Sally 04 : Denise, Match of the Day.o anyway, the day started normally enough, it was a nice sunny day in my student digs, I was doing my ironing when of all people Carl knocked on my door. Now Carl I haven’t seen since I beat up his girlfriend Jackie at a party. Carl said he wanted a favour, to say I wondered ‘What the Fuck’ would be an understatement. Curious I left him in, and he went ahead to explain.
"It all started a couple of years ago and the annual Liverpool v Manchester Women’s Soccer club match. As you know there’s a bit of a rivalry between Manchester and Liverpool.”
I nodded.
“Well after the match, the two team captains got into a big argument, and it turned physical. Everybody watched, it was quite a wild catfight from all accounts. They were both pretty battered but eventually, our captain won.
Well, would you believe it, the next year their team captain challenges ours to avenge the beating we gave out last year? Again, it happened on the football pitch and was another wild one, each girl down to their undies, this time their captain won.
And the next year our captain challenged theirs. So, it becomes an annual event, each year after the match the rival captains meet up for a scrap on the football field. All well and good until you went and beat the shit out of Jackie. Now that makes you our current champion. So now everybody wants you to scrap with the Liverpool captain after the match".
Carl looked at me, I think he was waiting for me to just volunteer. Dream on sunshine.
Then something occurred to me.
"What's the prize?" I asked.
"Bragging rights, the honour of the university and you get to see who's the better woman."
"Fuck off!" was my quite reasonable reply.
"And a share of the bet winnings". He quickly added.
"It had better be more than £50".
"Oh, it will be".
"Okay let me think about it."
It was agreed that all his mates would chip in and give me a winner's fee from their betting winnings. There was going to be some serious betting on the outcome, so the winner's fee would be a couple of grand. So, I agreed.
Sam and I turned up to watch the match. I noticed that they were not using their captain much, probably trying to save her strength for later. I was told it was a good match, to me it was just a load of people running around a field. Their captain looked a bit taller than me, with straight black hair down to her shoulders. Oh, and dinky breasts, a football thing I guessed, ‘cos none of the players were big girls. You don’t suppose you want 42fffers bouncing into your face when you’re running around a football pitch. As I watched her, she seemed quite fast and agile, and I noticed that she wasn’t a dirty player, competitive yes, but not aggressive.
After the Women’s match, no I don’t remember the score. Sam and I went into the changing room while everybody else was leaving to watch the scrap. It was only for the teams and ‘The People In The Know,’ all the girls in the team wished me luck.
In the changing room, I changed into my football shirt, black for the Manchester University Women’s Football team, and a pair of rather skimpy black shorts. No boots were allowed, the girls in the first fight had fucked themselves up badly with those boots. So, in the following years, the fighters had to be barefoot.
"Are you sure these are football shorts?" I said looking at my bum in the mirror.
"No, I reckon Carl selected them". Sam came over to me, adding "But you do fill them out very nicely." Sam smiled, although from the look he gave me, even if I was wearing an old brown paper bag, he’d still say I filled it out nicely. Bless him.
"You okay Sal? S.I.G.?"
I smile back.
"S.I.G. Sam" I reply.
S.I.G. is our little secret thing. It means 'Spectrum Is Green" which means as you know; everything is okay. What do you mean you don’t know it? It's from a show called “Captain Scarlett and the Mysterons". My dad used to watch it with me, it was our Friday night treat, Mom would go to bed early and me and Dad would watch cool TV programs and stuff ourselves with crisps and ice cream. They had really cool gadgets and a squad of female fighter pilots called Angels, I always wanted to be an angel, they were so amazing and cool. I made Sam watch it and Thunderbirds (of course!) and everything else that Gerry Anderson has ever done on film even ‘Doppelganger’! Which yeah was only for completeness. I love them all. Anyway, I’m getting off the point.
So, there I was standing on one side of the centre circle of the football field in a team jersey, with short shorts, and bare feet. A crowd was all gathered around the football pitch, they would be watching from there, it was all the teams, support staff and the ‘People in the know’ which I assumed to be rich old boys. Which she does in the blue of Liverpool and wearing what seem to be proper football shorts. (Carl, you sleaze-bag!). She shadowboxes into the air.
"Who the fuck are you?" She greets me warmly.
"I'm the new champion!" I say proudly.
"What happened to Jackie?"
"I fucked her up."
She looked me up and down, I think she was amazed and insulted. She probably knew there was a replacement for Jackie, but I think she expected someone more imposing. She’s acting tough but she’s scared I know; I see her biting her bottom lip. I was the same when I faced Jackie.
