I used tae go tae school wi this daft wee cunt called Wazzy. That wisnae his real name, mind. His real name wis Stewart Watson, bit we aw called im Wazzy. He pure fuckin hated it, bit that jist made it stick. Right pally we wur. He used tae pure pish hissel at aw ma daft patter when there wis a crowd ae us hingin aboot thegither up the park. Pure pishcase ah wis back then. Still um. Every cunt doon the Broomy Tavern says so anyhows.
Anywyes, efter we leaves the school we’re aw oan the ol’ Thatcher rock ‘n’ roll show an he decides he wants tae become a helicopter pilot. Fuck knows where that came fae fur fucksakes. Ah mean Springburn’s no exactly hoachin wi cunts wi thoan landin pads in their back dryin greens. Anywyes, we aw took the pish oot ae im, especially me. Didnae like it, bit, fucksakes he wanted tae be a fuckin helicopter pilot! Least the daft cunt could’ve done wis keep a sense a’ humour an that. Efter a wee while he couldnae even come doon the pub wi us even though he got a wee joab oan the buildin sites cos he was ayeways saving up fur lessons an that. Ah mean, fair enough it wis his ain money an that bit ah pure tellt the cunt straight there an then: He wis the only wan earnin, so’s the least he could dae wis staun us aw a coupla bevvies doon the Broomy. No even every night or nothin, bit maybe a coupla times a week, gie us aw a break fae drinkin in the bushes in Springy park. Did he listen? Did he fuck. Lik talkin tae a brick fuckin wa’.
Anywyes, efter a year or two he passes his daft wee tests an that an gets a joab up in Aberdeen, takin roughneck cunts ower tae they oil rigs an that, so we aw jist thought good riddance. Ah mean, he’s offski, makin a fuckin mint an ah wis still huvvin tae keep oot the wye ay the polis wi a Buckie hauf boatle durin the day cos ma auld man kept kickin us oot, even when it wis pishin doon. Then somethin funny happened cos ma maw an his maw were talkin wan day an the upshot ay this cosy wee conversation wis thit ah got offered a wee joab up in Aberdeen right oot the blue. Ah wis tae be workin fur a wee newsagent, an every day ah wid pit loads a papers an dirty scud books and magazines oan his helicopter an he’d take it ower tae aw they stupit cunts oan the rigs. Ah wisnae fur it, but ma auld man tellt us that if ah didnae take it he’d knock fuck ootae us fur weeks, so whit could ah dae bit go fur it?
Me an the bold fella still wurnae back tae bein best pals or that, jist a wee nod hello in the moarnin an that, bit he said he wid come oot wi me tae we got stocious wi the sheepshaggers ah hud palled up wi up there. He wis daein awright fur hissel right enough. Drove a wee sportscar, hud aw the flash threads an aw. He wis supposed tae be wappin the meat up some right nice wee Irish lassie an aw. Ah only seen her fae a distance a coupla times, bit she seemed a tidy wee ride.
Anywyes, a wee while had passed, a week or two like, nae mair than three, an ah hudnae seen him. So ah asks where he wis, an this other helicopter pilot, English cunt called...cannae mind. Mighta been Trevor, but don’t quote us oan that. Anywyes, the English cunt called whiteverthefuck says he’s chucked it cos it turns oot the wee Irish bit wis a right wee hoor an wis shaggin her wye roon maist ae the East Coast. Ah laughed lik fuck, bit a felt a wee bit sorry fur the poor cunt. Wan night when we were oot gettin pished ah even thought aboot askin him if he wanted tae come an aw, but then ah forgot. Ye know how it is.
A few weeks efter that the daft English cunt called whitever the fuck he wis called tells us that Wazzy’s away ower tae Hawaii tae take tourists oan sightseeing trips in a helicopter. Fuckin Hawaii! Fuckin Magnum P.I’s fuckin big black cunt mate or whut? Fuckin mental so it wis by ra way. I thought, whit’s that glaikit cunt gonnae dae ower in Hawaii? Cunt used tae go bright rid in the sun in the summer. He’ll jist fuckin’ prune up. Serve the stupit bastart right if he got thoan skin cancer. Fuckin Hawaii. There wis me gonnae ask him oot tae get pished wi me an ma two sheepshagger pals an aw.
