Didn’t Happen

Razur Cuts IV is out now; you owe it to yourself to grab a slice of Scotland’s finest Lit Zine. In its pages, you’ll find this one of mine; the first story I’ve ever written entirely in an approximation of the Geordie dialect -:

 

RC IV

wi woh ganna meet at thu clubhoose aboot two o’clock n watch thu Mackems git laced by Spurs afore headin up Osborne Road , n then Stevie Robson put thu block on it – place woh double fukkin booked – all thu bairnzes teams havin tha Chrismis dos – pass thu fukkin parcel n that sorta shite – nee way ah cud say oot  tu’im  like – nor afta Davey Mitch got haaled in foh questionin – prehistoric allegations of touchin Stevie telt iz, gittin it aal wrang az por fukkin usal – corse thu geet big fukkin elephant in thu changaz foh thu club iz thu crack aboot mega compo foh parents n guardians coz wi’d arsed up thu fukkin safeguardin procedures, Charter fukkin Standard oh nee Charter fukkin Standard – thoozinds oh NE6 welfare mams caalin Claims Direct, gettin tha hopes up aboot Florida holidaz, botox n tit jobs, wih infinite amoonts oh tabs n peeve hoyed in anaal – last fukkin thing wi need wi wor dodgy finances an nee cuntin insurance – yi knaa thu fukkin score…

problem still fukkin remained aboot thu ladz Chrismis do – thi’d been sound az fuck – nee bevvin on Frida – ah could tell – all oh thum torned up sharp n nee fukka hoyin Red Bull or chud doon tha necks – canny point away to Bishops n aal – grafted thu whole fukkin game – wi owed thum a decent peeve but nee cunt hud a plan til Crazy Joe Innes pulled a fukkin massive rabbit oot eez hat az me n him sat shotgun wih Jimmy Tourettes steerin thu minibus back – CJI hud hord Big Red waz havin one oh eez Gentlemen’s Afternoons thu morra, back room oh The Sun – club aalways had a standin invite tu eny oh Big Red’s social gatherins az eez owld fella helped set thu cuntin club up years back –  looks like a fukkin White Chrismis afta all shoots CJI n wi woh aal still bad laffin when Jimmy dropped iz hyem – took it steady on thu Satda neet – few cans n then got me heed doon afta thu footbaal on thu telly – big fukkin bevvy on thu Sunda ahead of iz – yi knaa thu fukkin score…

up canny orly next mornin – shit n shampoo then a fry up in ASDA wih thu papers, afore caalin doon thu club to see if oot wa gannin on – fukkin stowed oot wi bairns in tha footbaal gear n tha radgey mams aal on thu WKDs n pints oh snakey fore sun’s owwa thu yardarm – Stevie’s deein hiz bit tu heed thu compensation cunts off at thu pass wih festive hampers full oh buckshee smokes, bevvy, iPhone 7s n groceries – aal on thu hoose, an aal knock off probly – Slade n Shakey blasted oot frum behind thu bar where he’s hoyin oot free drinks in his  Chrismis gansey n Santa beard – fukkin helmit – wir a fukkin footbaal team nor a cuntin food bank – wi needed tuh flog loadza domino cards tuh pay foh Stevie’s largesse so ah made aboot a dozen laps oh thu bar, deein the raffle –  pund a strip – cunt’ll nivvir git draahn like, but yi knaa the fukkin score…

ah gorrin The Sun just az Motherwell against Dundee woh kickin off – wasint tha fukkin interested like, but yuh need tu knaa times n stuff case thu poliss start nosin aboot – CJI n Lord James Tourettes alridy stud at thu coonta in tha club polos, enjoying a pint n a canny size brandy each – greedy owld cunts…

  • bit orlee tu be hammerin thu owld Courvoisier innit?
  • on thu fukkin hoose man, yi fukkin daft cunt – nee way ah’d be putting mi hand in mi pokkit foh quality bevvy like this’n barks Jimmy, brandishin thu glass boot half a inch frum mi dial – shut ya fukkin hole n git stuck in – fukkin Chrismis man n Big Red’s payin – yi knaa thu fukkin score