"How? A pip-squeak like you. What did you do? Wait for her to die of old age?".
"Oh, I'll show you!". I’m about to start things off there and then, when a voice comes over the Tannoy system.
“Welcome to the annual Manchester v Liverpool Women’s football scrap.”
Cheers from the crowd.
“We have Sally representing Manchester.”
I wave and turn around; I remind myself I’m not in the Catfight club, so I must restrain the tit jiggling.
“And from the city of Liverpool, we have Denise.”
Denise’s turn to wave and all the Liverpool fans cheer.
Two girls quickly come out onto the pitch and pat both of us down for hidden weapons. We raise our arms and do a little twirl.
"Now shake hands".
We shake hands, and the bitch squeezes my hand far too tightly, with a fuck-you look on her face. She’s trying to show me how strong she is. I just take it. Let her underestimate me, I’ll get my chance to fuck her up later.
"Now take a step back"
We look at each other. She's an inch taller than me with strong legs, she has a disdainful look on her face. I just smile at her, sweetly. But inside I'm counting all the ways I'm going to fuck her. I know the type from school; Miss Jolly-Hockey Sticks. In my day it was Hockey, Women’s football is a new thing, they were the girls who could run to the end of the playing field the fastest in the first year. In the dictionary, it's used to describe “a woman or girl of a high social class who is enthusiastic in a way that annoys most people”.
Yeah, but it’s so much more; these sporty types; always the popular girl, with the handsome boyfriend and oh she went to all the right parties, snogging Steven Fisher, never any zits, while I got fuck all, okay I did get the zits. Enjoy your moment of peace little Miss Jolly-Hockey Sticks. Although I had never met this girl before, I was still going to tear that grin right off her face.
“So, let’s have a good clean fight although there are no rules”. Tannoy man sxxxxxxx “This is a fight to the finish. Victory by submission or KO” The crowd cheers.
“Fight!”
I move towards Jolly-Hockey-Sticks, She raises her fists like she’s going to do a fistfight, and I’m inwardly smiling thinking about my first attack. When.
“Fuck!”
I walk straight into a right-cross which hits me straight on the nose.
And then a left-cross slams into the side of my face.
“Gotcha!” I hear her hiss; she has a smirk on her face. "I've been training for this for months, runt".
“First blood to Liverpool,” mister Tannoy man announces.
I feel a trickle of blood, instinctively I raise my hand to my nose and come away with the expected blood. Captain Bloody Cook, I think.
Meg covered this in the first of her MMA courses, Cook was an 18th-century explorer. He argued with the Hawaiians, he was backed by the Royal Navy the biggest, baddest navy of the time, armed with guns, and cannons against the Hawaiians who were armed with wooden spears. It should have been a walk in the park, a wholesale slaughter, and still, he ended up dead. So, what killed Captain Cook? The knife obviously, but also bad decisions, hubris, and dumb luck. The moral of the story is shit happens in a fight. Just make sure the shit doesn’t fall on you. Jolly-Hockey-Sticks may not have been in a real scrap before, but she’s fit and strong. I’ve got my work cut out for me.
Pissed off I move back towards her; she raises her fists for another round of fisticuffs. I clench my left fist. She sees it coming, but what she doesn’t see coming is the roundhouse slap I deliver with my right hand. A gobful (that’s a mouthful for my international readers) of spit is ejected from her mouth as her face flies to the left. She staggers straight into my left-handed slap; her face flies the other way.
“Gotcha!” I hiss back to her, “Did you train for that?”
She backs off and we start circling. She knows now that she’s in a fight and it will hurt.
We start grabbing for each other, her arms go out, and I move back. My arms go forward, she moves back, and we’re circling.
“C’mon Denise, tear her face off.”
Tiring of the grabs, I raise my knee and swing it right into her stomach. She gasps clutching at her stomach. I moved in to hurt her some more, but she raised a knee and kicked me in the side. Shit that hurt, she smiles, pleased with what she’s done.
She grabs at my head holding me down while she fires more knees into my body. I grab her knee and throw her onto her back.
I bend over and start raining punches down on her, I bloody her lip, and she grabs my hair and rolls me to the floor. We start tearing at each other, she’s just slapping, pulling hair. Then she gets her hand under my chin and starts forcing my neck back.
There’s a scared/manic look in her eyes, that I recognize. Miss Jolly-Hockey-Sticks is gone and in her place is a feral animal who seriously wants to cause me pain. I went like that when I was fighting Jackie.
