Irvine Welsh - A Decent Ride

— Ah dunno, pal, Terry goes, n eh looks right at ays, — if she’s broon breid, aye. But dinnae upset yirsel, she’s maist likely jist taken off.

— Aye. . aye. . aye. . aye. . went oan a wee trip. . ah sais, thinkin aboot Jinty gittin oan a tram but yin thit’s like that train in Harry Potter . But instead ay gaun tae a posh school for wizards, Jinty wid be ridin yon tram right tae the gates ay heaven. In a white dress, likes, cause she sortay deserves a white dress. Aye sur. Then wir ower thon waw, much easier fae this side, n wir ootay that graveyard, aye wi are, n back in the cab n oot tae Penicuik. Ah’m still thinkin ay Jinty n goes, — Bawbag did aw this, Terry, it wis Bawbag thit took ma Jinty away. .

Terry’s jist drivin oan but, no even turnin roond. — Aye, it wis eftir that she went, right enough. .

— Bawbag n they trams. . they took hur. .

— Ye cannae blame that yin oan the trams, Terry goes, — ah ken they get it for everything, Jonty, but ye cannae blame the trams fir Jinty vanishin!

— But thi’ll take hur, aye they will, aw the wey up tae heaven, ah tell um.

— Aye, mibbe they will, ma wee pal. Mibbe thi’ll take aw ay us thaire in a big magic tram.

— It’ll be like heaven at Hampden the morn, Terry, whin Herts win the Cup!

— Aye, in yir dreams, wee man, eh laughs n pills up ootside the hoose. Terry’s a good lad for a Hibby; it proves thit thir no aw mingin tramps that live in caravans. Ah kent yins at the skill thit wirnae bad, when muh ma lit ays go tae the skill. Aye sur: the skill.

So ah gits hame intae the hoose n it’s the big game the morn, aye sur, oan the radio, the telly, aw the papers. Aye. Ah’m too excited tae sleep so ah reads back through the auld Herts programmes, n some Hibs yins. Ah’ve got twinty-two ay thum binded thegither in this book, aye sur, fir the run ay unbeaten games. Gary MacKay. Hank goat it done n gied it tae ays fir ma birthday a while back. N ah pray tae God wi the book n ma hands tae beat the dirty Hobos, cause thir intruders, like Hank sais, thir no really fae here, n it should be Herts n Spartans, like two Prawstint Edinburgh teams, tae make it mair like Scotland. No a bunch ay Irish gypsies. . but it’s awfay wrong tae say that, cause it’s what Barksie n that sais n aw. Cause Kind Terry n me help each other. N Jim at the skill, before ah stoaped gaun, he wis good n aw. So some Hibbies are kind. So ah prays again fir God tae cancel the last prayer then ah prays again fir Herts tae win. That’s another two prayers makin three prayers awthegither; ah’m thinkin it’s a waste cause ah could huv done it aw in one, but ah’m takin oot the bits that mean yuv goat a bad hert.

Cause ah’ve no goat a bad hert. Naw sur, cause ah ken what’s inside ma ain hert. Aye ah dae.

Ah’m in the hoose but ah cannae stey in the hoose, n ah sais that tae Karen, ah sais ah cannae stey in the hoose, no wi the Cup final oan! She sais ah’ve goat tae watch it oan the telly. — But Hank’s goat me a ticket n a seat oan the Penicuik bus, ah tell hur, — Aye, the Penicuik bus.

— Bit ah’m worried thit thi’ll pit ye away! Fir hur! That Jinty!

— Ah’ve been oot but, Karen, oot since then. Aye, ah’ve been oot a few times, since muh ma’s funeral, ah sais tae her.

— But that’s jist been tae paintin joabs, that n the hoaspital, n the gowf wi Terry, she sais. — No in a public place! It’s different in a public place, wi polis n cameras! Watch it oan the telly but, Jonty, Karen sort ay begs, — We’ve goat too much tae lose!

— Only you kens but, Karen, ah tell hur. — Ye see, Hank phoned n ah picked it up n eh kens ah’m back hame, n eh sais eh’s goat a ticket for ays. Aye, a ticket. Wi Malky n that. Oan the Penicuik bus, but no they yins fae The Pub Wi Nae Name, ah’ll no see thaim thaire!

