on the wall and rubs his knee “My f**king knee is killing, you prick.”
Ryan and Marcus make their way into town; Ryan keeps stopping and taking a look around before moving on. “I’m going in there for a can of lemonade” says Marcus pointing to a newsagents on the corner “Want anything?”
“Cheers, get me a can as well but don’t get diet for me.”
When Marcus comes out of the shop he can see Ryan getting directions from a bloke on a bike.
“Apparently there’s a fantastic Karaoke pub near here” chirps Ryan crossing the road towards Marcus “It’s a pub called the Royal Oak. It’s just here apparently.”
“Oh shit, do we have to?”
“Well Phil hates Karaoke so it’s a perfect place to lay low.”
There is plenty he could say about this but Marcus hasn’t got the energy to argue.
Phil takes his phone away from his ear and sniffs “I can’t get through to either of them, just goes straight to message.”
“Maybe the impact of their car hitting the wall knocked their phones out?” says Pilchard with a stupid expression on his face.
“The impact of my fist on their faces will knock THEM out when I get my hands on them!” barks Phil “Where the f**k are they?”
“I’m not too bothered to see the back of them” says Crocket.
Mark turns to Crocket “I don’t blame you chap after how bad Ryan got you, he really smashed into you. It must have killed!”
Crocket shakes his head and says cockily “He didn’t get me that bad, just gave me a nudge”
“A NUDGE?” spits Glen “He hit you so hard I thought you were going to end up back in Rydalmere!”
“He did it because he still thinks you shit on his pillow last night” Deadpans Fat Dave.
“I DIDN’T SHIT ON HIS PILLOW!”
The sound of drum and bass competes with their jeering.
Mark put’s the phone to his ear “Y’ello? Hello babe, how’s things?” he screws his face up “WHAT? NO, I TOLD YOU DON’T BUY ANY GEAR FROM DRYSDALE! WHY? BECAUSE IT’S CUT WITH F**KING WASHING POWDER BABE! I TOLD YOU TO SEE TOMMO OR GIBBO IF YOU RAN OUT! ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL YOURSELF BABE?” he looks at the others and frowns shaking his head “LOOK BABE, WE’RE TRYING TO HAVE A GOOD TIME AND YOU KEEP RINGING ME WITH THIS CRAP, I’M HANGING UP!” he takes the phone away from his ear and switches it off “F**KING PILL QUEEN!”

“Right, we’ll watch the footage in reverse order, starting with Reece Clipstone being chucked out” says Oliver Hampton sitting in the tiny CCTV office of the Electric Mile.
“Probably the best camera to start with is the one covering the inside of the entrance area. You can see who comes in and out” says Terry Brown looking at the clock; this is going to take hours.
Oliver scratches his chin “His girlfriend says they were thrown out at about ten.”
The security manager cues the tape to ten thirty then rewinds it at double speed. Figures fly in and out of the club. The tape is slowed to real time every time someone is forcibly ejected.
“No, that’s not him.”
After ten minutes Oliver points at the screen “Wait a sec, that’s him.”
A bouncer drags Reece Clipstone by the arm into the corridor. Reece appears to be protesting but not struggling. His girlfriend follows them also pleading with the bouncer. Terry cuts to the all important club exterior cam, the one that has implicated his doormen on dozens of occasions. The bouncer lets go of Reece’s arm, Clipstone gestures aggressively but walks away. The bouncer is seen going back inside the club.
“That’s a relief I bet?” says Oliver grinning, eliciting a short nervous laugh from Terry.
“Right, let’s wind it back and see what happened leading up to him getting chucked out.”
Terry switches to the camera that covers the bar area. They watch the rewinding footage of Reece being escorted through the crowd; another camera switch and the figures on the screen suddenly appear to scrum together.
“Stop, now play it real time please.”
A figure runs towards the bar pursued by Reece, a large body builder looking chap puts him in an arm lock assisted by a taller chap. A shorter, younger bloke appears to hit Reece on the back of the head. The large chap still restraining Reece turns and pushes the small chap away.
Oliver squints at the screen “Do you recognize any of these blokes?”
“No, can’t say I do.”
“Right it looks like there are possibly six people in their group but there could be more. Can we take it back it a bit further to see why Reece was chasing the oriental lad? If in fact there was a reason.”
The footage speeds backwards revealing the chase from the gents. The screen switches to inside the gents toilet.
They watch in real time as Reece rushes towards the Oriental chap.
“Wait, did the Chinese lad hit him then? Take it back again.”
“No, looks like he slipped on the wet floor.”
“Wind it back further I want to track these chaps back to the time they entered the club.”