I go for getting her shirt over her head, Instinctively she covers up her bra-covered breasts. Sucker. It’s free-shot time. Punching at her, I then start pulling at her sports bra, then with my other hand, I give her tit a good squeeze. That gets a yell. Then I lift her sports bra around her arms, she’s tangled now. I pull her head down and lift my knee straight into her head. Her arms are wildly windmilling, grabbing at anything.
The little bitch gets lucky and catches me under the chin, I see stars. She lifts her knee and kicks out blindly. It hits my belly hard. I gasp out loud staggering backwards I fall onto my arse. Despite the pain, I try to get up while the cow is still blinded.
Too late, she’s manically pulled off her jersey and sports bra. She can see me now, holding my belly, and she wants some payback. She gives me her best penalty kick into my belly again, It’s my turn to eject a gobful of spit, my stomach feels like it’s cramping, I’m in trouble.
She moves in for another kick and I reach down and pull at her shorts. They’re properly elasticated football shorts, unlike mine, I start pulling, and they come down halfway to her knees before she realises what I’ve done. Her desire for modesty makes her try to pull them back up but stops when she realises she can't defend herself from the blows my other hand is throwing. Her shorts are around her ankles now.
She stops her attacks mortified all she’s wearing now is a skimpy little thong. Who would’ve thought Jolly-Hockey-Sticks would wear a thong? I look down.
“Going for the wild garden look?” I smirk. I look her up and down.
“Tiny tits, big bush.” I’m really rubbing her face in it.
She screams like a banshee, not from any pain, just from the embarrassment. Good.
She wants to get me back but as she moves towards me, she trips on her shorts and goes down to her knees. Ha! I think your naked little arse is mine.
I put an arm around her neck and used the other arm to pound her face. I was getting in some good shots there. Then I hear Sam shout out
“Sall!.”
I pause my pounding, this gives her time to swing a haymaker to my jaw, I think it was more out of fear than deliberate intent, but either way, I back away seeing stars.
Growling, she dives at me, barreling me to the ground.
Her hand's attacking, and the bitch is ripping at my shirt, while her knees are attacking, going for my crotch! All I can hear is her effing and jeffing. I must admit I was taken aback by the fury of her attack. Then I heard the fabric of my shirt tear and I feel the breeze on my tits, no I didn’t bother to wear a bra. Then she scratched her nails down my back, like me, she didn’t have long nails, but still, they hurt, I guessed there’d be eight lines down my back tonight.
Her hands scurry down to my ass, I could feel her clawing at my buttocks through the shorts, I think she was trying to shred them as well. Luckily due to the tightness of my shorts, she can’t get at them.
I fire in some punches to her dinky breasts, but then I remember her thong, I pull with both hands from the front, and she cries out, I can see the tears in her eyes as they fill with tears.
“Aarrr!” she screams. The crowd goes “Oow” in sympathy, even the men cross their legs.
“Fucking pip-squeak, am I? I’ll show you”. I shout at her.
I jerk her thong even harder. The thong looks like it’s gonna snap any second now. She screams in agony then the screams turn to whines. Her arms wave frantically, and she starts slapping at my face. I can take it, I hold on, I’m really hurting the cow.
Then suddenly her hands reach for my eyes. I lean back trying to get my eyes out of range, it fails, and her thumb jabs into my eyes. My eyesight goes and it's my turn to scream.
I try to fight down the panic. Christ, she’s going to Captain Cook you.
My grip on her thong loosens, and she dives straight into me as we roll on the ground, and her hands go for my hair. My eyes are still shut from her attack. Shit, the slag has turned it around again. She’s one tough cookie, and who does that remind you of I thought.
As we roll, I grab her hair and try pounding it on the ground. With my other hand, I grab for any flesh I can find and squeeze. I’m still trying to clear my eyes, but I’m trying to hurt her and buy me some time. My greater experience with this kind of situation gives me a slight advantage although she fights me every step of the way.
Finally, I manage to get the bitch lying underneath me, my arms around her neck. I pull her face into my chest with one arm and fire slaps into her face with the other. I’ve got her and my eyes are starting to clear. Then I see a fire light up in her face as she opens her mouth and takes a big bite out of my breast. Didn’t take her long to go from Miss Jolly-Hockey-Sticks to a nasty bitchfighter, did it? My eyes go wide in shock, and I shout.
“You dirty fucking slag!”
