Monthly Archives: June 2010

We are the tough boys of the neighbourhood. Look at us with our hoodies. Look at us. I’m makin’ you look at us because I’m lookin’ at you when you walk by.

Yeah. I’m lookin’ at you. I see you lookin’ back at me. Is that fear in your eyes? I think it is. I think it’s fear. Disgust? Maybe. People tell me I look like an orc. Doyler called me Orco after we went to see the lord of the rings in Liffey Valley and they all call me that now. I don’t care though. I am Orco. Everyone knows my name. At least I’m not an albino like Macker. He’s a pigmenty cunt, or somethin’.

Makes me look even tougher. Because I am tough. I’m fuckin’ tellin’ ya. Watch me hang around the alleyway beside the laundry place. I smoke and I can spit out lumps of green stuff. When it’s not green I can spit out between the gap in me teeth.

I drop litter on the ground when everyone can see me but nobody ever says anything apart from that woman that time but she’s just a fuckin’ bitch but nobody else says anything because they’re afraid. Bag of chips? Ground. Bottle o’ coke? Ground. Mars bar wrapper? Ground. Empty box of Johnny Blue? Ground.

Come on then and say somethin’ if you’re brave enough. But you won’t, because we’re the tough boys. Watch us walk the footpath and not get out of the way of old ladies who are pullin’ their trollies with the messages. Watch us go after the little kids who are playin’ football and who go mad when we nick their ball. Little eejits. That baldy bollix down the road who keeps givin’ the young lad the old footballs from his car would want to watch himself. We’ll drop litter outside his gaff.

We love the fear. We love it because we’re tough. And we drink. Did I mention that? We might be 15 but we can get served in the off-licence beside the posh chinkies. They don’t give us any fuckin’ hassle. No chance. Sometimes the auld fella does but then we just get out of the IDs that Gitch made and he can’t fuckin’ say anythin’.

We drink. Proper drinkers we are. All fuckin’ day we can do it. We do get locked. And you can see it in the offy when we’re buyin’. The other customers stand back. They’re afraid. They can see what we’re about. You don’t wanna get in our way, let me fuckin’ tell you.

We are the tough boys. We are the hoodie wearing drinkers who smoke hash too. They make way. They let us go to the counter first. It’s respect. It’s fear.

And when you see all eight of us and 18 bottles of blue Wkd you’ll know what to do too.