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serious, did you print that?” Bull pretended he was unable to hear her over the loud music, and that he had misread the words emanating from her full red lips. He said,
    “I’m just big boned, I wouldn’t say I’m fat,” shouted Bull, adopting an insulted posture. The woman shook her head and replied,
    “No, I didn’t say you were fat,” shouted the woman again, pointing to the lower part of his torso, “I said did you print this?” Once more he pretended not to hear her.
    “The toilets are over there but have you seen the queues for the cubicles? They are really long. I would just hold off, if I were you.”
    “No you misunderstand me,” bawled the woman, screaming at the top of her voice, “I didn’t say I needed a piss!”
     
    The last word left her mouth just as the band abruptly ended their song, and immediately before the inevitable sound wave of rapturous applause. A hardcore group of fans momentarily singled her out as the source of the expletive. She looked bewilderedly at Bull and then she caught a glimpse of an impish smile, and realised that he had been toying with her. She laughed and then said with a smile,
    “Hi, my name is Saffron. That was a mean trick you just played.”
     
    Throughout the evening, various environmental campaigners made speeches, bands came and went and people queued to sign the Green Covenant, proclaiming themselves as Green Covenanters and wear the green bracelet on their wrists. Bull and Saffron swayed in time to the music, side by side and occasionally taking furtive sideways glances at each other. At the end of the concert a spokesman for the Green Movement entered the stage. She had a message to tell the leaders of the world, and taking a microphone in her hand she said,
    “Enough is enough. We, the peoples of the world demand systemic change before you destroy the planet’s ecosystems and resources. Join with me today and tomorrow, we will start a revolution!” The crowd cheered and then jeered as a Snatch Squad moved in to arrest a boy on the fringe of the crowd.
     
    Bottles, sticks and rocks rained down on the police lines. The crowd went into a euphoric uproar as the police retreated, and then the throng stopped to gaze at the digitalised fog emerging above their heads. Harrowing images the starving and the dying flashed across the sky. These were followed by snapshots of laughing city financiers smoking cigars and drinking champagne. Satellite images of other protest events across the world appeared. The crowd cheered again. In the distance, the police lines had reformed and steadily they moved back towards the crowd. Bull turned to Saffron and said, “All this talk about famine is making me hungry. Do you want to go and get something to eat?” Saffron looked at him reproachfully. Then seeing another mischievous smile, she laughed.
     
    They exited the park through a hole in the fence and walked through the city. After an hour they arrived at the High Street, stopping outside the cathedral, to gaze up at the gothic structure, bathed in artificial light. They crossed the road to the Cathedral House bar and ordered malt whisky and slices of pizza until closing time. Later, walking into the Merchant City, Saffron said,
    “I’m not calling you Bull, that’s a ridiculous name.”
    “Everyone calls me Bull, except for my family back in Salford.”
    “What did your father call you, the day you were born?” Bull thought for a moment and then said,
    “I don’t know, I was too young to remember, but apparently I was breast feeding and my dad called me a greedy little fucker.”
    “Stop teasing me!” said Saffron pushing Bull’s shoulder. “What were you called when you were young and don’t say Bullock or I will slap you.” Bull smiled and then said,
    “Faerrleah O’Connell is my name, but Faerrleah is a bit of a mouthful so I go by my moniker which is Bull.” He played with Saffron’s long dreadlocked hair and then looked into her large brown