Anywyes, aboot five years efter that an a wis back at ma maw’s cos the auld man hud kicked it, an ah’m readin the Record an that an lo an behold, the bold cunt hissel turns up in there. Turns oot he went an merried some American hoor that used tae read the news oan the Hawaii telly, then she gets wan ae they stupit talk shows. Ye know they fuckin mental things oan the telly wi aw they daft cunts greetin aboot shaggin their wee sister an how their da wis always pumpin their dug? Wan ae they things. So it dis awright, then it goes aw ower America an afore ye know it she’s rollin in the foldin. Ye could used tae see it ower here oan wan ae they channels away at the back ae Sky. Ah watched it wance masel. It wis shite, bit there ye go. I mean, ah’m no sayin’ anyhin against the bint, bit she looked kinna Chinesey tae me oan the telly an that, so ye could tell there wis fuckin trouble brewin fur him, nae doubt. Anywye, him an hur wis supposed tae be aw hearts an flooers, an that’s pure shite at the best ah times.
Sure enough, few years later, the daft cunt wis away flyin his stupit wee helicopter, win’t he, when she becomes the big-I-am an divorces im pronto like cos she’s supposed tae be nippin aboot wi some cunt that’s a right fuckin big shot in thoan Hollywood. So the bold cunt hissel goes an gets gied twenty million dollars jist tae fuck off an leave hur an the high heidyin alane tae shag in peace. Twenty mill fucksakes! She musta bin some ride, bit ah’ve heard that aboot Chinky burds. Still, Chinky or Irish, it wis the same auld, same auld, know whit ah mean? Ah mean, obviously the stupit bastart wisnae measurin up at aw, wis he?
Anywyes, ah’m back up styin at ma maw’s a few years eftur that - jist eftur that fuckin’ evil witch fae hell chucks us oot fur the last time, an it turns oot thit he took his twenty mill an boat some land oan thoan strip in Las Vegas an buys a few helicopters an starts takin tourists up an doon Las Vegas an thoan Grand Canyon an some fuckin hydro-lectric power station dam, cannae mind whit it’s called. Fuck knows whit ye’d want tae dae that fur. Ah mean, a power station an a big hole in the grun? Haud. Me. Back. Fuck knows how, bit efter a wee while he wis makin a fuckin mint. Stupit fuckin Americans.
So ma maw an his maw were always right tight an ma maw says his maw wis movin oot tae some big hoose oot in Bearsden, Blanefield, cannae mind where. Might huv been Milngavie bit don’t quote us oan that. Wherever it wis she wis movin tae, they were aw stuck up posh cunts that lived there. Ah mind wan time when ah wis dippin this wee bint in Drumchapel an ma bus went through a wee bit ae thoan Bearsden. Big German motors everywhere. Cunts are fuckin drippin in dosh. Even the weans. Fuck knows how, ah wis livin jist doon the road an ah couldnae get a break if ah jumped ootta fifth flair windae.
Anywyes, reason he was hoachin wi the foldin an could buy his wee maw a big hoose wis cos he’s jist went an punted his business on thoan fuckin stocks an shares market an made a hunner an fifty million dollars. A hunner an fifty million, fucksakes! Ye could buy Cellic fur a hunner an fifty million! Ye could buy Cristiano Ronaldo or thoan wee cunt Kaka fur a hunner an fifty million! Mibbe no these days, right enough. Back then it wis a pure total fortune, mind.
