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Move over.
You didn’t look hard enough in the corners. This is where all the piss is. I can smell it. There is no piss, we checked.
So why can I smell it?
Because you are a dickhead, and dickheads smell of piss. Perhaps you pissed yourself and now you want to make out it’s us that stinks.
Not us, this place. This fucking phone box. The floor is sticky.
Just put your coat over it and sit on that. (Silence.)
Pass me one.
Sovereigns are shit. How many have you got?
It’s fucking cold I am not taking my coat off. Yes, it’s fucking freezing. I prefer them to Number 6, but Embassy are it if you have the bread.
Yes, that’s it. Look, it is still dribbling.
Bollocks, I have not pissed myself after two pints. Alright then, three pints and you dribble, dickhead.
Don’t be a wanker; even if there is piss in here it’s dried up. It’s a fucking concrete floor. My arse is an ice block.
It’s fucking freezing because we are sitting in a phone box at three in the morning because we are locked out of the hostel.
Oh great, I am lying on dried piss. How many have you got left?
So it’s still cool to be doing it. It would be if I was shagging Denise Reeves in here, but listening to you moaning about piss and you farting makes me wonder why I agreed.
(Silence.)
What if the phone rings? That would be really scary. It stinks.
We are dropping out, freaking out, anarchists, taking on the establishment. Operator. Hello, what number please? (Laugh.)
The floor is really wet now.
Have one of these. It will warm us up. Put your bag on it.
No one knows us here, so they didn’t ask my age. Why didn’t you tell us?
Because there are only ten and I wanted to have at least two a day. You tosser. Just smoke it, not play with it. (Laugh.)
Five days we are down here; that’s ten gone. So hold it in all night. So now we get one each.
No, you get one between you. You cunt, move over!
(The phone rings.)
August 2025