Irvine Welsh - Skagboys

— I think I might just opt to pass on that one, Martin, and leave it to security, I inform him, as a glass shatters against the bar behind us. — Or the police? You know, people who get paid decent money tae risk life and limb in such situations?

— It says in your job description ‘any other reasonable duties as determined appropriate by management’.

— Right! ah trumpet, turning sharply away from the ruckus. — Is there a shop steward on this poxy fucking rust bucket?

Creambo briefly looks at me with a betrayed pout, but fair play, he’s certainly going for the Queen’s Industry Award, as he marches right intae the heart ay the Reg Varney. Ah cautiously follow, and all hell’s breaking loose as the last absenting passengers, stag lads who were on the verge ay steaming in but have now decided it’s too rich for their blood, pile past us tae get away fae the fracas. More glass smashes and beseeching, gullet-wrenched invitations to join the row fill the air. Ah should get the fuck ootay here, but this ah huv tae see, cause Cream Shirt is lisping, pouting and farting his wey right intae the middle ay the swedge, screaming, — STOP! STOP IT!

To my astonishment, some ay the football lads briefly pause, each too embarrassed tae be seen tae be the yin banjoing this midget, Cuban-heeled fag. They are obviously all actual, or aspiring, top boys, quickly realising that any hands-on involvement in a skirmish wi a short-arse nancy can only diminish their standing. Eventually a young ragamuffin foot soldier in a rather smart top steps up and panels Creambo with a sweet right hook, knocking him on his arse and bursting his nose open. The northern mob take this as their cue to withdraw, shouting threats as they inch towards the exit. Everything has just miraculously stopped.

— You want some n all, you cahnt? the kid asks me.

With that ugly crack ay fist against bone still resonating in my ear, ah can dae without pursuing that particular option, thank you kindly. Ah gesture towards some older lads, who thankfully tell the impatient young Jedi tae calm doon, pointing him in the way ay the retreating northerners. The few remaining passengers sit paralysed with fear, but the West Ham boys, with the possible exception of young Skywalker, seem too disciplined a mob tae have any interest in bullying civilians.

— I’m sorry we interrupted you chaps from your business, ah say appreciatively, but they’re away in pursuit of the northerners. Ah help Cream Shirt tae his feet and out ay the bar, taking care tae avoid that doubtlessly infected claret shooshing fae his smashed nose aw ower the sacred company garment that gies him his nickname.

— It’sth not on … he protests, holding a hand tae his shattered beak as ah escort him through double doors, — they’re wrecking the boat …

— Worry ye not, shipmate, ah urge, sliding ma hand inside his jacket and removing a wallet which ah slip deftly intae ma trooser pocket. That yin will be put doon tae the melee. — These boys will punch themselves out soon. Let’s get you doon tae sick bay.

Ah take the stricken brown-hatter downstairs and deposit him in the medical room, where a fat Hattie Jacques-type nurse is bandaging a nutter’s head wound. His two mates stand around sheepishly, smirking at each other as the wounded lad moans in a Manc accent, — Didn’t coom ere t’fight West Ham, — came over ere t’ave it wi Anderlecht …

— Wait here, Martin, I’ll see if I can try and calm things down, and ah leave Creambo, planning on heading straight back tae ma cabin tae crash. Ah’m no getting peyed enough tae try and separate bams hell-bent on smashing each other up. Ah could never be paid enough.

En route, ah stroll along the deck, counting oot the loot; forty-two quid, a bank card, n a picture ay a ludicrously bright-eyed gay nephew wi a blond cooslick spiralling heavenwards, like the ice cream on a Mr Whippy cone. Ah pocket the cash and chuck the rest into the cruel sea. It’s a great feeling tae know that ah’ve executed the perfect crime. The wallet will never, ever be found and probably every West Ham and Man U lad will be given the full cavity search by the Dutch polis at the Hook, when the avenging queen phones this yin in.

Getting back doon intae the cabin, ah chase some brown and slump intae a contented semi-doze. Ah mind ay some cunt knocking at the door, but no way was ah answering for a single soul. Ah know that Renton’s holding out on me for the simple reason that if ah’ve kept some percy back then he’ll undoubtedly have followed suit.

Rising at my leisure, determined tae track doon ole Ginger Baws, ah was surprised tae note that the ship was already berthed in the Hook and the cars had started rolling off. Upstairs the bar had been wrecked; a couple of donkeys and a chunky barrow girl are sweeping the floor as Beige Blouse snaps pictures ay the damage, presumably for insurance purposes. I see a squad ay Dutch polis at the pier, but it seems like they can’t be bothered tae make a single arrest, as the cockney mob pile off, chanting, ‘We are the bastards in claret n blue.’ A shocked queeny staffer tells me that one lad was taken tae hospital wi his throat cut; the sea air must have got some bam carried away.

Yar, me hearties!

Ah head back up tae the office where ah see Cream Shirt wi a heavy bandage taped across his neb, talking on the radio, no doubt tae polis or port security. He puts the receiver down, and looks like he’s about to chastise me for vanishing.

— How are you? I get in first, full ay bogus concern.

— I’m fine … thanks for your help there … but where have you been?

— Looking for Mark and trying tae calm down some of our more irate passengers. An elderly lady was very distressed by the violence. I thought it prudent to sit with her for a bit.

— Yes … good thinking … God, there will be hell to pay when Mr Benson hears of this. He cringes at the thought. — I’ll see you down in the bar.

— Righto, I say wi a crisp salute. Outside the doors, on the glass — strewn deck, an open-mouthed flycatcher pushes a brush along with the gusto of a crippled sloth on Mogadon. Fuck me, there are so many community-care types working on this boat that somebody even vaguely normal immediately becomes indispensable whether they like it or no.

So ah go back doon tae the wrecked boozer, and there’s Nicksy, without his bow tie and his waistcoat open, sat at the bar sipping a Scotch. The barman, who introduces himself as Wesley from Norwich, isnae giein a flying fuck, he’s happy to be in one piece, so I help myself to a malt ah dinnae intend tae drink and faux-toast Nicksy. — Slàinte .

There’s nae sign ay wee Charlene, and where is that cunt Renton?

3. Car Deck

Ah love this idea ay huvin what the fitba pundits call a ‘rovin commission’: sortay no being stuck in any one role. So ah’m taking it on masel tae walk roond the vessel, chattin tae people as ah go, making sure that everything is shipshape. Schopenhauer said that a man can only be himself so long as he’s on his Jack Jones, while Nietzsche reckoned all truly great thoughts are conceived by walking. Ah could see masel as a ship’s captain ay the people; huvin a wee stroll aroond checking cunts oot, perhaps inviting a pretty lady or two tae join us at the captain’s table, while ah entertained them wi racy tales ay nautical life in the port ay Leith.

Ah’m a seafarin man: it’s in ma blood. Ah’m thinkin that Sick Boy wid just love tae be in ma shoes right now, though he’s probably workin some scam ay his ain.

Raised voices comin fae above signal aggro, which means work, so ah head doon, away fae the action, descendin the metal staircase tae the bowels. Doon below us, there’s tons and tons ay parked motors n lorries. A gadgie in a boiler suit shouts fae the landin above that ah shouldnae be doon here. Story ay ma life. Always somewhere ah shouldnae be. Like Planet Earth. — Aye. Right. Catch ye later, ah wave, carryin on ma merry wey.