Big drinking breeds arguments, he finds, but he and they are all at it every week. Dark drinks and translucent drinks. Bitter swallow drinks and sugar syrup drinks. Smell of smoke and real cold air, bracing against cold London Novemeber to fill himself with hot tobacco smoke. Big jumper, hood up. On the night they’re usually just sitting around, chewing the cud, shooting the shit. Yes there are women in their group, but Saturday night is a split night when the boys are in the city.
-Bet me
-Alright
-Fifty quid
-No
-Ten
-Alright, what?
-I can get on the roof
-Good bet. Alright
-Fuck, ok.
He went via the window ledge, the hanging basket brace, the ridge that runs between floors which offers a fingertip’s grip, the next window ledge, a foot secure, a grip hold by the next window and then, damn, so obvious, the two overflow pipes sticking out. Both hands, pulled up, got a foot to walk up the window edging and make a grab for the roof. And he makes it. He’s an observant one if he started off having seen those pipes, or otherwise he’s a true cheeky bastard. He pulled himself up, and could not get down, alert the landlord for a hand and after it’s done he
- Right lads you’re fuckin’ barred. Oppit.

-Ten quid mate.
-That was worth it!

Syrup drinks shot and shandies.
Football and margaritas for laughs. Get inside and whirl, margaritas and syrup drink shots, dark plastic scrum on the floor, dance dance.
Dance dance baby fuck, come on baby I think you want it. Yes, yes you does, so he got lucky. Hood up, taxi fast, make it quicker, grabs and pulls and saliva. Take off clothes, grabs and fingers, makes it happen, she’s here and up and go go go. Good. Hair and shit, stink sweat and a couple of condoms on the floor but she’s still squirming, jaw clenching, eyes ablaze. Forget it girl. Sleep and rouse and blue-dark in the curtains, open NO and unfortunate early morning vomit. But there’s more of everything to be had during the game, so get together again in the Arms.
Skanky Sunday showered Sunday not so bad now. The most restful pub. Turns out pills were going around through the club, and drinks were spiked. Good call on all of them to get her so in love with him. No violence, used to do violence. Do pills these days.

He remembers when they went beating on dealers, like some politics was in them, dogma. They soon realised it was more fun to pay the dealer and eat them. He wishes it was more extreme than the nights they had each week, because this is life. But he and they and even she knows heroin is bad and they want to club that dealer. He does not come round often. Fucks people up, young ones and girls, so stick to the easy stuff and a bit of coke. As long as there’s just a little bit of money and enough for some weed then it’s ok, otherwise stay clean.

Off to a big club, hoods up, weed smoke, grey purple smoke curls, eyes watch smoke, smoke curls, eyelash curls, ice sports, naked sports, cherry-red hot, smoke inhale. Love flying between the men and the women in the car, talk sharing emotions, confused, a bit load, fat man is frustrated, goes aggressive against the loudmouth.
-Mate, mate I love you just you got to listen, when I say to shut up I really mean it. I’m sorry mate and yeah I love you but you know what I mean, we’re just trying to help you understand what w mean.
Confusion, then dark-brows rising.
-Oh fuck that man, fuck off, come on I know I can talk some shit but you don’t have a fucking clue what it’s like to be me, you’re you and not me, so how could you know
-Look mat, I’m just tryingto sy you gotta keep quiet sometimes, all we’re saying is you got to know when to clm down, and that’s what we’re saying.
-Man you can't tell me that, just can't tell me that cos you don’t know what it’s like. You can't understand.
-Look, dude, he’s just trying to say that you have the ability to not take so much and get into a bad way, you have the choice and no one else, so it’s you that has to stop when enough is enough.
-Fuck you, fuck that, god, now you’re ganging up on me? Fucking hell man. Fucking hell. Look, a-

The girls are quiet, taking it all in. Watching through sympathy glazes the man they know as fat man – this is drunken tears, whisky tears... and soon the hands are coming out to grasp in handshakes of love and understanding as if they have reached something they understand.

-Look, you reckon you stronger than me? Come on show me? Come on man

The bicep out and flexed, his grip rapidly hardening, trying to crush the hand he still grasped, the car sliding swerving rolling wheels water driving rain, speed needle climbing, blood needle hot climbing.

-Look – ah – mate! What!
-Come on!
---No--.
-Look fucking show me, look!
-No, get off me!

Their grips and hands shake colossal now, the coke rising again.

-Just fucking show me if you’re stronger, cos I’m fucking strong.
-No.

And on it goes.