 nee need tuh tell iz twice – seconds later ah’m restin mi palms on the coonta watching  Yvonne fillin iz a geet big Remy Martin while mi Guinness settles – fukkin champion – ah tek a skeg roond thu place n see aboot half a duzun footbaalers stud in a group unda thi smaala telly, lookin norvis – gelled hair, Ralph Lauren shorts n ganzeys, distressed jeans n pairz oh fukkin white sand shoes like wi hud tuh wear in PE aboot fowty years back – all suppin Corona wi bitz oh lime in – cuddint drink fukkin hot watta, younginz – when thah on thu pitch wi tha numbaed shorts, playin tha profoord positions n displayin porsinal idiosyncracies, thu aal seem tuh be individuals, but heah in thu bar, thuh aal blend inta one fukkin amorphis lump oh late teenage n orlee twenties soft cuntism – mind, ah cud see why tha woh shitein thazells when a tek a fortha glance roond n see who thu majority oh puntaz in heah are – despite what it sez owwa thu door, Big Red iz thu numba 1 cunt in charge oh The Sun – fairlee fukkin obvious tha’z nee way he’d gerra  drinks licence wih hiz CV oh nefarious conduct stretchin back aalmost thorty yearz – hence eez got Arthur n Yvonne runnin thu joint forrim – course aal thu 2 oh them dee is sorve thu fukkin drinks like – Big Red is thu brainz oh thu fukkin operation n a virry fukkin far frum silent partna – corse eez got nee fukkin accoontancy qualifications, but thu cunt knaaz aal aboot cookin thu fukkin books n usin The Sun foh launderin hiz ill-gottin coin – meks iz bit thu usual way foh blokes oh hiz demeanour – floggin coke, steroids, tabs n pillz, accordin to hiz puntaz preferences n requirements, well az sortin oot protection foh smaal biznissiz at a reazonable price, deein thu doors in thu toon, not tu mention thu odd bit oh extortion n intimidation when required – mebbes shootaz if needs be – yi knaa thu fukkin score…

it gans withoot sayin Big Red, huge n fukkin strang tho ee iz, cannit dee aal that graft issel – hence why hiz squad’s oot in force – a gatherin oh fower duzzin shaven-heeded n baald chunky mental cases – aal attired in similarly chunky Italian knitwear, all off tha fukkin nuts on toot n roids – nigh on thu 50 hardest blokes frum Byka, Waalsend n Waalka crowdin round thu back bit oh thu bar – ivray fukka heah iz 100% reliable – totely loyal tu Big Red n ready tu gan tu war ASA fukkin P, if needed – thuh might be pushin fowty n upwards, but these cunts look afta thassels – not one oh thu fukkaz iz fat – fact – n thaz so much Stone Island on show wi cud be attendin Mazsimo Osti’s borthday party n not Goodfellaz dubbed wi Jimmy Nail deein all thu taalkin – or shootin n baalin more like, az yi cannit hear fukaal oh thu commentary during thu forst half oh thu Jock game, wih the room split in 3 distinct factions – radgies at thu back, younginz standin roond unda tha telly, starin at tha feet, scared ti say a word, messin wih tha phones, n us 3 awld cunts at thu coonta, taakin aboot wor seazon so far – me n Jimmy Tourette’s rekkin wa deein areet – top 6, n still in the league cup – not fukkin gud enough, ah’m tellin yiz claims CJI, still annoyed az fuk aboot gannin oot thu Vaze at hyem tu them cunts frum awwa Cumbria – owlder wi get, more thu footbaal club’s wa life – aal oh wiz – nigh on thorty yearz oh playin, then managing n runnin the fukka, frum Sunday mornin kickaboots tu bein best amata team in thu city n getting tu thu last fukkin 8 oh a national knockoot cup – me, Joe n Jimmy – aalways knaad thu fukkin score

wi woh in a world oh wah own when some cunt starts clangin thu bell like it’s lasties –  Big Red drawin attention tu thu fact it’s party time –  sorry tu wake yiz, but ya need tu git thru thu back room ladz, n enjoy yasells – wi aal heed inta thu function room – aal thu hard lads nash sharpish, followin Mein Host like eez thu Pied Piper oh Green Street – me, CJI and Jimmy tek it easy, letting thu crood thin oot, while thu players just shuffle in behind wi, like frightened bairns off tu thu dentist withoot tha mamz –  Big Red’s on thu door, shakin hands n deein a meet n greet – up close yi can see how fukkin massive thu cunt iz – well owwa six n a half foot – still in 34 waist keks like – thu Big Unfriendly Giant, crushin yah hand in eez mit az an expressin oh thu power imbalance in aal wah relationships with im – mek sure ya get stuck right inta thu buffet fellaz, afore thu lasses swallow ivray fukkin thing gannin – ah’m just aboot tu remark ah’m fukkin clammin n cud dee wih sum bait, when ah clock Big Red’s approach tu caterin isn’t precisely festive – there’s nee scran – instead wi get cigar boxes full oh spliffs on each table, aal oh which are groanin unda thu weight oh freebie bottles oh champaz n Moretti in bukkits oh ice – n the piece de resistance – a generous wrap oh Charlie foh ivry cunt that comes thru thu door – not to mention several broon envelopes for thu hard lads up front, foh sorvices rendad – yi knaa thu fukkin score…