So ah thought, fuck it, nowt tae lose, an ah gets his maw’s new address fae ma maw cos ah wiz gonna write tae im say, listen, mind you used tae listen tae me tell ye aboot Saturday’s gemme on a Monday at ra school cos I could get a lift-ower then an see it fur nothin, an ye loved me tellin ye aw that aboot aw the goals an everythin, ah mean, ye could easy spare fifty or sixty mill an no even miss it, cos Cellic were strugglin lik fuck then an the Orcs were daein thur nine-in-a-row an that an things were fuckin desperate. Then ah thoat, Fuck im. If he cannae come tae that conclusion whenever he looks at the fuckin league table himsel then it’s a sad fuckin day. An frankly efter that ah thought that wis me an him done wi wan another fur good. He could greet aw he fuckin wanted next time we met, ah’d jist be lik Fuck Ye, ya selfish bastard.
Course a right few years later, it turns oot he gets back wi thoan hoor he merried in the furst place cos the Hollywood big-shot producer or director or whiteverthefuck couldnae take it when she sterts tae dae better than him an that. So dis the bold fella no jist stert puntin some ae his ain money intae thon shite telly programmes. Didnae act in them or anyhin, didnae write the scripts or that, jist put the money up fur them or somehin. Ah mean, as faur as ah kin see, that’s the hard bit, the actin an the camera work an the makin the stuff up. Any cunt kin jist stick their haun in their pocket. Jist an excuse tae rip aff the good cunts. Anywye, dis that, sterts makin even mair money. Sells his fuckin company tae some big Hollywood studio fur seven hunner fuckin million dollars. Seven hunner fuckin million! Course, the daft cunt disnae get it in cash, dis he? Fucked it up again, din’t he? Gets it in fuckin shares, no yer actual foldin. Then, the game’s nearly a fuckin bogey cos there’s this big fuckin crash an he losses four hunner million in wan fuckin day. Wan fuckin day! Might ah been a week, noo ah think aboot it, bit still. If that ever happened tae me ah’d be lik, get tae fuck wi yer daft wee bits ah paper that mean fuck aw. Gies the fuckin wedge, nae excuses. Daft bastard. No got the fuckin brains he wis born wi. Cunts jist took his troosers doon and rammed im up the jacks.
A wee while efter that, an ah always mind this cos it happened right eftur ma
forty-first birthday an ah wis in the jile like for somethin thit wis basically aboot Fuck Aw, except the evil witch fae hell ah used tae live wi wis giein it aw fuckin this an fuckin aw that aboot the wean an ended up jist beggin tae be tellt wance an fur aw. Anywyes, ah’m lyin in ma pit wi some fuckin junkie oan the bunk neath mine screamin aboot some doin he’s jist hud an there’s a story oan the news: No the big news wi the English cunts tellin it, but the wee stupit news wi they daft Glesga cunts tellin it. Has the stupit cunt no jist went an crashed his helicopter in the desert? They thought he wis deid, bit when they fun im turns oot he didnae die, but hud his leg chopped aff. The left wan ah think, jist below the knee. His daft tarted up Chinky hoor wis pure lappin it up so she wis, rollin oot his four wee weans kiddin oan they were aw worried bit ye could tell she wis thinkin How the fuck is that cunt gonnae be able to shag me when he’s no even got a leg tae balance oan? Probly wullnae bother hur. Nane ae the weans even look like im. Wan ay the poor wee cunts wis called Kumiko. Fuckin Kumiko! Every time ye wanted tae shout at it, ye’d be like, Whit’s that fuckin wean called again? An then ye’d jist end up bootin’ it wan. Ah mean, it’s no even the wean’s fault, it’s the maw’s fault fur giein it such a stupit name, and the da’s fur puttin up wi it. It’s well sayin he’s left Springburn.
Ah wis pishin’ masel fur ages aboot his leg right enough. Even when ah stoaped, ah couldnae help it an kept pishin masel again. Then ah thought, shouldnae laugh at the poor cunt. Ah mean he’s loast his fuckin leg. Nae fuckin tennis lessons fur him fae noo oan. Wulnae be able tae fly his helicopter or fuck aw noo. Ah widnae huv thought so anywyes. I mean, aw that money an stuff. No goat a leg. Jist shows ye.