The Royal Oak is badly in need of redecoration. It is dirty, dingy, smelly and sticky. A fat woman in a blonde wig is running the karaoke. As there is hardly anyone in the pub, she is having to sing all the songs herself. She is wearing a dress two sizes too small; her unsightly bingo wings flap vigorously as she puts her all into a power ballad.
“It makes me laugh that they haven’t even turned the T.V off!” laughs Ryan “She’s competing with the bloody football!”
“I F**KING HATE THAT TWAT!” Vellacott screams pointing at the large T.V mounted on the wall next to the bar. The manager of some premier league football team seems to have infuriated Marcus.
“WHAT THE F**K ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? YOU LYING PIECE OF SHIT” spits Vellacott at the screen through a mouthful of salted peanuts.
“I can’t understand this loyalty to one team” said Ryan “You are supposed to support one team from the cradle to the grave but the players only have loyalty to the highest bidder. If they can get more money playing for a rival club, they are off. And I thought you were supposed to support your local team, most people support a team whose ground is 200 miles away. I don’t get it”.
”Football fans are losers mate” agrees Vellacott much to Ryan’s surprise “I mean most of the people that go to the match are working class and are getting ripped off for extortionate ticket prices to watch players that earn more a week than they do in a year.”
“I fancy doing something cheesy from the nineties” says Ryan looking through the plastic wallet containing the song options “Do you know ‘Dr Heartbreak’ by Carl Fletcher?”
“Never heard of it” replies Marcus continuing to watch the football news.
Ryan scribbles something on a small square of paper “I’m just going for a piss.”
Ryan hands the piece paper to Karaoke woman and walks to the gents. The toilets are freezing cold and filthy. Ryan holds his breath and hurries up.
“Can we have Marcus up to the stand please?” The Karaoke woman asks in a strong Welsh accent “Marcus? To sing Dr Heartbreak by Carl Fletcher?”
Ryan exits the gents and sees Marcus glaring at him.
“Marcus?” she asks as Ryan walks back to their table. Ryan shakes his head and points to Marcus “He’s shy.”
“Come on Marcus!” she scolds while walking towards them “I’ll sing it with you if you want.”
“I don’t know it!” pleads Marcus embarrassed; he points to Ryan who is laughing hysterically “It’s all his fault!”
She grabs Vellecot’s hand and pulls him to his feet and back to the Karaoke stand.
“Can we have a big hand for Marcus singing Dr Heartbreak by Carl Fletcher.”
Nobody claps. The door opens attracting Ryan’s attention, his feels a burst of excitement as Helen gingerly walks in with an athletic looking friend he doesn’t recognise from last night. He waves them over.
“THEY CALL HIM DR HEAR-TBREAK,
CRY-ING AROUND TO-WN,
THEY CALL HIM DR HEAR-TBREAK,
THE WORLD’S BIG-GEST CLOWN”
Marcus tries to follow the bouncing ball as it illuminates the words on the screen but he really doesn’t have a clue how the tune goes. The Karaoke woman joins in to save him but it’s no use. She dances to the sound controls and turns his microphone volume down. He looks up and sees two birds walking towards their table and it clicks. This has been a set up, a pre-arranged meeting. That’s why he was so keen to get away from the others. The fat blonde girl embraces Ryan and kisses him on the cheek. Marcus looks at the other one and gets butterflies in his stomach. Ryan points to the Karaoke stand, says something and they both laugh. Marcus smiles back at them hoping against hope that Ryan isn’t already damaging his credibility.
“Let’s have a big hand for Marcus!” says the Karaoke woman as he hands the microphone back to her.
The girls and Ryan clap exaggeratedly; he walks towards them, his mind racing.
“Ladies, this is my friend Marcus.”
As he walks to their table Marcus’s body language changes from a man in his early thirties to a woman in her early sixties. “Hello!”He says sounding completely camp.
Helen is sitting next to Ryan leaving an empty chair next to her mate; despite this Marcus sits at the next table.
Ryan points to the chair next to Helen’s mate “Sit there” he says firmly.
“Ooh I have to do what he says the whole time, he’s very strict!”
Ryan wonders why the hell does he always sound so gay when he’s trying to impress a lady? Marcus gets up and slumps into the empty chair on their table.
“This is Helen” says Ryan “and this is Helen’s friend whose name I don’t know!”
“Claire” says her companion laughing nervously.
“Were you out last night Claire?” Marcus is jealous how at ease Ryan always seems in these situations.
“Yes I was” she says with a cheeky expression on her face.
“Well, there was an incident involving a drink spilled by one of our party onto one of your party which resulted in some unpleasantness, remember that Marcus?”
Vellacott squirms in his chair looking really nervous “Oh, I think I do as it goes!” he says in a voice which does him no favours at all.
The girls giggle and confer “I think that must have been Maddie” says Clare, she turns to Ryan “was she quite short?”
“Yeah, short of patients and decorum” says Ryan.
“That’s her!” laughs Helen.
“I’m forgetting myself” says Ryan dramatically “What would you like to drink?”
“Well if you really insist I’ll have a vodka and lemonade” smiles Helen.
Ryan nods to Claire.
“I’ll have a pint of cider, thanks.”
“You hear that Marcus? Vodka and lemonade, pint of cider, Pint of lager and whatever you’re having.”
Marcus pauses not knowing if he is joking but Ryan’s stare becomes impatient. Marcus doesn’t know what would be worse, leaving the table so Ryan can make up things about him or be left on his own with these two women he’s just met while Ryan goes to the bar?
“Oh, ok, he’s so strict, aint he?” he says effeminately then goes to the bar.
Ryan turns confidentially to the girls “Before you ask, he’s not.”
“You could have fooled me!” whispers Helen widening her eyes.
“He always acts like that around women he is trying to impress. If he didn’t like you he would flirt like hell, really bloke it up!”
“Saw Terry down the market, still don’t know if he’s back with Maureen, didn’t like to ask” witters the elderly barmaid as she serves Marcus “Still drives Taxis, still working with Reg and Jim.”
Marcus nods as if he knows whom she’s talking about.
“Reg fixed my Fiat once, had an oil leak. Terry had a new dog, the last one ran away, It’s a Doberman Pincher, bloody great thing it was nearly pulls him off his feet it does. I wouldn’t want a dog that big, not in my little house.”
Marcus looks around, she must be talking to someone else but there’s no one about. “Chris used to have one of them, he brought it round a couple of times and it caused havoc. I said to him ‘get it out of here!’ Marie’s got to go the dentist tomorrow, probably have to have work done, always does. Did you know that dentists have to train to be vets first?”
“What have you been up to today?” asks Helen.
“O.K, let’s see, it’s been quite eventful. Woke up feeling badly hung over only to find that someone had wiped their arse on my pillowcase as a joke, had a fry up then we thought our van had been stolen but it hadn’t. Then we went into town and over a game of pool our friend Jason, who managed to get himself beaten up last night, decided to come out of the closet. That was awkward. Then we went to the pleasure beach where I nearly killed Marcus on the dodgems by driving into the wall, making him fall out of the car. Apart from that it’s been quite dull, yourself?”
“You made all of that up!” laughs Helen.
“I wish I had, apart from meeting you the whole weekend has been a complete f**king nightmare!”
Claire screws up her face “Did you say someone wiped shit on your pillow?”
“Yes, it was the bride’s brother who has been on my case since we left yesterday morning, but I got him back by giving him whiplash on the dodgems, so hopefully he’ll be under a chiropractor for some considerable time to come.”
Marcus returns with the drinks on a battered metal tray “That old dear being the bar is mental. Who was the cider?”
Claire raises her hand revealing a butterfly tattoo on her wrist “Thanks.”
Helen squeezes Ryan’s hand “Where’s Mark?”
“Last time I saw him was at the pleasure beach. After my attempt to kill Marcus they shut the power off and we did a runner ostensibly to avoid the fairground types but it was really to get away from all the others and catch up with you. I was sick of the whole stag do mentality with all the alpha male bullshit you have to put up with. You didn’t like Mark did you?”
Helen frowns and shakes her head “I thought he was very arrogant and they way he drugged that girl was well out of order. I felt so sorry for that poor bloke and that little girl.”
“But, as we said before” says Ryan placing an arm around Helen’s shoulders “They did already appear to be having some quite serious marital problems. But she certainly didn’t give any indication that she was taking us back to her marital home. But you’re right the drugs probably didn’t help.”
Marcus laughs “He is a bit of a dodgy c**t!”
Helen sighs “I hate that word.”
“Sorry” says Marcus biting his lip.
“Anyway Helen, it’s really nice to see you again.”
Marcus feels embarrassed. He really should start up a conversation with Claire who is now watching Helen and Ryan talk while looking mildly bored. He is a little intimidated by how pretty she is. She must have something stuck in her teeth by the way she sucks her cheeks in. He racks his brains for something interesting to say, the drink isn’t helping as he is paranoid that he sounds really drunk. Ryan continues to chat to Helen. They have the body language of the newly in love. Marcus does feel a little jealous of how Helen is drinking Ryan in, intoxicated by him.
Marcus bites the bullet. He turns to Claire “Are you staying in town?”
She looks at him looking confused.
“Your hotel? Is your hotel in town because ours is about five miles away? Which makes it a pain to get in and out of town.”
“Our hotel is just around the corner, we were lucky to get in because of the ballroom dancing thingy.”
Marcus laughs “Thingy?”
Claire blushes and smiles “I don’t know why I used the word thingy?”
To have made her laugh makes Marcus feel really good “I know what you mean, how many other girls are up here with you?”
She wrinkles her nose and tilts her head to one side looking really gorgeous “Six of us, two in each room.”
Marcus takes a massive gulp of beer which makes him choke. The look of surprise on his face makes Claire burst out laughing. “Oh shit!” yells Marcus as the beer spurts out of his mouth.
Ryan looks at Helen, then at Claire then says softly “Hey, if your place is nearby, maybe we could go back there for a while?”
Helen sucks her straw and nods, her eyes widening.
Ryan watches Marcus trying to wipe the beer from his t-shirt “How can we make sure we’re alone?” he wishes that this had been better arranged and they had left the other two out of it.
Helen looks in deep thought for a moment then smiles deviously “Claire, Ryan and I are just going back to the hotel as I forget to give him his jacket back, you’re cool to stay here with Marcus for a bit right?”
Claire bristles at this suggestion looking far from cool with this suggestion “I don’t want to spend all day in this pub and to be fair it’s a bit much to leave me with a bloke I’ve only just met!” she looks at Marcus suddenly “No offence.”
Great, thinks Ryan, aware that Claire is trying to cock-block him. He scrambles to think of a way to keep things on track.
“We could go somewhere else if you want?” says Marcus pleadingly “go round the shops or go to another pub, somewhere that doesn’t have Karaoke. Meet up with these two later?”
Claire looks at their faces feeling ill at ease. She stares at the table playing with her glass deep in thought “Ok, but ring me as soon you leave the hotel.”
Ryan slips Marcus’s phone back to him “Turn your phone back on.”
“What about the others? What do I say if they ring me?”
Ryan is so excited he can barely think straight “Er..tell them the truth that we had enough of them and needed a break. Tell them we’ll be back at the hotel before four.”
Ryan squeezes Helen tightly and drains his glass feeling completely and very satisfyingly out of control. Before he can say a word he and Helen are in the street, they turn a corner and kiss passionately grinding against each other.
“This is a bit awkward” laughs Marcus, “They are obviously going back to the hotel to have sex.”
“Do you think so?” says Claire sarcastically.
He scratches his arm nervously “What are they like eh?”
There is an awkward silence, Marcus looks over at the Karaoke woman and back at Claire “At least it will be over quickly! Where shall we go? Do you know any decent places to amuse ourselves until those two call us? Unless that is, you’d prefer to stay here and have a go at the Karaoke?”
She laughs shaking her head with a look of mock horror on her face then thinks for a second “There is a really nice bar a little further in town called the Vox, we went in there last night before going to the Electric mile.”
“Sounds great, let’s go!”