I release her head and punch my fist into her eye, to make her release her bite, it works. That’ll be a nice shiner tomorrow, I think. She grabs at my throbbing breast giving it a good squeeze. We roll screaming at each other. Our arms and legs are flailing, trying to hit any target we can find.
I didn’t notice at first but In the chaos, she had her leg across my tummy, then I felt her other leg sneaking behind my back. Then she clamps down. The sneaky cow.
”NGGGHHHAAAGGGHHH!!” I scream.
I feel her legs, even stronger than that bitch Jackie, clamping around my waist squeezing. We’re facing each other and my hands go pushing at her knees as I wiggle and writhe trying desperately to escape. She smiles, the end is near. She thinks she has me.
“I have you now, you little pip-squeak, I’m gonna cut you in half.” She proclaims,
Her legs relax and then she tenses again.
”NGGGHHHAAAGGGHHH!!” I scream again.
My struggles with her legs get ever more desperate as her grin gets ever bigger.
“Finish her off Denise” her supporters yell, She smiles back at them.
“Come on pip-squeak just give up.”
She’s giggling a bit now. insufferable bitch, I bet she’s always succeeded and always won first prize. She can sense victory is within her grasp. She grabs me by the hair and slams it into the ground. I’m panicking now, fucking Captain Cook keeps going through my head, trying vainly to move her knees, but they won’t budge.
“Hurt, does it? Little runt.” Oh, she’s positively crowing now.
It doesn’t take long before I feel dizzy, I feel like I am going to puke, and tears run down my eyes. But no, I won’t go down like this to the bitch.
Desperately I grab for a new target, her breasts. I dig in hard and twist; she screams. I lean back pulling them to their limits.
“You’re gonna need a new bra size by the time I’ve finished with you” I Snarl.
She tries another pulse of her legs. God, it hurt, but I try not to show anything. I’ve moved my thumb and my forefinger to her nipples, working them hard, but I’m still stretching out her breasts. They stretch out so far, like a piece of taffy, I make a mental note to look up the Young’s Modulus of nipples when this is over.
Her screams become hysterical. She’s in a quandary now, can she squeeze me out before I rip her tits off? I’m not sure myself. This is a duel of wills. The pulsing of her legs becomes more frequent and weaker. She’s breaking, I know it and looking into her eyes she knows it too.
Eventually, fear for her tits wins out, and with a cry of despair, she releases her legs and I rise, she’s still on the floor cupping her poor little titties. But she angrily kicks out with her legs and propels me back. Christ, she kicks like a mule. I’m going to have to fix that.
I stand up first, while she’s still nursing her breasts. I grab her legs and start kicking them, I’ll fucking show her. She starts screaming. Then I grab both of her legs and push them out to the side like she’s trying to do the splits on her back. That gets an even bigger scream. Then I fall on top of her landing on her stomach and push out her legs even further. My breasts mushroom out totally overwhelming her pancake tits, but that’s the least of her problems. Her feet almost touch her head, I’m really stretching those tendons, and her screams become hysterical. She’s not going to be using those fucking legs for a bit.
I pull on her hair and slap her face. Trying to get as many blows as possible while she’s still disorientated. I get a couple of straight-on punches to her breasts; I couldn’t punch up into them as there’s not much to punch up into, ha! Getting her wits back, her hand grabs the hair at the back of my head, pulling me to the side, and with her other hand, she punches hard into my face. I see stars. Then she stops, exhausted.
We both lie on the floor sobbing and moaning. Slowly I struggle to my feet, she staggers up as well hobbling in her aching legs, giving me a look of pure fury as she nurses her poor abused titties. We stare at each other; her long dark hair looks a mess. Her face and body are covered in red blotches, it’s obvious I hurt her badly, I don’t want to think about what I look like though. I must admit she’s one determined little shit. Though I loathe to admit it, she’s a lot like me.
The crowd has gone silent, they really don’t know what’s going to happen next.
She’s muttering indecipherably. the only word I can make out is fucking, I’d don’t think it’s anything complimentary. Despite the agony they’re in she launches a kick straight into my crotch, she had a bit of life in them after all, although you can see the pain etched onto her face. As her foot connects, I seem to fly up into the air. My eyes go wide, and I gasp, drool rolling from my mouth.
“Goal” the Tannoy creep announces. The Liverpool crowd cheers.
Miss Jolly-Hockey-Sticks smiles, she thinks she finally has me. Swaying on unsteady feet on the brink of exhaustion, she moves in to finish me off. But I’m not going down that easily, I swing an uppercut straight into her crotch returning the favour. Her eyes widen, croaking she moves back. You could say I really twatted her. Tee hee.
