A Decent Ride by Irvine Welsh Read Free Book Online Page A

sur, aye sur. A big laugh. Aye sur, that we will. Aye.

4
SWEET LIBERTY
    AH HAD A shift at Liberty Leisure tae pit in. Jonty wouldnae be happy, he’s such a wee prude, but tae me it’s a wee bit extra jist for lyin on yir back or suckin oan something. N some ay the clients: thair patter’s no bad. This one auld boy keeps gaun oan at me tae come wi um, tae Barbados or the South ay France. Ah jist goes, — Aye, right, cool yir jets, auld yin, n cough oot the prices. Hud tae laugh oot loud at that yin!
    Ah work ootay this place doon by Leith Walk, cause ah’m no likely tae be spotted doon here in Hoboland, n perr wee Jonty thinks ah’m cleanin offices! Cleanin oot pipes mair like! He asks me if thaire’s foreign lassies fae the likes ay Eastern Europe n Africa whaire ah work n ah goes, — Too right, Jonty, ah’m aboot the only Scottish lassie thaire! N eh ay laughs at that, bless his wee hert.
    So this Terry felly wi the wild curly hair is overseein the place while Vic’s off tae Spain. Ye kin tell that bastard Kelvin’s no pleased. But if this Terry keeps him in order then ah’m happy. This Terry but, ah’ve heard eh’s a sleaze bucket, cause eh does they scud films thit go oanline. Eh comes in when Andrea’s pittin Leigh-Anne’s hair intae pleats. That Kelvin but, eh’s lookin at me n goes, — It’s weird the wey you lassies kin spend fuckin donks daein that shite tae each other. Like apes fuckin groomin each other.
    He eywis gies ays the creeps, Kelvin does. Eh’s goat two basic looks. The first yin’s a pinched sneer; it’s like eh’s sortay frozen in the act ay stabbin somebody. The second yin’s a dumb scowly face, like eh’s tryin tae work oot if it’s a guid idea tae grass some cunt up. That dark, near-skinheid cut oan that low forehead: ah swear that laddie defies nature cause it’s as if that hair’s advancing acroass it, instead ay recedin. One day it’ll fuckin meet they dark, knotted brows, n hopefully cover up they treacherous dancin eyes.
    — No bein sexist or nowt like that, ken, Kelvin goes, — but tae me that shows wir further up the evolutionary ledder than burds. We’ve goat other things tae think aboot besides dressin each other up, eh goes, — like dressin youse doon!
    — Guaranteed, Terry goes, but just tae shut Kelvin up. — Mind that Desmond Morris gadge?
The Naked Ape
? Boy hud a comb-ower n telt us aw aboot groomin rituals. He’d say thit youse two daein that means yis fancy each other!
    — Git lost! Andrea goes.
    — Hi! Dinnae shoot the messenger! The boy wis oan the telly. Comb-ower!
    Ah’m lookin at his big mop ay corkscrew curls. — Is that a wig?
    — Is it fuck! Gie it a tug, goan!
    Eh leans intae ays, so ah dae it. — It feels really soft, n ah kin tell he’s gaunny say something so ah gits it in first, — Soft one end, hard the other, n ah gie um a wink. — It’s the wey tae go bit, ay?
    — Guaranteed, eh goes, wi a big smile, as Kelvin’s nippy wee puss goes aw tight.
    Anywey, Terry soon diverts ehs attention when Polish Saskia comes in! They aw like her! Ah’ve goat tae go anyway, ah’ve done ma shift n ah’m meetin some ay ma mates before ah git hame tae ma wee Jonty boy.
    So wir in the Haymarket Bar. Fiona C’s goat that fringe cut straight n kind ay silly flyaway hair. Ah widnae say she wis a fat hoor, but she’s no exactly skinny! Naturally chunky, wid be the kind description. Angie’s goat dark curly hair, dark eyes n aw, like the fuckin gyppo she is. So wir oan the voddy n Rid Bulls n ah gits tae talkin aboot Sandra’s bairn. It wis born wi that Down’s syndrome and ah sais tae Angie and Fiona C, — Thaire’s nae wey ah’d be bringin up a mongol bairn. No thank you!
    — Suppose you’ve goat wee Jonty tae think aboot, Fiona C goes. Straight away she pits her hand tae her mooth. — Ah didnae mean it like that, like ah wis sayin thit wee Jonty’s a mongol! Jist thit eh kin be a bit slow . . .
    N ah’m sittin thaire, seethin at