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tae Joe. — And you must be Joe, eh goes.
    — Aye, sais Joe, shakin ehs hand, but no gittin up oot the chair. — So you're oor Elspeth's felly then, aye?
    — I certainly am, eh smiles, at her, n ah catch um giein her hand a squeeze. She's lookin aw that daft wey at um, like she's nivir been oot wi a gadge before.
    — Love's young dream, that Sandra goes, cooin away, like one ay they big fat fuckin pigeons thit the auld man used tae keep. Ah mind ay wringin a couple ay the cunts' necks eftir eh'd battered ays once. The best thing tae dae wi they cunts, though, is tae set thum oan fire. It's barry watchin thum tryin tae take oaf, whin thir blazin away n screamin in agony. Ah'll gie yis fuckin cooin, ya cunts.
    Sometimes ah used tae jist go doon tae the loft oan ehs allotment and burn a couple ay the bastards thaire, or git yin n nail it tae the hut. Jist tae see the expression oan the auld fucker's face when eh came hame, aw pished n upset. Blamed every cunt n aw; vandals, gyppos, neighbours, publicans. Wanted tae kill half ay fuckin Leith. Ah'd be sittin thair in the chair opposite, lookin aw innocent, jist gaun, — Ohhh . . . which one wis it they goat this time, Dad? N he'd be fuckin well jist aboot in tears. The cunt wid smash up the hoose in a fit ay rage, before hittin the boozer again. Come tae think ay it, it wis probably me that drove the cunt tae drink! Him n ehs fuckin daft pigeons.
    That fuckin Sandra. Nivir mind the fuckin turkey, stick that fat cunt in the oven n wi'll be feedin half ay fuckin Leith through until next Christmas. Ah dinnae ken aboot stuffin it but, ah'll no be volunteerin fir they fuckin duties anywey. Nae fuckin chance!
    So this big, bloated rooster's right up tae Elspeth's boy. — Ah'm Sandra, Joe's wife, she sais tae this Greg, aw that flirty, slutty wey.
    This cunt goes up and kisses her twice, once oan each cheek, like some fuckin weirdo. Ah dinnae hud wi that, kissin a woman ye dinnae ken, in somebody's hoose. At Christmas, at a fuckin faimlay gatherin. Aye, ah'm watchin Kate, thinkin thit if eh does that tae her, eh's fuckin well gittin the nut rammed oan um. Fuckin smarmy poof.
    But she sees me lookin at her, n she kens how tae behave. Goat her well fuckin trained. Aye, she kens no tae show ays up. Must huv a word wi Joe aboot that Sandra, embarrassin um like that. Ah ken that big cow; a leopard nivir fuckin well changes its spoats, right enough. Used tae call her the 32 bus, back in the day. That wis cause every cunt rode her roond the schemes. Still, it's no fir me tae say. So Kate pits her hand oot for him tae shake, n keeps her eyes doon, away fae his. — Ah'm Kate, she mumbles.
    Handled that yin well. Aye, mibbe the message aboot eggin boys oan is startin tae git through. Jist as fuckin well, fir her sake. The wey ah see it is thit whin a lassie's wi somebody, she's no meant tae be giein other boys the come-on aw the time. Ye cannae trust a fuckin cow like that, n yuv goat tae huv trust in a relationship.
    This Greg looks aw surprised, n gies a wee smile. Somethin creepy aboot that bastard. Ken how some cunts jist set yir fuckin teeth oan edge? The fucker reminds ays ay that cunt ay an insurance man thit used tae come roond oor bit whin wi wir bairns. Eh'd eywis gie us these sweeties; really crap yins like dolly mixtures, aw that cheap shite. Aye, ye could tell he wis a fuckin right oily cunt underneath it aw. Ah eywis took the sweeties oaf the cunt, but. Too fuckin right ah did. Nivir liked that fucker though.
    The auld girl's been in the kitchen aw mornin, workin oan the meal. Her face is aw rid. She likes tae make a big effort fir Christmis. Widnae be me anywey. Fuck slavin ower a hoat stove oan Christmas Day. Ye cannae work oot what's gaun oan in some cunts' heids but. Now she's tryin tae organise every cunt; makin a big fuss aboot us aw openin oor presents under the tree. Ah'm no bothered wi aw that shite. Whae cares aboot fuckin presents? As far as clathes n aw that goes,