“Sally equalizes for Manchester” Tannoy man announces. It's Manchester’s turn to cheer.
We both take a moment to moan and stagger. We both look well fucked. Miss Jolly-Hockey-Sticks isn’t gonna be able to wear a bra for a few weeks I reckon, not that she needs one.
I attack first, I go for her hair and start twisting her around by it. She stumbles and falls to the ground. Unfortunately, I did not let go of her hair quick enough and I tumbled to the ground, with Jolly Hockey Sticks landing on top of me, and it looked like I hit my head.
At first, we both lie there not moving.
Then after the longest time, little Miss Jolly-Hockey-Sticks flutters her eyes open like a little baby bird seeing daylight for the first time and she starts to rise. Slowly, unsteadily, she stands above me apart from the still movement of my chest, I’m not moving and slowly it dawns on her.
"I won?"
More of a question than a statement. She places her foot on my belly and then slowly, hesitantly, raises her arms in a display of victory. As she takes in the cheers of the crowd, for a moment she forgets she’s almost naked. That will come to her later.
The crowd goes wild.
Denise gets mobbed by her fans. Sam comes over worried.
"S.I.G.?" He asks.
"S.I.G." I reply wearily.
Slowly, I limp back to the changing room helped by Sam. On the way back Carl commiserates me, I don’t know if he looks so glum because I lost or because of all the money he just forfeited. Back in the changing room, I get checked out, shower, change into my normal clothes and get a taxi home with Sam. We walk into his room; I stop limping and then we celebrate!
PSYCH!!!
Bet you thought you were reading a catfight story. Nope. You’re reading a Caper story!
Do you watch the TV series ‘Leverage’? If not, you must have watched ‘Ocean’s Eleven’. Anyway, the formula’s the same, they do the con on the bad guy, and then you have a flashback montage that shows how the con was carried out.
Well, this is that flashback montage. Try imagining it in black and white with a funky jazz soundtrack.
CUT TO INT: CARL TALKING TO ME EARLIER. Remember earlier when I said something occurred to me? It wasn’t whether there was a prize, it was this - At the party, Carl had planned all the time to get Jackie, to fight me. It wasn’t some spur-of-the-moment bet It was supposed to be an easy start for her, a warm-up, and I was simply a stooge. But the lamb to the slaughter ended up doing the slaughtering. Ha!
CUT TO INT: We see Jackie looking pretty banged up and just shaking her head because I’m certain that after the beating I gave her, Jackie was too chicken to ever fight anyone again. Jackie who I’m feeling a lot less sympathy for as I realise that I didn’t provoke her into a fight. Because that was the plan all along.
CUT TO INT MY FACE CLOSE UP: As I realise JOSH!!! Josh, Carl’s friend. Josh, who knew everybody on the football team.
Josh who only asked me out a week before the party.
Josh whom I got that nice bikini top for.
Josh, who I was so amazed that a guy like that would ask me out. Fucking Josh was in on it as well, he picked me as the stooge.
THAT WAS THE ONLY REASON THE PIECE OF SHIT ASKED ME OUT!!!
CUT TO EXT: OUTSIDE MEG’s GYM. Tracy telling me how Carl and fucking Josh invited her to that party specifically to watch me get beaten up 'cos I ruined their plans. Tracy had her own reasons, but they didn’t know that.
CUT TO INT: MY FACE. Me saying “I fucking hate the bastards.” Not relevant, but it’s a point I want to make.
CUT TO INT: RED LION PUB. Sam talking to Carl and Josh and his buddies accidentally on purpose letting it slip about my fight with Melissa, and me being enrolled in an MMA gym. (No, I wasn’t going to have them know I get paid to catfight, no matter how much extra money they would have bet, no fucking way!).
CUT TO INT. THE BOOKIE’S. Carl and Josh betting even more money on me, thinking they have a ringer.
CUT TO INT: THE BOOKIES. We watch as Mister Paul Metcalfe and Miss Karen Wainwright from Manchester (that's Captain Scarlet and Symphony Angel, but you knew that right? I wore a lovely bright purple wig and of course dressed all in white) put a lot of money down on Denise.
CUT TO EXT. THE FIGHT. You see the fight from another angle. From this angle, you can see that when she kicked me between the legs, I was already jumping up, The silly cow telegraphed it by a mile, It still bloody hurt, though, but not as much as I made it look, I thought the drool was a nice touch, you don’t think it was too much, do ya?
