The Brave One
I’m bloody hungry layin here tonight. Not been a bad night thou Sis, went in this pub, called The Golden Goose, and met these lads. Had a few bevvies. Don’t worry I was careful. We got street-wise dint we Sis? Not like when we were 15 and damn silly. And I know sometimes blokes can seem alright, jus friendly, and then you suddenly notice sommat.
Remember in that pub when we was on holiday, and that short geezer said he was on a business trip and just wanted some company? I really didn’t think he was seriously trying to pull us, I mean, he weren’t givin it the sleeze or the lines. Sure he was happy to chat to some women, that’s all. And then he bought us them drinks, and we knew with one look at each other they were triples. And geezer had some half-baked plan to get us to go to a club with him.
We didn’t need to say owt did we, we jus necked them triples (ta very much), and got the fuck out.
For some reason I was thinking bout this tiny thing that happened the other night. I was out the back of this pub with Erfin, and he handed me the dregs of a smoke – “Do you want the rest? It’s a brave one” – he said.
Oh, aye. I thought. Least sommat is.
There’s poetry in them wet streets outside, which are always the same each night. A different car park or backstreet. Windscreen wipers exposing a new town, a new city, and yet the lights and the shapes don’t change. The accent alters slightly, but not so much.
I feel like an adventurer. Out into the strange wild world. But it in’t that strange. It’s odd jus bein stuck with yer self all the time, you think about all this stuff. You still think about food and smokes, and sneakin into a wahm pub for a beer and a packet of crisps, you still think about your mates back home doin the same shit they do. And you still think about Dem Boys. But not so much. Or at least in a different way. Perspective in’t it?
I’m not so educated as my friends, and I didn’t have so much goin for my life growing up. But we ended up in the same place. They all speak better than me, and they learnt stuff at school. But they don’t know no better. Sometimes feel like I know better than them, because I see them, from outside of their littuw bubble.
They accept me, cos I give them credibility. I’m the ruff edge.
But they’re stuck in their gossipy, druggy lives. They keep telling me what I should do about this boy and that boy, cos it gives them sommat to talk about. But they’re talkin about nuffin. And I in’t gonna take their advice, cos they just want drama. I’ve had my dignity bruised, I’m not going back for more. Erfin made his bed, he can fucking lie in it and be miserable.
I in’t gonna be a handsome prince and rescue him. He can only save himself.
*Sigh* Sorry Sis, I keep on about this. Jus tryin to vent ya know. I’ve said nowt about owt. I hope you are loved-up as fuck, and happy to be alive. Cos you properly deserve it.
Little Rue xx