Chapter twenty

Dave waives the beer bottle around while he makes his point “Have you ever heard a geezer on the phone to his wife at home with the kids and it hasn’t sounded like he was talking to someone with learning difficulties?”
“They ring up all the time and if someone else answers they hang up! The geezer either gets grief or has to placate her cause she’s worried about the colour of the kids shit!”
“To be honest I miss all that” says Glen with a defeated expression on his face “I don’t feel like I’m kept in the loop at all.”
“He’s not having any more drink, look at him, he’s wankered!” says Phil angrily pointing to Crocket who is walking unsteadily towards the gents.
Glen nods “He aint going to like it.”
“I don’t care, he’s pissed out of his head and it’s only half two, what sort of state is he going to be in later at this rate?”
Phil looks at the others; they look like shadows of their former selves. He belches into his hand and watches Mark and Pilchard stand at the bar talking to the mutton dressed as lamb barmaid. Phil can’t hear what they are saying over the din of 80’s pop but they are obviously on the make. They both have deliriously happy expressions on their faces desperate to impress her. She smiles back at them while continuing to serve drinks. She obviously loves herself, is well used to the attention and is a complete slag. He thinks of Julie and the wedding and how much it is all going to cost. He looks out the window morosely. He notices an attractive young woman approaching the bar with, he squints, it can’t be.
“HEY, MARCUS IS ABOUT TO WALK IN HERE WITH A BIT OF STUFF!”
Pilchard turns around looking confused “What?”
“After you” says Marcus opening the door for Claire, he steps aside and immediately notices Fat Dave and Jason sitting by the door. His heart sinks. The jeering starts.
“WHERE THE F**K HAVE YOU BEEN?” yells Phil looking pissed off.
Fat Dave stands up and grabs Marcus roughly by the arm “Who’s your friend?”
Claire turns to him eyebrows furrowing.
Marcus involuntarily stamps his feet “F**K IT!”
…..
Sarah Millard looks up from the roulette table at the man approaching her table.
“Can I have a word?” says Oliver Hampton with a smile “Kirsty can take over.”
There’s something about his eyes which scares her. She stands and follows him into a back room. He closes the door and motions for her to sit down.
“Did you hear what happened to Reece Clipstone last night?” he says sitting on the table in front of her.
She nods her eyes wide with fear.
“Did you have a good time last night?”
She cocks her head to one side looking confused.
“At the Electric mile. You were at the Electric mile last night?”
“Yes.”
“Who was he?”
“Who?”
He stands up and she feels a sharp blow to the back of her head nearly knocking her onto the floor. He grabs her by the hair and jerks her head towards him. She urinates in fear.
“DON’T F**K ME ABOUT, I SAW YOU DANCING WITH THIS BLOKE ON THE CLUB CCTV!” he thrusts a grainy photo of Mark in front of her “HE WAS WITH THE BLOKES WHO PUT REECE IN HOSPITAL SO I’LL ASK YOU AGAIN, WHO IS HE?”
“HIS NAME IS MARK BUT I DON’T KNOW MUCH ELSE ABOUT HIM!” she screams with tears running down her face as the urine drips onto the floor.
Hampton lets go of her hair and sits down opposite her. He looks at the pool of piss under her chair “Right, tell me the little you do know about him.”
“He said he was up here on a stag do, he has a Manchester accent but him and his mate are from down south. We had a dance then we went back to my house.”
“Did you get his number?”
“No” she lies.
“Give me your phone.”
“It’s in my locker.”
“What was his mate’s name?”
“Brian, no Ryan.”
“Did they say where they were staying?”
“They did but I can’t remember” she laughs nervously “I was drunk and he gave me some pills, so I was pretty out of it.”
Oliver thinks about this then slaps her around the face “I DON’T REMEMBER WHERE THEY ARE STAYING, I SWEAR!” she screams.
He slaps her again then rips her blouse open, his face contorting into an evil sneer “Take your clothes off.”
“What?” she says through floods of tears.
He bangs on the table “I SAID TAKE YOUR F**KING CLOTHES OFF!”
“Why are you doing this to me? I swear I can’t remember where they are staying!”
He stands over her smiling “If you don’t start taking your clothes off I’m going to kick your teeth in, then I’m going to break your fingers, then your legs. You got that?”
She takes off her ripped blouse and piss stained skirt “Keep going” says Hampton calmly.
She turns her head away and unhooks her bra and lays it on the cold concrete floor. “Keep going” says Hampton staring at her breasts and undoing his belt.
She sighs then wriggles out of her thong crying uncontrollably “Don’t rape me! Please don’t rape me!”
“I’M NOT GOING TO RAPE YOU!” snaps Hampton as if he’s mortally offended. He walks over to her with the belt hanging loose in his hand “Now here’s the deal, I belt buckle you until you tell me where they are staying. We’ll see who gives in first.”
She curls into a ball “NO, PLEASE, I DON’T REMEMBER.”
There is a whip crack and the belt smashes into her left shoulder. It is the worst pain she has ever felt in her life. She screams in agony rolling on the floor trying to cover her entire body with her hands. It occurs to her that she’s going to die. He’s going to kill her; she’ll never see her daughter again. The pain intensifies and she vomits onto some boxes in the corner.
“Where are they staying?” says Hampton raising the belt.
Her mind races to the conversation in taxi as they went to her place “We joked about the name, it sounded like something else, something bad.”
“Something bad like what?”
“Pain, worry” she looks at him with a feint smile “Neurosis. That’s what it sounded like, Neurosis.”
His face changes from anger to confusion “New Roses?”
“YES, IT WAS CALLED NEW ROSES!”
He walks towards her making her scream “NO!” but instead of hitting her he throws her clothes at her “Get dressed, we’re going to your locker to get your phone.”

Claire spins around and looks at Marcus her eyes blazing “RYAN HAS A GIRLFRIEND? IS THIS TRUE?”
Crocket smiles to himself pleased with his handy work.
Marcus turns to face him “YOU F**KING BIG MOUTHED ARSEHOLE!”
“What’s going on?” says Phil looking tense.
“THIS LITTLE ARSEHOLE WENT AND TOLD HER THAT RYAN HAS GOT A GIRLFRIEND!”
“So what like?”
“HE’S GONE OFF WITH HER MATE, THAT’S WHERE HE IS NOW!”
“I DON’T BELIEVE THIS!” shrieks Claire getting her phone out of her handbag.
Marcus rushes towards her pleadingly “WHAT ARE DOING? NO, NO, NO, DON’T RING YOUR MATE!”
Claire pushes past him angrily “F**K OFF!” she looks at the others gawping at her “F**K OFF THE LOT OF YOU!”
“Oh shit!” says Marcus as the door slams shut behind her. He stands there for a second gathering his thoughts.
“YOU F**KING GOT SOME CHAT AINT YOU?” goads Crocket swaggering drunkenly over to him “WHO WERE YOU CALLING A ARSEHOLE?” he says his head pecking from side to side.
Phil looks at Glen who puts his drink down and approaches Crocket.
Marcus feels dizzy from the amount of hatred he feels for Crocket.
Crocket grabs Marcus by the front of his t-shirt “YOU BEEN ASKING FOR A SLAP ALL WEEKEND. AINT YER? AINT YER?”
Then it happens. Marcus suddenly lurches backwards breaking away from him, takes another step back and punches Crocket squarely on the nose. Crocket doubles over and then his legs buckle. He tries to stop himself falling but grabs only thin air. Crashing to the ground, he looks up at Marcus “YOU’RE DEAD! YOU’RE F**KING DEAD!”
Marcus holds his position “Get up and kill me then” he says softly “get up from where I’ve just decked you in front of everyone and kill me but I swear to god that as soon as you get up I’m going to put you down again because you are a nasty little twat!”
Crocket tries to stand but Glen drags him to his feet and strong arms him out of the door.
Crocket looks at Glen exasperated “GET OFF ME!”
Pilchard slaps Marcus on the back “That was quite a punch you landed him; I didn’t know you had it in you!”
Marcus smiles “Nor did I!” suddenly his smile fades “SHIT! RYAN” he cries reaching for his phone.

Ryan pushes his dick gently between Helen’s legs. The end of his prick goes in making her squirm. He thrusts harder feeling it go all the way in. Her body stiffens a little, he knows that it probably hurts but she isn’t protesting. Blood begins to splatter the white towel they are laying on. He concentrates on a hairbrush lying on a dressing table next to her mobile phone in an attempt to last a decent length of time. He wishes that she wasn’t so fat, much bigger than his Karen. She kisses him violently as he pumps as hard as he can, much harder than Karen would allow. She moans loudly grabbing the bed sheet.
“F**k me!” she says lustily “Don’t come yet.”
Why did she have to say that? He continues to stare at the matted hair on the bristles of that pink hairbrush, desperately trying to ignore the immense pleasure. He focuses in the half dozen hair bands around the handle of the brush. He tries to think of something, anything to stop himself coming but his mind is a blank. Her phone starts vibrating and playing that stupid song from that advert. He tries to remember what the song’s called as a delaying tactic.
She places her hands on his shoulders ”let’s do it doggie” she purrs then slides her hands down his chest to his nipples, twisting them violently. He screams pulling away from her.
“Sorry was that too hard?” she says the fat of her enormous breasts rippling.
He shakes his bowed head, his eyes shut tight like he’s going to sneeze “I’m going to come!” he pants in her ear, she pushes him forcefully out of her and he gets to his knees wanking himself violently. He shouts loudly spattering a jet of hot semen over her stomach. He groans noisily bouncing on his knees wringing every last drop from the base of his cock feeling like a king. He looks at his blood soaked dick looking horrified before he remembers that she’s on. She reaches over to a box of tissues as her phone continues to vibrate on the dressing table.

Oliver Hampton scrolls through the contacts list in Helens phone while she rubs her shoulder and winces. There are no entries for anyone called Mark, he sniffs then checks her messages but there’s nothing. He hands the phone back to her and smiles “You were telling the truth” he produces a wad of notes and counts out fifty pounds “Get yourself a new blouse and take the rest of the night off”.
She takes the money and turns to leave shaking violently.
“One more thing” says Hampton his face contorting into a sneer “Don’t bother trying to contact their guesthouse. It’s run by my mother.”

