Youth is wasted on the young
By Len Morgan
“Shuddup yer noisy little scrote, or I’ll give you a
right slappin!” she grabbed the girl by her hair, dragging her closer to the
pushchair, occupied by a screaming, grubby faced infant with candlewax running
from his nose. “Shutit Jamile or I’ll sort you too!”
Jemile increased the volume by a few decibels.
“Bloody kids! Can’t you shut em up? They’re doin me head In!”
“Maybe if you got a job you’d have somethin else to screw wiv it!”
“Work? Wots that? Last refuse of my famlee.”
“My parents worked all their lives. They got a house, a pension, and a proper lifestyle. They don’t avta wait for handouts from the dole.” You’re spunging on their taxes…”
“Wot I’d pay if I wos mug enuf to work? Anyway my dads gota penshun.”
“I didn’t know your dad had a pension.”
“He doesn’t, it’s me granddads.”
“I thought he’d been dead for years?”
“Yea, but the penshun cumpernee don’t know that.”
“How old was he when he… (Shut it Jamile) ~ Died?”
“Ninety free!”
“Aint they twigged it yet?”
“Nah we jus showem his telegram from the queen; innit.”
“Wot about his death certificate… Jamile!”
“Nah we didn’t report is def, we put Im on a bomfire, 5th November, made a grate guy…”
“Sasha, come back here!” She grabbed Sasha and hauled her back to the pushchair.”
“But I wanna see the puppies in that cage,” she tried to pull away again.
“Honestly, I akst you to do one simple fing; stay here wive the chair…”
“But I want…” she received a resounding slap.
.-...-.
“Kelvin? When’s bomfire night?”
“I told yer it’s the fifth.”
“Three days… Does the guy have to be male?”
“Ha ha haa! Fault yer wer gonna…
(Youth
is wasted on the young ~ Kevin Andersson)
supposed to be comedy... Your right Chris, it isn't easy!
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