wi aal just gettin sat doon at thu geet big roond tables when ah notice thu stage iz aal lit up – loadza fukkin silver foil decoratin thu backdrop n a set oh thum awld disco lights pulsing in time tu thu lo volume hard hoose rave shite Big Red n his squad git aal nostalgic owwa coz it meks thum misty eyed aboot Ibiza n quality pillz quatta a century agan – n then thu entertainment starts  – coupla plumes oh smoke n these fowwa lasses appear – cannit really caal thum strippaz coz tha aal ownly in bikinis – erotic dancaz on minimum wage with 30% extra cellulite hoyed in– ah divvint knaa whooze thu most exploited: thu lasses, Big Red who shelled oot foh thum oh thu puntaz, lappin it aal up – thu radgies are gettin louder n fukkin louder, hoyin beer owwa thu laasses, n thu footbaalers are even more nervous, fiddling wih iPhone apps under thu table n that, oot tha fukkin depths, while Joe n Jimmy are still at it hamma n fukkin tongs aboot thu FA Vaze game – daft cunts – ah git mesel a pair oh Morettis, n shoot back doon thu bar, see how thu Jocks iz gannin on – shite like thu lasses dee nowt foh iz – ah mean whern ah hit fowty ah made a plan to nivvir torn doon a game oh footbaal oh mi hole az yi nivvir knaas if it’s ganna be ya last chance, but that was fukkin years back n yi knaa the fukkin score…

ah get mesel a pew up at thu coonta n notice thuz aboot 8 blokes in tha thorties come in – bit younger than Big Red  n iz squad –  one oh tha cunts woh familiar – self-styled fashion impresario Robin Conway – been aal owwa the paperz n local telly – set up some fukkin on-line fashion site foh soft cunts in tha 30s who wanted tu mek up foh loosin tha hair by pretendin thu used tu proply be in thu knaa back in thu day – Internet Threads Klub – aye, that’s reet, I T fukkin K – pitiful, deluded saps – aal dressed like thu been oot hill waakin oh summik – ah knaa it’s supposed tu be thu look oh choice foh mid-life crisis pretendy casuals, but apart from thu fact none oh these clownz cud put a tab oot, it looked like tha gannin tu a fancy dress do az Chris fukkin Bonnington – daft bobble hats, orange n yella Fjallraven anoraks, cords tucked inta stripey fukkin socks  n Adidas dappaz straight oot thu box – fuk knaas what tha deein heah – ah just ignored thu cunts n watched thu footbaal –  hadn’t took it on me bets but ah still wanted tu knaa thu fukkin final score..

inta thu last 5 n Dundee gerr an undeserved equaliser followin a fukkin mega pagga in thu box tha’s like tryin tu gerra taxi outside Manhattans in Waalsend at hoyin oot time on Boxin Day – mutterin tu mesel standard oh thu Jock top flight’s fukkin worse than Sunda morning footbaal doon heah, ah gan forra piss n when ah git back ah seez thu younginz frum wor fukkin team aal leggin it oot thu pub door, coz tha taxis torned up – ofta leafy Jesmond n thu posh bars fulla nice lasses n comfy corners tu git taalkin tu someone special – ah knaa ah sez tha soft az fukkin shite, but ah divvint blame thu younginz foh bailin oot – got thu potential tu get really fukkin messy heah this afta wih thu bugle, thu lasses n Jimmy Tourettes on thu brandy – cunt’ll tek a double Viagra n be up on stage wih thu lasses deein a strip afore long –  ah try tu see thu war oot in Switzerland, so to speak, gettin Arthur tu hoy iz another Guinness on – n then one oh thu Mountaineering Daduals deliberately, accidentally brushes against iz when getting thu drinks in n sayz nowt by way oh apologies – aal ah hear iz Eight Moretti sweetheart in a voice blendin a private school education, sooth o thu Tyne upbringing, hint oh a lisp n thu kind oh arrogance warrantin a smack in thu mooth – mind ah sez nowt – not one foh botha me theeze days – specially when it’s 8 onta one – yi knaa thu fukkin score…