“YOU DESERVED THAT” says Glen outside the Vox bar picking Crocket up by his neck “I TOLD YOU WHAT WOULD HAPPEN IF YOU STARTED ON MARCUS AGAIN.”
He slaps Crocket hard around the face “YOU ARE A F**KING LIABILITY, A JOKE. YOU’RE TOO IMMATURE TO BE OUT WITH US. IF YOU DO ONE MORE THING TO PISS ANYONE OFF YOU CAN GO HOME, DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”
Crocket looks up at him pleadingly “But Glen, I didn’t mean to…”
Glen raises his fist “YOU DO ONE MORE THING TO PISS US OFF AND YOU’RE GOING HOME ON THE TRAIN, O.K? AND THAT INCLUDES TELLING YOUR SISTER ABOUT RYAN’S LITTLE INDISCRETION. KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT. THERE’S NOTHING WORSE THAN A GRASS, O.K?”
Crocket’s looks up at Glen, his bottom lip quivering “I’ve been under a shit load of pressure lately. I fell head over heels in love with a bird and she cheated on me” he breaks down bealy unable to get his words out “She got pregnant by another bloke. I thought we would be together forever and she did that to me. I couldn’t stand it and went off the rails a bit. This is why I’m acting like an arsehole.”
Glen doesn’t know what to say he releases him “I’m sorry to hear about your problems Crocket. Now let’s go back in and you’re going to apologise to Marcus and shake hands.”
Crocket spins round “WHAT?”
Glen grabs him up again. Crocket nods solemnly “O.k.”
The door opens, all eyes are on them.
Glen motions to Marcus “Can you come over here a minute mate? Crocket has got something he wants to say to you.”
Marcus pauses then walks over to them he turns to Phil who shrugs, eyes darting in all directions.
Crocket looks truly pathetic; he can’t look Marcus in the eye “I want to say I’m sorry for starting on you.”
“I think you owe Ryan an apology as well” snaps Marcus.
“We’ll get to that later eh?” says Glen looking menacingly at Vellacott.
Crocket holds out his hand and raises his head to look at Marcus “No hard feelings?”
“Plenty, but for the sake of good order I’m prepared to put this behind me” Marcus shakes his hand “You saw that bird I was with; I thought I was in there. Now she’s gone after all the good work I was putting in.”
Crocket lifts his head to face Marcus “Sorry mate.”
“Hey Crocket!” says Fat Dave pointing at the speakers behind them “They’re playing your song!”
Crocket sneers “F**king M People!”

“YOU ARSEHOLE! I THOUGHT I’D MET SOMEONE NICE WHEN ALL ALONG YOU’RE JUST A BASTARD CHEATING ON HIS GIRLFRIEND, USING ME AS CHEAP ENTERTAINMENT! GET OUT!”
Ryan can’t believe this, he really can’t. He franticly tries to locate his discarded clothes.
“GET OUT!” screams Helen trying to cover her nakedness with a bed sheet.
“NOT UNTIL I FIND MY CLOTHES!” Ryan picks up what he thinks is his T-shirt but are really her knickers, he pockets them anyway. She runs into the bathroom and locks the door.
He dresses quickly and is about to leave when he sees a bottle of vodka protruding from a holdall. He pauses momentarily wondering if this would be going too far, he shrugs takes it anyway and leaves. As he hurries down the corridor he can hear her sobbing, he feels bad but not as bad as the motherf**ker who let the cat out of the bag is going to feel.

‘Ryan MBL’ flashes on the display. Marcus walks into the toilet and answers it.
“WHAT JUST HAPPENED?” screams Ryan deeply suspicious that this is down to Vellacott.
“It was Crocket, me and that other bird went to this other bar and the rest of them were in there. Crocket told her, I punched him and Glen made him apologise.”
“WHAT? DID YOU SAY YOU PUNCHED CROCKET?”
“Yeah, it was really going well between that bird and me, then he goes and ruins it. I had a go at him, he got physical, next thing I know, I’ve bashed him.”
“SHIT, I BET HE’S GOT STRAIGHT ON THE PHONE TO JULIE, F**K. WHERE ARE YOU ANYWAY?”
“Vox bar just up the street from where that Karaoke place was. About five minutes further into town. You O.K? did you get loads of grief?”
“SHIT LOADS BUT I GOT A F**K BEFORE IT STARTED KICKING OFF, I’LL TELL YOU ALL ABOUT IT IN A MINUTE.”

Marcus’s phone vibrates as he receives a text. Unknown sender: “YOU ARSEHOLE SCUMBAG BRING BACK MY KNICKERS AND VODKA OR I’LL RING THE POLICE!”
Marcus laughs sarcastically, shakes his head and walks out of the toilet.
“What’s going on?” says Phil “Where’s Ryan?”
Marcus grabs Fat Dave’s pint out of his hand and takes a massive gulp “He’s on his way here now” he looks over at Crocket sitting dejectedly on his own in the corner “I can’t believe that little prick went and spilled the beans. That Claire bird I was with was a proper sort. I thought I was in there.”
“Was he with that Helen bird?” says Mark “Nice girl but carrying a bit too much weight for my liking.”
The door opens and Ryan walks in looking dishevelled.
“What the f**k have you been up to?” yells Pilchard with eyes bulging.
Ryan reaches into his pocket and triumphantly produces a large pair of women’s knickers much to the approval of the lads. He unfolds them and holds them above his head looking pleased with himself. He looks at that little f**ker Crocket sitting in the corner ignoring them.
“She wants them back” says Marcus “and the vodka.”
Ryan’s face drops “Shit, she texted you already did she?”
“Apparently if she doesn’t get her cacks and vodka back she’s going to call the police.”
“THE POLICE?” spits Phil “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE RYAN?”
Ryan shrugs and pulls the bottle of vodka from his inside coat pocket. He holds it up proudly.
Phil looks at it shaking his head in disbelief “YOU KNICKED THAT OFF HER?”
“Yeah and her knickers!”
“THIS AINT FUNNY, WHAT IF SHE SENDS THE POLICE AFTER YOU. I’M GETTING MARRIED NEXT WEEK IN CASE YOU’VE FORGOT, I DON’T NEED THIS HASSLE! FOR F**K’S SAKE! YOU LOT HAVE BEEN TRYING TO DROP US ALL IN THE SHIT AT EVERY OPPORTUNITY. PISSING ON PETROL STATION FORECOURTS” he jerks a thumb in Pilchard’s direction “HIM DRIVING LIKE A PSYCHO AND LET’S NOT FORGET” he looks around lowers his voice “Let’s not forget the beating you gave that lad last night, whatever the provocation according to Jason the bloke took a really nasty kicking and afterwards he looked dead. So Christ knows what’s happening about that?” Glen and Pilchard look at each other, then at Jason who returns their stare. Phil continues “Now we’ve got ANOTHER situation where we’re stealing underwear and drink from random women! Can everyone like, GROW THE F**K UP?”
Phil looks at their faces, their body language suggests that they want to pacify him but are they going to stop this irresponsible behaviour? “Let’s just tone things down, give that bird her stuff back and start to act a little normally guys?”
No one says anything. Marcus get’s another text message; he shows it to Ryan who curses silently. Ryan takes the phone and texts her back.
Phil turns to Ryan “I don’t want her coming here. In fact we should go somewhere else as her mate knows where we are. Drink up” no one takes any notice “HEY! DRINK UP WE’RE OUT OF HERE!”
Marcus cocks his head to one side “What are you texting her?”
“I’m telling her I’ll leave the stuff in a bag behind the bar here.”
“I’ve been thinking about your behaviour on this trip and I’ve come to the conclusion that you’re a woman hater.”
“WHAT?”
“I blame your Julie. She has systematically removed all the plus parts of the relationship until the point where there’s nothing left but rage. But you won’t confront her, so instead you have these casual meaningless relationships where you treat these women appallingly so that you feel like you’re getting revenge.”
Ryan ponders this for a second “You could be right there.”
“We might as well go back to the hotel” says Glen looking at his watch furtively “We can get changed and then go to the casino.”
“Shall we do that?” asks Phil.
They all nod.
Glen claps his hands together looking pleased with himself “Right, I’ll see about getting us a minibus.”
Phil drains his pint “Not from here, tell the cab to pick us up from...are there any other pubs nearby?”
“The Royal Oak is just up the street” says Ryan approaching the barmaid with his stolen property.
“OK, we’ll go there” says Phil motioning to Glen “OK GUYS, LET’S GO!”
“Could you put this behind the bar, please?” says Ryan to the barmaid “It’s a bottle of vodka and a large pair of knickers. I borrowed them from a friend who will drop by and pick them up later; her name is Helen, big girl, no knickers! Is that O.k?”

Sarah looks around to make sure she’s not overheard she fumbles through her phone finding ‘Sharon Mbl’ in her contact list. She’s used this fictitious name before in case her husband went through her phone looking for evidence of her infidelities. She rings the number but it goes straight to voicemail “F**K!”