And all the fauxshadowing I did about Captain Cook? I bet it fooled ya!
And Sam called out to me, not because he was worried about me, but because he thought I was going to pound Denise.
Then you see as I grab her hair, I’m pulling her on top of me and when we hit the ground my head never hits it, but I’m using her body to hide this fact from the crowd. It’s a tricky manoeuvre and wouldn’t have been possible without the guidance of a skilled MMA trainer. Thank you, Meg!
And like all good cons the mark (Carl and his buddies) didn't even know they'd been conned, Sophie Devereaux would have been so proud!
When we got back, we didn't make love on piles of money or anything. Okay, we did fuck like rabbits, but the money came in by bank transfer the next day, so we didn’t get to throw it in the air which was a shame.
And now the epilogue before the credits…
I was sitting in the university canteen the morning after the fight when I saw Denise walk in, she paused, looked around and then she saw me, she didn’t smile, but she turned and walked towards me and yes, she did have a spectacular shiner and was wearing a loose shirt with no bra and yes, she was limping.
She stood in front of me.
“The bus is leaving now, but before I left, I just wanted to say…
Thanks.
I get the impression that if we were ever to have a re-match, things would end a lot differently.”
I smile.
“I very much think so.” I agreed. Well fuck it was true.
“Just one question…why?” She’d realised I could have taken her, but I didn’t.
“Because Carl owed me, and I collected big time. If it wasn’t for that I never would have entered the stupid contest”.
She seemed satisfied and then she added.
“I’m sorry about what I said,
…what I did…
…I didn’t want…
I just love football…”
None of it was coherent sentences, but I understood exactly what she was trying to say. I smiled.
“I get it.”
She fell silent, and we stared at each other. The busyness of the canteen faded into the background, it felt like there were only the two of us now. And weird though it sounds, it felt like we shared something, we were almost post-coital. As post-coital as two people who’ve just tried to pound the shit out of each other can be anyway.
I remembered a quote from the writer Karen Blixen about the voice of silence.
We could both hear it.
Why did I fight so hard? When she was crushing me with her legs, I could just have given up, I didn't need to rip her tits off.
I told myself it was to make it look good so everybody would fall for the con.
Surely it couldn't have been because Laura Powell, who was the Hockey captain, snogged Steve Fisher in the upper sixth in the cloakroom at the Rugby Club disco. I still have an ache in my heart when I think about it. I was crazy about the boy; he was the one boy in the school who talked to me like I was a human being, not a freak. And then he copped off with that slag in a one-night stand. I just felt so empty.
No, I told myself I didn’t do all this because a boy I was crazy about snogged another girl, no it was to make it look good so Carl and Josh would never figure out how I’d screwed them.
Looking into her face, I realise Denise isn’t Laura Powell. With her soft scouse accent, she doesn’t sound anything like the Miss Jolly-Hockey-Sticks, I pictured in my head. She just sounds like a scared girl. She was just trying to defend herself. She loves football, she’s not a fighter, and I think she bought into that ‘honour of the team’ bullshit. I feel sorry for her, she seems human, real in a way that Jackie and Melissa never did.
And if Steve Fisher hadn't broken my heart, I wouldn't have studied so hard for my exams, and I wouldn't be here today. And I like where I am today; the course I’m on, my friends Jane, Yvonne, Sam, and the life I live. If I changed anything, if he had snogged me instead of her, it would be like what Jean-Luc said (don't know who Jean-Luc Picard is? Just fuck off!) about pulling a thread and undoing the tapestry of my life.
And I don’t want to undo that tapestry, I like my life.
Maybe I think, someday, instead of beating the snot out of her. I should buy Laura Powell a drink. because she’s the reason I’m here.
This all whizzes around my brain in a couple of seconds. I look at Denise and I offer out my hand.
“All the best little Miss Jolly-Hockey-Sticks”. I said.
She doesn’t get the reference, but she smiles, then she takes my hand and shakes it warmly, no fuck-you looks this time.
“All the best, pip-squeak”.
Fade to black and roll credits to the soundtrack of Irene Wilde by Ian Hunter (All the Way from Memphis!)
When I was just sixteen, I stood waiting for a dream.
A Barker Street bus station non-affair
At the time it seemed so sad, but it did not turn out bad.
If you hadn't messed me up, I'd still be there.
And I think most folks agree, a little put-down makes them see.
They ain't no chain - just a link and that's why you made me think.
Gonna be somebody.
Be somebody.
Be somebody –
Someday
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