((Stupid ******** writing about nothing much or of consequence.))

Some mates you had because you genuinely liked them, some mates you had because you ran in the same social circles and then there were the mates you had because you’d ******** grown up with them and it was more hassle to get rid of them than just ******** tolerate the s**t they pulled. Wullie Reid, Reid-heed, Rep, was one of the latter kind of mates. Gordo had known the guy since Secondary school where they had dogged classes together, mainly because no one else would skip half as ******** much as he wanted to, too chicken s**t to do more than a few days a week. Together they had snuck off after registration to sit at the secluded back wall of the local graveyard and drink cheap lager and wine. The popo rarely checked there and as it bordered on an industrial estate, there’d been no meddling cunts overlooking the place to report them. The spot was also ideal thanks to a well placed overhanging wall covered with ivy to stand under and as such it hadn’t ******** mattered if it was pissing down with rain - and it inevitably ******** was - they’d sooner be out there in the cold than tolerate the hassle and bullshit that school presented. And so it had been, both of them stuck together in the shitty Scottish weather, tanning bottles of cheap shite and forced to tolerate one another’s company.

And yet, despite this common ground the two of them had bickered ******** constantly. The crux of the matter to Gordon was that Rep was a complete c**t whose temper made little sense to those around him, seeming to live by a set of ******** rules that were ever-changing, battle lines which moved and fluctuated from day to day. One day you might joke or make fun of him with no repercussions but a bit of banter and the next you’d have a bruised face and a fight on your hands. As he got older his paranoia and the extreme nature of his retaliations got worse and the stakes had gotten ******** higher. He’d been a weedy streak of piss as a young boy but as a teen had begun to fill out and by his twenties he’d gotten it into his head to take up some kind of fitness regime, bulking up like a guy possessed. Maybe he’d even gone over into the realm of too ******** vain at that point, overcompensating like a buftie. Of course, nae c**t would say that to his face, people didn’t ******** want to deal with that moment when his gaze would seem to unfocus like a rabid animal and it didn’t ******** matter if you were friend or foe, you were just a ******** target for whatever ******** up rage that lay behind his eyes. Over the years he’d learned to toe these lines, no easy feat given the number of cuts and bruises that he’d received in the process.

The thing was - and it could never be stressed enough - Rep was a stone cold ******** nutter. No a hard man, a hard man would just hold his own in a fight, take nae s**t from anybody and radiate that kind of effortless ******** danger that kept the weaselly bastards at a respectful distance. Rep, well, he always felt ******** broken to those around him, a dangerous ******** ticking bomb that got tossed from person to person in their ******** social group just waiting for it to go off at the wrong moment and get shrapnel in the poor c**t watching it when it did. He was damaged ******** goods and everyone knew it, just no one really ******** wanted to be his enemy if they could avoid it, it always ended badly. Most of the people on the scheme knew that it had been Rep who had lost his ******** temper and chibbed the c**t who’d bled out a few years back, but with the usual closing of ranks that always ******** followed, the police hadn’t been able to get a ******** word of it from anyone and had ended up blaming it on some homeless mugging gone wrong.

Gordon wished they’d caught the ginger b*****d, he ******** hated him and the stress he represented. He was a ******** burden, a cruel vindictive s**t of a human being and a guy who to his great annoyance seemed to think they were best ******** mates.

----

Rep stopped by my house that night before we were meant to go out to Archaos and of course had some ******** bird with him, a skinny wee tart with a wicked looking black eye she’d - unsuccessfully - tried to cover with makeup. Rep’s type always seemed to run to the ******** ones who looked like they’d been on skag for years, skin stretched over nothing but ******** bones. She was scared of the dugs, especially Butch who was a nosey ********, getting white hair on her sleek black dress, I dunno what some people’s ******** problem is with them, they are friendly enough as long as you urnae polis or jumpy around them. And besides, the ******** dug was probably worth more than she was, her services knowing Rep’s tastes could probably be bought for a fiver round the back of the chippie.

“Get they ******** mongrels oot ae here.” the big redhead snarled and I - always the obedient gormless ******** t**t - hauled them off with their collars and shut them in the back room.

“They need tae get ******** used tae people.” I tried to ******** protest.

“Well no me or ******** Sharon” he spat.

“Steph.” The skinny bird cut in with an air of resignation as if it hadn’t been the first time she’d had to correct the big arsehole on her name.

“Aye, Steph, whatever.” he said, flopping down on my couch and waving her off. I noticed he’d dyed his hair again, the red roots pushed back for another ******** month of lies. Sometimes I ******** wondered if when he took a ******** clueless cow home with him if they’d get into his trousers and be ******** shocked by his ginger pubes or if the ******** freckles over every ******** inch of the p***k’s skin would tip them off first. Probably no, most of the bitches he picked up were dumb as a stump or just as ******** broken as him, gravitating back to the abuse they’d gotten ******** used to, they were like dugs, looping back to their master nae matter what. But even a dug would bite, these Stephs, Brandys, Laurens, Chardonnays, whatever the ******** they were called that week never fought back, just tolerated the constant ******** whittling down of their resistance. I’d had to listen to any number of ******** puffed up rants about how it was about training them their place, bringing them doon to the right level and replacing their Da in their mind. Sure, everybody talked a big game when it came to women, it was all ******** fun and games, but Rep seemed to ******** believe it, to think that you had to break a bird to have any chance of keeping them. I’d tried to express how ******** mental I thought this was once upon a time, asking if the radge c**t had ever had a ******** maw. He’d told me he had and she’d needed breaking maist of all. I left it well alone.

“Geez a few lines.” he went on, all ******** smiles now he was buttering me up, fishing for freebies as ******** always, he was a sponger when he could get away with it, and of course I let him.

“You know I’m ******** pratted.” I said, trying to ******** preserve at least some of my ******** stash from greedy hands.

“I’m good for it.” he went on, still smiling with those ******** crooked teeth. I was going to fold, I always ******** folded because it’s better than dealing with the hassle of one of his ******** tantrums. I set out the s**t, he helped himself.

“Geez me wan tae, gonnae.” The ******** prop identified as Steph nasally pleaded. I took pity on her because any b***h having to tolerate Mr ******** Reid for a night needs all the ******** material sustenance I could give them.

I was never ******** able to decide who I hated more, drunk Rep, coked up Rep or a Rep who’d been into equal ******** measures of both. The c**t got really grabby when he was high and the opposite was true when he was pished. Senses dulled by the ******** alcohol he was like a permanently wounded ******** beast, looking for something to bite. I think I ******** liked the coke more, at least when he got into fights high as a ******** kite, it was usually with other cunts, some ******** whose bird he’d offended or some new mate he’d latched onto who didnae want to deal with the ******** p***k - and rightly so.

Still, out we ******** went and I was glad to finally ******** move out onto the dancefloor and let the ******** music drown out the c**t going on about how the hoops were going to ******** win the league this year and his ******** piece talking about how she’d no been to Archaos in years, talking about all the cunts she’d went to the unders with. Even with the drugs in my veins it wasn’t enough to make me ******** love these ******** and I made a ******** promise to myself to ******** sneak oot with the first bird who’d give me so much as the time of ******** day. Normally there were the other guys to at least ******** take the edge off my loathing, Danny’d ******** talk to him about fitbaw, keep him busy, keep him away from me, but Danny was late. I made my way to the bar to buy the first round of drinks, all the while wishing I could ******** poison them.