Chapter twenty-one

“I want to build Jack a tree house” Says Glen sadly “but she don’t want him to have it, she thinks it’s too dangerous, it hurts to think that she doesn’t trust me. That I’d put him in harm’s way. I’m his dad, I wouldn’t do that.”
“I was in my back garden the other day and I looked up at the house next door and saw the daughter in her underwear” says Vellacott.
“How old is she?” asked Ryan.
“14.”
“You sick bastard, the shop don’t even open on that one for another two years…worth a f**k?"
“Certainly is mate, there’s grass on the wicket, let’s play cricket!”
“It’s odd really, Blokes love their birds to dress up as schoolgirls with pigtails and all that” says Ryan yawning “but if you fancy a real schoolgirl you’re labelled a sex offender, the point is that for a bloke to like women dressed as schoolgirls it follows that he must like real schoolgirls.”
“I agree, getting a legal bird to dress up as a schoolgirl appeals to the inner paedophile.”
“There’s a nice MDC over there” Says Marcus pointing at two women getting out of a car further down the street.
Jason looks confused “A what?”
Marcus looks at him like he’s an idiot “An MDC, Mother and Daughter Combo!”
“It’s a bit weird really when you think about it” says Ryan screwing his face up “Fantasising about having sex with the mother and the daughter, preferably at the same time and how wrong would that be? If you were them would you think that you kind of fancied having a threesome with your own mother or your own daughter for that matter?”
As they enter the guest house Glen nods to Ryan as if he needed reminding. This is never going to work, getting a stripper up to their room without Mrs. Randall finding out just isn’t going to happen. At least if they get thrown out it’s an excuse to go home.
“What shall we do have a drink or something?” says Phil looking into the bar, he sees that the metal security gate is across the bar “Oh it’s closed.”
While Phil stands there looking gormless all eyes are on Ryan.
“Phil, I really need to talk to you.”
“What about?”
Ryan pulls his best confidential face and says softly “In private.”
Phil nods confused.
Ryan points upstairs “Let’s go up to my room.”
Phil looks at Ryan then at the others who are all standing like lemons in the closed bar area.
Ryan clears his throat “I’m going to talk to Phil about something upstairs, we’ll be down in a minute” he says unconvincingly.
Phil follows Ryan out of the room looking back at the others. No one says a word. No wise cracks, nothing. He doesn’t like this, something is up. They climb the stairs and Ryan let’s them into the room. It still stinks of bad breath, feet and body odour. It obviously hasn’t been cleaned. Ryan grabs a can of deodorant and sprays it wildly holding his nose. As soon as they hear the door shut, everyone except Glen tiptoes upstairs to the room next door.
Glen feels a pang of nervous excitement as he stakes out the reception area. There is no sign of Mrs. Randall. He fiddles with envelope containing the money in his pocket looking furtively out of the window. He feels slightly awkward and embarrassed that he has actually got to ask a woman if she’s a stripper. Hopefully it will be obvious. He knows that he’s got to intercept the stripper before she can ring the doorbell. Suddenly a door opens loudly upstairs making him jump, he can hear a woman’s voice but luckily it isn’t Mrs. Randall. He looks at his watch, 3:55.
“What’s going on?” says Phil sounding a little agitated.
Ryan knows that his performance better be good otherwise he’ll blow the whole thing.
He turns to Phil who is securitizing him intensely, takes a deep breath pretends to be holding back tears and blurts “Me and Karen are on the rocks. She just text me saying it was all over, she doesn’t love me anymore. It‘s really come out of the blue, I don‘t know what I‘m going to do?””
Phil’s body language changes “IS THIS DOWN TO CROCKET? DID HE TELL JULIE WHO TOLD KAREN? I’LL F**KING KILL HIM!”
“NO MATE, NO, THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH CROCKET!” pleads Ryan despite fears that this actually might yet happen,
“Oh right” Says Phil sitting back down.
Phil seems to deflate, he sniffs and grimaces looking down at the carpet as if he’s about to reveal a deep secret “Me and you both mate, me and you both.”
Ryan’s smugness at his academy award quality performance is shattered by this bombshell.
”Eh?”
Phil looks Ryan in the eye and says in a voice no louder than a whisper “It’s like this, I don’t want to get married mate” these words make Phil feel empowered and guilty at the same time “She‘s changed so much during the planning of this f**king wedding that I really don‘t think that I can go through with it. It really makes you think if you actually really want to spend the rest of your life with this person. It makes you wonder if you really are happy or are you just going along with something that someone else wants but you don’t? To be honest I don‘t know if I want to be with her at all anymore?”
Ryan is completely shocked “Shit, I don’t know what to say” he says solemnly, his mind racing.

Glen can see a woman approaching the guesthouse. She is carrying a portable CD player. She pauses at the end of the path and looks at a piece of paper. He takes a look over his shoulder and quickly opens the door. She sees him and smiles awkwardly; as she gets closer the light illuminates her face. She’s an absolute peach with an outrageous figure. She is dressed in a silver crop top, wet look legging and a red leather jacket. He hopes that she actually is the stripper.
“Hello” she says politely “Glen?”
“Yes darling yes” he says feeling relieved.
“I’m Honey”
“Look this has to be done on the quiet, the landlady can’t find out, she already has got it in for us. Come in.”
She laughs nervously and follows him upstairs. He knocks on the door which immediately opens. They enter the room and are greeted by looks of lusty anticipation. Glen puts his finger on his lips for quiet, his eyes full of threat.
“Right you get yourself ready and then we’ll bring him in; he’s in the next room. Better not put any music on.” He points to the bathroom “You can get changed in there.”
She smiles sweetly “We need to discuss what you want me to do?”
Glen blushes “Well it depends on what is on the menu? So to speak.”
“Well, it’s fifty for a lap dance with touching, hundred for a hand job and a hundred and fifty for a blow job.”
Fat Dave screws up the corner of the bed spread “How much for a f**k?” he whimpers.
She turns to look at him “Two hundred and fifty.”
“Wait a minute” says Ryan “does that mean that if he wanted a hand job for example that it would be fifty for the lap dance and another hundred, so a hundred and fifty or does the hundred for the hand job include the lap dance?”
“I’m getting confused” laughs Pilchard.
“It would be a hundred and fifty for a lap dance and hand job” she says with a businesslike smile.
Glen claps his hands “Right, you go and get ready and by the time you come out we’ll have agreed the details.”
She smiles seductively at them and disappears into the bathroom.
“Right, as quickly as possible, what do we want?” says Glen impatiently.
Crocket shakes his head “I’m not too comfortable with watching my sister’s future husband getting it on with some random bird”
“Don’t watch then, go for a walk” says Mark pointing at the door.
“No, I mean I’m not happy with him getting it on with a bird at all. It seems wrong.”
Pilchard nudges him “Don’t spoil his last night of freedom, stuff like this is supposed to happen. Go for a walk and we’ll text you when she’s gone, that way you honestly won’t know what went down.”
Fat Dave sniggers “Went down!”
Crocket looks conflicted; he coughs, grabs his coat and skulks out of the room.
“Wait, I’ll keep you company” says Jason walking after him.
Crocket watches Jason following him and sniffs aggressively but doesn’t say anything. The door closes behind them.
“Right, that makes things a lot easier” says Glen “What do we want?”
“I’m not too sure Phil would go through with anything sexual” says Mark “could be a waste of money, plus it’s a lot of extra cash to find.”
“We’ll leave it at a lap dance then” says Marcus.
The bathroom door opens; she stands there wearing a velvet bra and a thong. They collectively catch their breath. Fat Dave grabs Vellacott’s shoulder and squeezes hard.
“GET OFF ME YOU FAT TWAT!” screams Marcus twisting away from his grip.
“Keep your f**king voice down!” hisses Glen shoving Marcus.
“We just want the lap dance babe” says Pilchard trying to sound smooth “You hide in the bathroom and we’ll go and get him.”

Ryan sits watching Phil looking mournfully out of the window. There is a knock on the door. Ryan opens the door to Glen.
“Hello boys, we’ve had an idea, come next door and we’ll tell you about it.”
Ryan tries to communicate that all is not well though a series of eyebrow movements and nods. Glen squints at him looking totally confused. Phil follows them into the other room.
Phil notices their strange expectant faces “What’s going on? Where’s Crocket and Jason?”
“They went for a walk” says Mark unconvincingly.
Phil sniffs the air “What’s that smell?”
Pilchard pulls his best nonchalant face “What smell?”
“The really strong smell of women’s perfume or is that your new aftershave brother?”
Glen puts his arm around Phil’s shoulder and leads him over to a chair “Sit down mate; we’ve got a little surprise for you.”
Phil looks at him hard “You haven’t got me a stripper have you? I don’t f**king want anything like that!”
The bathroom door opens “You don’t want anything like this?” purrs Honey standing provocatively.
Phil stares at her in disbelief “Er….well….none of you will say nothing right?”
Glen pats him on the back “You have our word mate.”
Phil turns to her and smiles “Hello” he says meekly.
“What’s your name big boy?”
“Er..Phil”
“Hello Phil, want to have some fun?”
She walks seductively towards him, flicking her hair and licking her lips. She places her foot between his legs on the chair making him flinch and touches his face “This isn’t an ordinary no touching lap dance.”
Phil looks dazed. She steps back, throws a shape then straddles him. Fat Dave starts clapping but is silenced by Glen. She leans back and raises her groin rubbing it up his chest to his face and back. With one movement her bra falls to the floor revealing perky breasts with dark brown nipples.
She leans back and looks coy “Don’t you want to touch me?”
Phil blushes and cups her breasts, squeezing them gently. She grinds her groin into his and moans. Fat Dave kicks the bed and gnashes his teeth. Ryan wishes Karen had a body like Honey, come to think of it he wishes that Helen had a body like Honey. He looks at her toned flat stomach and hopes none of the others notice that he has a raging hard on.

