Stop Me and Buy One (1/2) By Joe Hakim

(1/2), (2/2),

So I'm heading home after a night out. It's cold and raining, but I decide to walk anyway. I need the time alone. I'm walking past Yello and I notice a fight happening on the opposite corner of the street outside what used to be Buzz Bar. Two young lads, completely pissed out of their brains, slug it out in the vain attempt to hurt one another. Arms flail like branches in the wind.

People stand around watching; a young couple sharing a pizza; a guy tucking into his kebab. I stop and witness the spectacle with them. The rain drumming down on my head, I actually pause and light up a cigarette and watch the pubescent gladiators scrap over fuck-knows-what - a human cockfight.

Stood there watching, I am struck by an almighty idea. Instead of trying to discourage binge drinking and disorderly behaviour, the council and police should encourage it and promote it. They could hook up the CCTV cameras to that huge screen and broadcast live feed of the Saturday night shenanigans. And then the next day they could show edited highlights of the previous evening's mayhem. A college student puking so much that he has to be taken to the hospital; an underage girl getting shafted down an alley by a married middle-aged father of two; lads taking it turns pissing on the cenotaph. Reality TV as it happens, baby, it's the future.

The fight meanders on, then another kid comes rushing from around the corner and leaps in. The two mates have the upper hand now - they kick their opponent repeatedly in the head without pause. The attackers are wearing trainers, so each blow lands with a loud schlep sound.

The audience, myself included, continues to watch, dissecting their fast food. Blood, guts and chilli sauce - that's entertainment. It starts to get interesting now, because the fight has become more serious. Whereas before it was a series of mildly ineffectual slaps, the kid on the floor is bleeding, and he begins to emit a low shrieking sound.

A bald guy, who I think works in Gino's, rushes across the road and grabs the two kids who are booting the other one on the floor. Two on one is not fuckin' on! he shouts. Grabbing them by the collar, he swings them both into the railings. Yer fuckin' pussies, the bald guy shouts. He's a lot bigger than them, so they back off immediately. He bends over to look at the guy on the floor, who is now a broken mess. He's been taken apart like an algebraic equation. What up with yer? the bald guy shouts at us, the spectators. Just fuckin' starin'... they could of killed him. Would that 'ave been worth watchin'? Nobody says anything, because no one cares, and one by one we disperse, the show over.

I'm walking past the corpse of the bus station. I'm soaked, but I'm not bothered. Up ahead I spot a man and woman arguing. I light up a cigarette and walk past. The woman shouts over, Hey mate...you, yeah, you! as I pass them. Just what I need, I think, getting dragged into someone else's domestic. Here we go... 'Ave yer got a cig, mate? she asks. The guy that's with her says, Anyway, Fuck You, bitch, yer gettin' fuck all from me, and then he jogs off, flicking the V's as he goes. What a fuckin' c***, the woman says. And fuck you too yer little shit fuck! she shouts back.

She's wearing a big black duffel coat, hood up. Her voice sounds chipped and harsh. Here, I say and I offer her a fag. She takes it and lights it. Which way are yer walkin'? she asks. I point down Ferensway towards Beverley Road. I'm going that way. And then I'm going to walk down Spring Bank. Do yer mind if I walk with yer? I live down Spring Bank. Not at all, I say. We start to walk. As we begin walking I look at her. Her skin looks craggy and rendered in deep lines like a photograph of Mars' surface. I can't tell how old she is.

Thanks. Just don't want that fuckin' c*** 'asslin' me, she says. It's okay. Who was that anyway, your bloke? I ask. She pauses, and then she says, No, 'e was a punter. Oh right, I say, and the clink of the penny dropping reverberates in my head.

Mother fucker ...coz it was rainin', 'e said 'e wanted to use an 'otel. Normally I wun't do that. And then 'e said 'e pay me 'alf up front, and the rest later, and I never do that. But it's been a slow night, she says. So you ended up doing it anyway and he ripped you off? She pulls her hood up against the rain. Kinda, she says. He paid me the 'alf up front, and we went to an 'otel and did the business. But when yer saw us just then, 'e was supposed to be payin' the rest. 'E wanted to pay me in shrapnel! Can yer fuckin' believe that? So I called 'im a cheap bastard, and that's when 'e started. The nerve of some people, I say. Fuckin' right, she says.

Continued on www.thisisUll.com...... Next Page (2/2),

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