Wesley explains.
Fuckin, you know how it is like. Fuckin miserable, dawmp day in Belfawst. What’s fuckin new? Sweat clingin tae us like shite tae a fuckin blanket. Soon as ah got up, ah had a shawr, wore mah clean tracksuit n gold chains like, threw on the oul spice. But ah’m still sticky as fuck. My head’s like a big fuckin pizza left out in the sun. It’ll be them amphetamines. Ah have tae get off that shite fir a while, like. Fuckin pulse is hummin in mah skull, like, n I could fair panel the first bawstard that gives us any lip. Couldn eat breakfast either, an nigh ah’m fuckin starvin, n sweatin buckets n ah’ve gottae go down the school and pick up the wee man. Maureen’s supposed to be doin it, but she’s cryin sick. Aye she’s sick alright, sick in the head, n she’s got another thing comin if she thinks I’ve got time to be doin her fuckin chores. I’m s’posed to be collectin. Fuckin... some people... take the pish.