Crocket and Jason sit in silence in the closed bar area. They both feel uncomfortable. Jason rubs his eye. Crocket stares into space dwelling on what his sister had told him: “Keep an eye on Phil, don’t let him have lap dance.”
“I wonder what’s happening up there?” says Jason timidly.
Crocket frowns “I don’t want to know mate.”
“YOU WANT ME TO OPEN BAR?” says Mrs. Randall haughtily, her large frame suddenly appearing in front of them.
Jason jumps “Er, yes please.”
“OK THEN” she says aggressively then walks out of the room.
“She’s such a f**king misery” whispers Crocket.
They hear the unlocking of the security gate which slides open to reveal her annoyed looking face. She raises an eyebrow “WHAT CAN I GET YOU?”
Jason stands up and turns to Crocket “Would you like a beer? or something stronger?”
“Just a lager please mate, anything.”
Jason walks to the bar “Two lagers please?”
“Where is rest of your party?” she asks suspiciously.
Jason looks away “Having a rest in their rooms, they have had a long day.”

Phil smiles as her breasts rub against his face. She’s now completely naked. His hands are around her taught toned waist. The others watch enviously, Fat Dave sits down on the bed feeling feint.
She puts her mouth close to his ear “Are you hard Phil?”
He nods.
“Would you like me to do more than give you a lap dance?”
He nods. She looks at the others “He wants more.”
The others look at each other confused.
She gyrates on his lap “What would you like? You can have a hand job, a blowjob or full sex with me as long as your friends are willing to pay?”
Phil says something inaudible.
“What do want extras Phil?” asks Glen as if they are ordering food.
Phil turns to him red in the face “A blowjob, if you’re short I’ll chip in the money myself!”
Glen turns to the others “We’ve got seventy, we need another eighty.”
“No” says Ryan “we need two hundred, fifty for the lap dance and a hundred and fifty for the blowjob!”
Glen scratches his head “I don’t know if we’ve got enough”
Phil throws his wallet on the bed “Take whatever I’ve got in there.”
Honey has her hand on his groin “I want to make you feel good, I want to make you come!”
“This is going to clean me right out!” spits Ryan.
Marcus produces a wad of notes; Ryan looks at him in disbelief “Where did you get that from?”
Marcus looks at him like he’s an idiot “Cash point machine.”
Glen counts the money “Here you go two hundred quid.”
Honey smiles and takes the money stashing it in her hand bag “Ok, are you all going to watch or does Phil get a little privacy?”
“I’m going downstairs” says Glen “I don’t want to see his cock!”
They follow him out of the room, Fat Dave is the last to leave, he turns to see her undoing Phil’s jeans. He closes the door loudly in frustration.

Jason hears the heavy footsteps “I think the other guys are coming down for a drink now.”
Mrs. Randall sniffs and rolls her eyes.
Glen sticks his head in the bar and double takes when he sees Mrs. Randall “Hello, Mrs. R, right who’s having what?”
The rest of them file into the bar.
Mark looks at his phone and wonders whether to turn it on. Does he need any more grief from the pill queen? He thinks for a minute then bites the bullet. He rolls his eyes as the display flashes that he’s got seven missed calls, five text messages and a voicemail. He is about to switch the phone off again when curiosity takes over. He checks the message screen and is surprised to see that all messages are from Sarah. He plays the voicemail message feeling slightly concerned that there might be some bother with her husband. As he listens to the message his mouth drops open.
“What is it?” says Glen.
Mark holds his hand up for silence.
“LISTEN BOYS!” he says switching on the speaker phone and replaying the message “LISTEN TO THIS!”
“Mark, listen you’re in serious trouble, very serious trouble. Last night the son of the mafia boss was put in a coma by the blokes you are up here with. The mob are looking everywhere for you, you’ve got to leave town immediately. I work in the casino on the seafront, it’s owned by a bloke called Harry Clipstone. He’s mob. His son Reece was beaten up outside the Electric Mile in the early hours of this morning, the mob have got pictures of all of you from the CCTV in the Electric Mile, they have some very nasty people looking for you. They saw me dancing with you on CCTV and I was given the third degree this afternoon, I was beaten with a belt to jog my memory. The only thing I could remember was the name of the guest house you were staying in, New roses, They know where it is, they know the owner and they’re going to send some people there. You’ve got to leave town now.”
“I knew something like this would happen” says Jason, his eyes blazing “He looked dead.”
Pilchard grabs the front of Jason’s shirt “DON’T F**KING SAY THE WORD ‘DEAD’ AGAIN O.K?”
Glen pushes Pilchard away “Let go of him!” he claps his hands together and smiles trying to hide his panic “Here’s what we do guys, we go upstairs now and pack our stuff very quickly and check out of the hotel.”

Glen walks over to Mrs. Randall who has been watching them with great suspicion from behind the bar.
“Something has cropped up and we’ll be checking out in a minute, can you please prepare our bill? We’re received some bad news from home and need to leave urgently. Can you have our bill ready in ten minutes?”
“Er, yeah boy yeah but before I got to check for damage to rooms.”
“O.K, give us ten minutes and then come up” he smiles and goes back over to the others “Let’s do this!”

Phil has never felt pleasure like this before, he looks down at Honey’s face, he’s never had his dick sucked so hard before. He looks at her naked body, the curve of her back, her shapely bottom.
He closes his eyes and cries out “OH MY GOD, THAT FEELS SO GOOD!”
To his horror the door opens and Glen, Mark, Pilchard and Crocket rush in.
“WHAT THE F**K!? GET OUT OF HERE!” screams Phil.
Mark tries not to see anything but accidently sees Phil’s erection “DUDE” he says looking away.
Phil covers his rapidly deflating member, he looks at Honey and shakes his head in disbelief but she doesn’t look that bothered by their interruption.
Glen frantically throws his clothes into a bag “SORRY MATE BUT WE’VE GOT TO GET OUT OF HERE, NOW!”
“WHY?”
Glen looks at Honey “I’ll tell you in the van, get packed mate, quick as you can.”
Phil turns to her “Sorry about this, that was great by the way.”
She smiles at him and starts getting dressed. Despite their panic they can’t fail to take in her glorious naked form.
“How are we going to get Honey out of here without Mrs. Randall finding out?” says Phil.
Glen shrugs his shoulders “It don’t matter no more.”

Mrs. Randall opens the front door to the three men, her mouth dropping open “Oliver?”
He smiles “Hello Mum, long time no see.”
She stumbles back shocked and tries to shut the door. He grabs the door handle “No Mum, I’ve changed. I don’t work for Harry Clipstone anymore, I quit. No more of that life for me.”
“YOU’RE NOT BLARDY TELLING TRUTH! YOU TELL ME ALL THAT BEFORE THEN I FIND GUN IN MY PANTRY!” she lurches towards him and pushes him “YOU GO, GO NOW, YOU’RE NO GOOD OLIVER, I DON’T WANT TO SEE YOU!”
He smiles then grabs her hair and drags her screaming into the guesthouse. Solis flinches “That’s your Mum Oliver you can’t..”
Hampton spins round to face him, his expression silencing any further comment.
The couple leaving their room upstairs freeze, the man pushes his wife back into the room and gently closes the door. He puts his finger to his lips for silence and pulls out his phone. He walks into the bathroom and closes the door “Police please? It’s an emergency.”