Karen’s mooth turns doon n she stares at the fireplace. — Okay, Jonty, jist this once, but you watch it at that match. Dinnae git mixed up wi nae Hibs casuals. That Juice Terry, eh’s a guid laugh but ah’ve heard things aboot um in the toon, she goes.

— Naw naw naw, ah will not, naw sur, naw naw naw, but Terry’s no a Hibs casual. Eh’s a Hibs supporter, aye, but eh widnae dae anything bad like the Hibs casuals.

— Ah hear things, she goes, then heads away ben the kitchen.

So ah’m aw excited but ah surprise masel by sleepin barry-barry. Aye ah did. Fair play tae Karen, she makes ays an egg roll, n a bacon yin, but no a black puddin yin like Jinty used tae dae for ays, naw sur, she did not. But it’s Penicuik n it’s different fae the city, aye sur, aye sur, aye sur, Penicuik, aye sur. Aye. So ah goes doon tae the main street n gits oan the Penicuik bus. N it’s barry-barry whin we passes the Hibs bus oan the other side ay the road. Ah stick the vees up but ah sees Jim McAllan oan the bus, so ah jist turns it intae a wave.

Eh laughs back at ays. Aye. Jim McAllan. Penicuik. Aye sur.

It takes an awfay long time tae git there, even leavin early, aye sur, cause thaire’s that much traffic, but wi gits tae this pub near the ground thit thuv booked up. Aye, booked it aw up. Wir drinkin beer n singin ‘Hearts, Glorious Hearts’, ‘We’ll Support You Ever More’, ‘Hello, Hello, We Are the Gorgie Boys’ n ‘My Way’, but the Herts version, which is barry, but ah dinnae ken aw the words tae it, naw sur. N ‘Rudi Skacel’s a Fuckin Goal Machine’, ‘Oh the Hibees Are Gay’ n ‘Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Paulo Sergio, Sergio, Paulo Sergio’. Aye, we sing aw that.

The game’s barry, it’s like jist the best day ay ma life! Well, mibbe the time ah first went hame wi Jinty that night n split hur right up the middle, but Herts score five! The Hobos only git yin, n they got a man sent oaf! N the referee even gies us a penalty ootside the boax! Hank’s huggin me, n wir in tears ay joy as the cup’s bein lifted up, n it’s aw good till we’re comin oot n ah sees some boys fae The Pub Wi Nae Name. Evan Barksie sees me, face aw burnt like ehs brar Craig, n looks intae ma eye, but disnae say nowt. Aye, ehs face, aw burnt doon one side, like this plastic Action Man ah hud that ah once left by the electric fire. Real faither Henry belted ays fir that, eh said, ‘Dinnae leave plastic sodjirs beside the fire, d’ye ken how much they things cost?!’ Funny but, it being me that burnt one Barksie twin’s puss, n muh ma that burnt the other yin! Aye sur, aye aye aye!

A couple ay boys ah sortay recognise nudge Evan Barksie, but ah’m no feart ay thaim cause ah’m wi the boys fae the Cuik! Even if ah steyed in Gorgie at one time n miss the McDonald’s. Ye kin stuff Gorgie!

We’re aw too happy tae start fightin now anywey, cause ye couldnae start fightin now, well, mibbe the Hobos could, but thir aw away hame! Ah sais that tae Hank, ah goes, — The Hobos’ll aw be hame by now, Hank!

— Aye, they surely will, Jonty, he goes back. — Aw hame n greetin thair eyes oot!

So it’s an awfay guid laugh back tae the bus, but then ah thinks ay Jinty n how ah hope the maggots didnae eat hur eyes oot cause she widnae be able tae look doon fae heaven n see us hudin up the cup. Ah’m greetin back oan the bus thinkin aboot it. Hank pits ehs airm roond ma shoodir n goes, — Aye, it’s an emotional occasion awright, Jonty.

WHENEVER AH WALK down they old closes ay the Royal Mile and the Grassmarket, ah git aw caught up in the romance ay the history ay it aw. Ah think ay the generations ay knee-tremblers that must have took place in this labyrinth. The swaggerin hard men n the screamin lassies, the spilled claret n cracked bones: aw that pish, spunk, snotter and shite. Aw that DNA lost and half-forgotten names washed away by the relentless cauld rain that sprays this fuckin city. But those fuckin steps, oh how they still glisten like cum-soaked nipples. . naw, no that, like. .