That’s why I
like it in here, all the lads in here know the score, this is our boozer. You
get some wannabes like that tosser over there –oi lend us your walk mate
–wanker he’d be the first on his toes. But in here we’re all the same, we all
play by the same rules. I mean some boozers you go into where they’re supposed
to be respectable and they’ve no fucking manners. Middle class wankers too full
of ‘emselves to be polite, oh yeah they’ve got the manners of exclusion knowing
which fork to use and all that bollocks. But you get summat wrong in their
world and all you get is a cold smirk around the dinner table, get summat wrong
in ours an’ you can get a glass smashed in your face. You know how it starts, a
little nudge a wrong remark, someone getting a little bit fucking fresher with
your space than they ought to be know what I mean. Then it ‘appens that little
thing that ‘appens from time to time an’ in your head someone tosses a coin an’
the next 2 minutes of this cunts life depends on how it lands. Will it be ‘eads
will it be tails, you take a deep breath like all those new age hippy wankers
tell you to to calm down. But it’s just like adding fuel to the fire; the
oxygen hits your lungs, adds fuel to the fire. The coin spins through the air,
will it be heads will it be tails. Heads he’s dead, tails I’ll leave it. Heads
I’ll bust his face open and glass the first cunt who wants it, tails I’ll down
me pint and go. Will it be heads will it be tails, we’ll ‘ave to wait and see.
It’s tails I skull me pint and move on.
It’s nothing
new, razor gangs in the ‘30s, Teds, Mods. See really Football casuals are just
like Mods further down the line. Spending your money on designer gear to go
down the match and ‘ave a row in. All those wankers wandering around
Knightsbridge spending money they don’t even notice on Armani and Dolce ‘an
that; we started that on the terraces and they don’t even know it. They live in
their world and we live in ours. They talk about us like we’re some sort of
disease or summat. Yea, well let me take you by the hand and lead you ‘round
the pubs and clubs of this country. I’ll show you something that’ll make you
shit yourselves. We’re the reflection of their society that they’re too scared
to look at. Violence is part of this country, it’s the red of the red white and
blue, it’s the cross of St. George. They know fuck all, we are England. They
just don’t live here.
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