Ryan has never felt so scared in all his life “Those dumb motherf**kers, the f**king underworld? We’re innocent, we didn’t lay a finger on that Reece kid, it was Glen and Pilchard, shit, when it happened me and Mark were round that nutty birds house!”
“As I said to Paul earlier, I appreciate that they saved me from being badly beaten up but you can’t inflict that level of violence on a human being and expect them to be o.k. afterwards, it’s not like in a cartoon!”
There is a knock on the door. They freeze, looking at each other terrified.
“It’s Glen, open up!”
Relieved Ryan opens the door. Glen sticks his head in the room “Come on, we’re leaving” he looks at Jason and heads downstairs.
They all follow him into the reception area struggling with their bags.
Mrs. Randall is nowhere to be seen.
“WHAT THE F**K IS GOING ON ANYWAY?” says Phil angrily as Honey waves and slips out of the door.
Mark plays him the message.
Phil looks at Pilchard and Glen “You stupid, stupid twats!” he says slowly unable to take it in, suddenly the enormity of their actions hits home “I’M F**KING GETTING MARRIED NEXT WEEK AND NOW WE’VE GOT THE F**KING HEAVY MOB AFTER US!”
All eyes are on Glen and Pilchard who glare back “We didn’t mean for this for this to happen” pleads Pilchard trying to keep his cool “the bloke was going to do Jason over, we stopped him.”
“This is insane” says Phil “You’re way over the limit to drive and its two hundred plus miles” He rubs his tired eyes thinking of the hell that will be released when Julie finds out about this.
“Funnily enough this shock has sobered me right up bruv!” says Pilchard trying in vain to inject some humor.
“Where is she?” says Glen walking into the bar.
Three men are standing at the bar; they turn to look at him. Something is wrong, very wrong. The air is sucked out of the room as the largest of them takes a step towards Glen.
The doorbell rings “RUN” shouts Glen tipping a table over into their path “GO THE BACKWAY!”

Glen charges down the corridor towards Mrs. Randall’s private quarters hoping that the door isn’t locked, the others follow close behind. He sees her body lying on the floor. They rush past her and through kitchen door into the cold night air, stumbling through the darkness terrified. There is an intense flash as they are blinded by a security light.
Mark realizes that the back gate is padlocked “THROW YOUR BAGS OVER THE FENCE, WE’VE GOT TO JUMP IT” he effortlessly bounds over the six foot wooden fence. They all franticly try to scale the fence while hurling their bags over the top. As Marcus goes over he looks over his shoulder to see the three goons running towards them. Fat Dave and Jason are still within reach as the goons get to the fence. Hampton grabs Jason’s leg but loses his grip and bumps into Solis. Jason scrambles over the fence falling hard onto the ground on the other side. Fat Dave is halfway over the fence when Lemerex yanks his legs. Dave screams holding onto the top of the fence for dear life.
“DAVE!” shouts Ryan.
Glen and Phil try and hoist Dave over the fence. He screams and disappears from view. He is punched and kicked by Solis and Lemerex.
Hampton tries to get over the fence, silhouetted by the security light. Glen punches him in the face knocking him back into the garden “HAVE THAT YOU TWAT!”
Solis tries to get over and his attacked by Pilchard and Mark. Hampton starts kicking the gate which doesn’t look like it’s going to hold for long. A dog starts barking noisily in an adjacent garden. Ryan has never been so frightened in all his life. He picks up his bag and stands well clear of the fence.
Glen turns to Pilchard “GET THE VAN!”
Pilchard rummages through his pockets “I CAN’T FIND THE KEYS!”
Glen throws another punch at Solis “YES YOU F**KING CAN!”
Pilchard checks his back pocket and holds the keys aloft with a stupid look on his face.
Glen pushes him hard “GET THE F**KING VAN, BRING IT ROUND THE FRONT”
Big holes are appearing in the fence. Everyone seems to be screaming. Fat Dave crawls unnoticed back towards the guesthouse; he leans on a fencepost for support and gets to his feet. He limps towards the door looking over his shoulder. The goons are still oblivious to his escape. He makes it into the guesthouse and locks the door hoping that there aren’t more of them waiting inside. Mrs. Randall is still sprawled across the floor. He checks for signs of breathing.
Hampton is swinging wildly at them with a cosh through a hole in the fence. His cronies are trying to lift out a fence panel. Crocket picks up a discarded milk bottle and throws it through the gap in the fence, the bottle explodes on Solis’s face and he falls against the fence screaming. Ryan is behind Glen and Mark, their sleeves flapping wildly as they rain punches on Solis until he falls back and crashes onto the ground. Ryan tries to see what is happening to Dave, he dares to get closer to the hole in the fence then jumps back.
“DAVE’S GONE!” shouts Ryan “HE MUST HAVE GONE BACK INSIDE!”
“LET’S GET OUT OF HERE!” shouts Phil running down the alley “FOLLOW ME.” They rush after him down the alley, doing a right at the end. They can see the street in front of them. The goons can be heard smashing through the fence and tearing after them. They sprint to the front of the guest house “WHERE THE F**K IS PILCHARD?” screams Phil standing under the orange glow of a street light.
The door to the New Roses opens and Fat Dave limps out, blood dripping from his mouth “LET’S GET OUT OF HERE!”
The Van comes screeching down the street, lights blazing at full beam. Hampton and Lemerex charge towards them. Pilchard mounts the kerb and tries to run them over. Hampton jumps over a low wall into a guest house front garden. The wing mirror catches Lemerex on the shoulder so hard that the glass shatters sending him crashing to the floor. Pilchard swerves and comes to a grinding halt in front of them. They slide the door open and clamber in with hearts racing.
Glen treads on an empty beer bottle and falls on top of Ryan “F**K IT!”
“EVERYBODY IN?” shouts Pilchard taking a quick headcount “RIGHT, LET’S GET THE F**K OUT OF HERE!”

The van violently lurches away from the kerb making them hang on for dear life.
Hampton looks at Lemerex rolling on the ground clutching his shoulder howling in pain “GET UP, GO TO THE CAR!”
Lemerex and Hampton rush over to the BMW. Harry Clipstone sits in the back looking irate.
“WHAT THE F**K JUST HAPPENED?” screams Clipstone punching the door angrily.
“WE’LL GET THEM” says Hampton starting the car “THEY HAD MORE FIGHT IN THEM THAN WE ANTICIPATED.”
“YOU BETTER GET THEM” spits Clipstone “THEY KILLED MY BOY.”
“WHICH WAY? WHICH WAY?” screams Pilchard as they get to the end of the street.
“LEFT” shouts Marcus.
“JESUS THAT WAS CLOSE!” says Phil shaking with adrenalin “You O.K Dave? What happened?”
“Two of them punched and kicked me before you lot distracted them. I crawled back to the house and locked the back door.”
“But are you O.K?” repeats Phil.
Fat Dave winces rubbing his mouth “One of my teeth is loose and if I haven’t broken a rib it will be a miracle.”
Phil “We’ve got to get you to the hospital.”
“I agree” says Glen “But not round here.”
“We’re got to get as far away from here as possible before we even think of stopping” says Mark “How are we doing for petrol?”
Pilchard looks at the gauge “Just over half a tank.”
Ryan lets go of the headrest in front of him, his fingers sore from gripping it so tightly. There is an air of relief that they’ve escaped from such a horrific situation.
Phil coughs nervously “We’ll just keep going until we’re sure we’re safe. You’ll start seeing signs for the motorway in about fifteen minutes.”
Ryan notices a silver BMW driving erratically two cars behind them. He goes cold recognizing Hampton and Lemerex “THEY’RE BEHIND US! THOSE F**kERS ARE BEHIND US!”
Everyone turns round “WHAT ARE THEY DRIVING?” shouts Mark.
Ryan squints “SILVER BEEMA”
“WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO?” screams Phil “I’M SUPPOSED TO BE GETTING MARRIED FOR F**KS SAKE!”
The traffic in front slows as they approach the traffic lights which have just gone red.
“PILCHARD!” shouts Glen as they screech to a halt narrowly miss slamming into a stationary Volvo.
“GET OUT AND TRY TO STOP THEM!” shouts Clipstone.
Lemerex opens the door and charges towards the van, his shoulder killing him.
“ONE OF THEM IS COMING AFTER US ON FOOT!” screams Marcus.
Mark looks round “LOCK THE DOORS!”
Jason looks down at the locking button on the passenger door, pressing it down just as Lemerex tries to open it, their eyes meet. Lemerex shouts something and tries to break the window. Suddenly the van lurches to the right into the path of the oncoming traffic. Lemerex turns to run back to the car.
“MOTHERF**KER!” screams Pilchard slamming on the breaks and putting the van into high speed reverse slamming into Lemerex with a sickening thud.
“KILL US NOW MOTHERF**KER!” Laughs Pilchard manically as Lemerex disappears screaming under the van “KILL US NOW YOU C**T!”
Pilchard rams the gearstick into first and drives off at speed. Ryan looks out of the back window at Lemerex lying prone on the ground. Oncoming traffic swerve out of their way, Pilchard throws the van around the corner and guns it down the street.
“ARE THEY FOLLOWING US?” yells Pilchard .
“F**KING HELL! F**KING HELL!” shouts Crocket “YOU JUST F**KING KILLED THAT GEEZER!”
“ARE THEY FOLLOWING US?” repeats Pilchard.
“I DON’T THINK SO BUT THERE WAS TWO OTHER GEEZERS IN THE CAR.”
The lights change but none of the vehicles move. A woman gets out of a Range Rover and kneels down next to Lemerex.
“F**K IT!” hisses Oliver Hampton as he looks over his shoulder and reverses angrily.
Harry Clipstone shakes his head in disbelief. The woman looks down at Lemerex’s blood splattered face, he whimpers and coughs blood as a Silver BMW speeds past the stationary cars and races after the minibus.