lookin at thum thru tha mirra behind tha coonta, ah reckon thu rest oh thu Hikin Club are frum Shields – fat n owld afore thu time – faux internet footprints az top lad NME n Bender Squad hoolies back in tha day, or so they rekkin –  taal tales aboot collectin Fairy Liquid train vouchaz, comandeerin work transits tu gan tu Forest midweek n gerrin tha bus bricked at Coventry  – mind nee fukka ah kna ivver hord oh thum, much less recaaled standin shoolda tu shoolda, gannin toe tu toe wih Millwaal, Chelsea n thu Cockney Red cunts in The Flyin Scotsman,  afore this cunt whoze actin thu chap wi me become tha Fuhrer –  gobshite grass, or so thu story gans, from Boldon whoze mekkin a killin from floggin this outdoor casual clobba tu soft twats like thu fat boys – cunts shouldn’t be heah, full bastard stop – Crazy Joe iz just oot thu netty, still deein eez fly up, stickin eez heed in thu bar tu look forriz when thu interlopers mek foh thu back room – Joe tries tellin em it’s a private party, but one sly cunt shoves im oot thu way – five yearz back Joe’d a shot the fukka deed – now ah’ll ee can dee iz keep eez balance n a bit dignity – ah’m not havin that, so ah’m up kneelin on thu coonta n ringin thu fukkin bell like it’s thu start oh a World Heavyweight fight – ah expected Big Red n the ladz tu come borstin oot the back room, aal metaphorical guns blazin – instead thu Hikin Club git swallowed up by thu bowels oh thu back room az thu door slams shut –  CJI grabs thu stool next tu iz n ah shoot im up anotha brandy n pint –  wi give it 5 minits n let thu dust settle – yi knaa thu fukkin score…

when wi wander thru, it’s aal owwa – Jimmy Tourettes is asleep face doon at tha table wih one oh tha lasses g-strings draped owwa eez heed – more significantly, half thu Shields fat lads are nursing bad heeds, borst mooths n nascent shinaz – mind coupla them seem more bothad about the rips tu tha bonny coloured hi-viz anoraks, nee doubt occasioned by a propa hidin on thu deck – one cunt’s lost a few teeth, teachin im Rockports may not be az stylish az two hundred pund dappaz, but thu dee far more damage – worst state is thu leader oh tha pack – Robin Conway’s doon on aal fours on thu stage wi iz keks roond iz ankles, these daft fukkin sky blue n pink hoopy socks up tu eez kneez , while one oh thu dancing lasses is deein im up the shitta wi a massive fukkin strap on, mekkin thu silly fukkin bobble on eez wooly hat boonce aal owwa thu fukkin shop – sat not 5 yards away, straddlin a chair n filmin ivray fukkin squeal, ouch n grimace on eez iPhone is Big Red, laughin eez fukkin heed off n tellin thu lass to gan in furtha az Conway’s gettin harder wih ivray stroke – fukkin torture but nee worse than thu cunt disorves – lesson numba fukkin one roond heah iz neebody evva teks thu piss oota Big Red n survives intact – soon Big Red’s seen enough n tellz thu lass tu give owwa – despite the undignified fart as the dildo came oot eez hole n thu streaks oh shite on thu shaft, aal eyes are still on Robin, who’s fukkin cryin az ee adjusts eez Selvage jeans, squashin eez slightly owwa big tu be accidental hard on inta eez keks – fukkin shame of it – eez haddit – nevva even finishes eez peeve afore gannin to slope off, probly tu thu waalk-in centa wi thu Shields Casualties, but just az eez aboot to dee one, Big Red callz im back n asks if thu’v enjoyed tha aftanoon

  • didn’t happen, snivels Conway, heed pointin straight doon tu tha floor
  • good lad, laughs Big Red, waving thu iPhone containin footage oh Robin’s finest moment – yi knaa the fukkin score alreet – have ah gud Crissmis… cunt

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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