would of anyone, ain't my fault is it, do you know what I'm saying, not making like Mother Teresa, but that's how I am.brbrIt weren't like you realised anyway, not at the time, not that first Monday morning. It weren't like you seen it all then and there when Poppy come stropping in them doors with her six-inch
skirt and her twelve-inch heels; it weren't like you seen it all laid out, the whole fucking shit of the next six months, like a trailer, do you know what I'm saying, the whole fucking shit of the rest of our lives, which the way I'm feeling, do you know what I'm saying, most probably come down to the same.brbrPoppy Shakespeare, that was her name. She got long shiny hair like an advert. `Shakespeare?' I said when Tony told me. `Fuckin'ell bet she's smart.'brbrTony smiled at the carpet, like this flicker of a smile, like a lighter
running low on fluid.brbr`So what am I s'posed to show her?' I said. `I don't know nothing, do I,' I said.brbr`Just show her around the place,' he said. `Introduce her to people, that sort of thing.'brbr`Nah,' I said and I shaken my head. `Ain't up to it, Tony. Sorry; I'm not. Does my head in, that sort of thing. What you asking me for?' I said.brbrBut Jesus, if you'd of heard him go on! Weren't nobody else would do, he said. Weren't nobody else in the world, he said, not Astrid Arsewipe -- couldn't argue with that -- not Middle-Class Michael, not no one at all, alive or dead or both or neither, known as much about dribbling as I did.brbrbrb2. How Tony Balaclava got a point/bbrbrFact is I been dribbling since before I was even born. My mum was a dribbler and her mum as well, 'cept she never seen her hardly, grown up in a home while they scooped out bit@!úáG®{ÿ¾Û€
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