Boys-Modern

Bone

JAMIE
Okay. I admit it. I’m a ladies’ man. Twelve pints in me, and I could still satisfy two ladies at the same time. Captain Quim they call me, the Quimmaster General, Dr Quim Medicine Woman, Russell Crowe: Master and Quimmander. I am Lord of the Quim. Seriously though, I think I might be one of them sex addicts. It’s a medical condition – celebrities get it, well, between you and me, I think they just can’t keep it in their pants, but you know these doctors. Any old half-baked bollocks, before you know it, they’ll have you up on a couch crying how you was touched by the dodgy uncle you never had. But me, I ain’t got no issues, I’m just hungry for the minge, insatiable appetite, and yes, like Scott of the Antarctic, on occasion I have been known to make the long voyage south.

Ten to eight, place is crawling with trim. Marks out of ten? I’d give her one. We all laugh. Then Mickey pipes up. ‘Ere, mate, she looks a bit like your sister! A hush descends. Quick as a flash, I’m there. He’s apologising before I even touch him, knows he’s bang out of line – sorry, mate, sorry, didn’t think, he says. Hands round his throat, you what you what you fucking what did you say? I don’t think he meant anything by it, mate, easy. That’s Alex – good-looking bastard, swarthy, gets his share. I let go. Don’t want to spoil the occasion. I know you didn’t mean anything, mate, just a bit sensitive, that’s all. No, no, no, he says. Not after what your sisters been through. ‘Ere, this one’s on us. Two doorman appear, big bastards, obviously seen the fracas – everything all right, lads? Yeah, lad’s night out, says Alex, bit of fun between mates, that’s all, you got to hand it to him. Special occasion? The taller one says. As a matter of fact it is, says Terry, with an “I don’t mind saying” hint of pride. This lad’s off in the morning fight for his country. Turns out taller one’s seen active service with the paddies. Any advice? I say. Yeah, he says, don’t get shot.