Chapter twenty two

“OK, Calm down and tell me what happened?” says Geoff Wain standing in hallway of New Roses.
“MY BLARDY NO GOOD SON OLIVER DID THIS!” says Mrs. Randall angrily.
“What’s your son’s full name?”
“He calls himself Oliver Hampton, he work for that blardy crook Harry Clipstone.”
Geoff’s jaw drops open.
“There’s someone down in the back garden” says PC Bennett.
Solis sees the back door open and a copper walking towards him. He is still seeing double. He tries to stand and make his escape but falls back cursing.
“What were your guests driving?” asks Geoff knowing that he’s got to act fast.
“DIDN’T SEE, NO.”
“Did your son give chase in a vehicle?”
“DIDN’T SEE, NO.”
Geoff looks at the couple of hotel guests who are comforting Mrs. Randall “Did you see what anyone involved in this incident was driving?”
The man nods “They were in a light blue minibus, the others were in a BMW, I think it was silver.”
Geoff reaches for his radio “Thank you madam, Bravo tango alpha to dispatch? We need to deploy the armed response unit.”

“Take this turn off for the motorway” says Phil “Jesus Christ, what a f**king mess this is? What am I going to tell Julie?”
“We’ve got bigger problems at the moment brother” says Pilchard shaking his head “Are them bastards still following us?”
“I can’t see them” says Ryan “I think we’ve lost them.”
“Are we safe back home?” says Phil “I mean they could send people after us. They could turn up at the wedding!”
Pilchard laughs “They wouldn’t know where we lived!”
“What about the register at the hotel? We all wrote our names and addresses in that. If they get hold of that we’re f**ked!”
“They won’t get hold of the register!” says Glen hoping Phil is wrong.
Phil turns to face him “How do you know? How do you know that we aint going to get hunted down like f**king dogs?”
“F**king hell” hisses Ryan “What are we going to do?”
Oliver Hampton watches the needle hit ninety. He can see their van in the distance; he overtakes recklessly narrowly missing an oncoming taxi.
“F**K, F**K, F**K. THEY’RE BEHIND US!” screams Jason.
Pilchard looks over his shoulder in time to see the BMW gaining on them; he accelerates hoping that the road is clear ahead. Suddenly the engine cuts out.
“F**KING HELL! WE’VE STALLED!” yells Pilchard as the van loses momentum.
Glen looks out of the back window to see the BMW about to ram them from behind “LOOK OUT!”
The impact shunts the van across three lanes into the hard shoulder. Pilchard tries to keep control but the van grinds against the crash barrier sending sparks flying in all directions.
There is an eerie silence as the van grinds to a halt and the BMW screeches to a halt behind them. They are completely blocking one lane of traffic, immediately creating a bottle neck. Horns sound and headlights flash.
Glen looks down at the rusty fire extinguisher mounted under seat in front. He rips off the straps and grabs it.
“THERE’S ONLY TWO OF THEM” rallies Pilchard “THERE’S NINE OF US! LET’S END THIS NOW!”
Harry Clipstone jumps out and runs over to the van “YOU F**KING KILLED MY SON!” he screams reaching into his jacket. Hampton appears next to him roaring like an animal.
“ARM YOURSELVES WITH BEER BOTTLES!” shouts Glen as he slides open the van door and jumps out into the cold night air followed by the others, their eyes wide with terror. A Corsa is stuck behind them indicating to move into the other lane. Time suddenly slows; everyone is in motion either running into the fray or trying to escape. A beer bottle hits Hampton on the side of the head. He stumbles and crashes into Clipstone knocking him onto the bonnet of the BMW.
Hampton gets unsteadily to his feet and rushes towards them “I’LL F**KING KILL YOU ALL!”
He lunges at Marcus but trips “SPASLA JEVERLADRA. SPASLA MENTRA JEVERLADRA.”
Hampton grabs hold of Jason and punches him wildly. Jason’s eyes bulge with terror, blood flies in all directions. Glen sees the light catch the blade and realises that Jason is being repeatedly stabbed.
“JASON!” screams Glen rushing towards him.
Hampton grabs Mark’s shirt dragging him into Glen’s path. Mark tries to punch Hampton but is slashed from his ear to the tip of his nose with the knife. He screams in agony and falls against the van. Hampton looks at Glen like a man possessed. Traffic speeds past inches away from them. Glen hits him in the face with the butt of the fire extinguisher; Hampton slashing wildly with the knife. Glen sidesteps the blade and hits him again on the side of the head with the extinguisher, dropping him to one knee. Jason is slumped on the ground convulsing, bleeding heavily from a series of puncture marks, the color draining from his body. Glen smashes Hampton again; the knife drops out of his hand. A car horn sounds and Hampton is illuminated in the vehicles full beam as he staggers disorientated into the path of furniture truck. There is a screech of brakes and Hampton is propelled through the air like a rag doll. The truck nearly rolls then stops dead next Hampton’s body fifty yards away.
Glen picks up the knife and looks at the deep oozing wound on Marks face “Bloody hell, Mark mate.”
Mark’s eyes are shut tight as he groans in agony; his fingers touch the wound with morbid fascination.
Suddenly there is a flash of light and a loud explosive noise making everyone duck. Pilchard slumps against the minibus clutching his arm in shock.
“HE’S GOT A F**KING GUN, PILCHARD’S BEEN SHOT!”!” screams Glen “GET OUT OF SIGHT!”
Phil rushes towards his brother “PAUL!”
Glen grabs Phil and drags him behind the van with the others. Ryan looks at Jason’s body but there doesn’t seem any point in taking a bullet for someone who is already dead.
“YOU F**KING BASTARDS!” screeches Clipstone walking over to Pilchard who has fallen into a heap against the front wheel “YOU KILLED MY SON!” He points the gun at Pilchard’s head “NOW YOU’RE GOING TO F**KING DIE!”
“THE POLICE ARE HERE!” shouts Marcus “THE POLICE ARE HERE!”
Suddenly two Police Vans screech to halt next to them.
“DROP THE GUN, DROP THE F**KING NOW OR WE’LL TAKE YOU DOWN!” screams John Hanton holding an automatic weapon as he rushes towards Clipstone. Four more offices surround the boys adopting combat stances” LAY DOWN ON THE GROUND WITH YOUR HANDS ON THE BACK OF YOUR HEAD!”
Clipstone sighs and raises the handgun submissively. Pilchard looks at Hanton as he closes in “I SAID DROP THE F**KING GUN, NOW! LAY IT DOWN ON THE GROUND NOW!”
Harry Clipstone laughs. What has he got to live for? His son is a vegetable and he has a long stretch in prison to look forward to. He begins to lower the gun “O.K, O.K” he looks at the animal who beat his son whimpering against the van, how can he allow this vermin to live? He looks at Hanton who continues to bark orders at him. He’d love to shut that little yapping dog up as well. The gun feels heavy in his hand as he lowers it slowly to the floor. Suddenly every fibre screams ‘No’. He always wanted to go out like Butch and Sundance. He stands up and points the gun at Pilchard. Hanton fires twice, two shots to the chest. Clipstone drops, dead before he hits the floor.
Hanton is shaking with adrenaline, he remembers what Neddy told him ‘you’ll never forget your first kill, it will haunt you for life but you did what you had to do, what you were trained to do’.
“He was going to kill me!” sobs Pilchard holding his arm “I owe you a beer.”
“You don’t understand” pleads Phil as someone kneels behind him and frisks him roughly “We’re the victims.”
Glen smiles as his hands are brought down from his head to behind his back and he feels the handcuffs being applied “They don’t know who’s who yet”.
Ryan looks at Clipstone’s corpse and swallows hard. This is totally surreal, what the f**k just happened? An officer crouches down next to Jason and says something into his radio, another approaches Mark.
“John, it’s me mate” whimpers Mark as Hanton kneels down next to him.
Hanton winks at him and looks over his shoulder “GUV?”

“And that’s the lot really” says Phil staring into space “that’s how we ended up in this mess.”
He takes a sip of water and looks around the interview room “Any news on my brother?”
“He’s being operated on as we speak, expected to make a full recovery” says Inspector Bass.
“What about Jason Lew?”
“He’s in a critical but stable condition, they’ll keep me informed of his progress.”
“What about Dave and Mark?”
“Mr Tullett and Mr Oakley? They are also at the hospital receiving treatment.”
“Will they be alright?”
“I don’t think their injuries were life threatening.”
“No, I mean are they protected from further attack?”
“They’re under armed guard.”
“Oh”
Phil’s mobile vibrates in his pocket “Can I get this? It’s my future wife.”
Inspector Bass nods.
Her shrill voice fills his head “Hello Phil babe, are you having a good time?”
He takes a sharp intake of breath “Not really, there’s been a spot of bother.”

THE END