Tales from the Calpol Generation

The faces the spaces the places you sit in with one hand outside and the other on another plane where the head meets the sky, where dreams and reality cohabit on an altogether more realistic level.

Charlie Ben comes in from the kitchen with a carrier bag of booze. He passes one each to me and Mike. They fizz and hiss as we open them. Ben stands in front of us and says ‘Cheer’s lads’ and we all knock tins before lifting them to our mouths. Cool harsh beer courses down our throats. Ben starts talking about the match on Wednesday. ‘Did you see Biggs later? He was battered!’ We all laugh. Biggs had tried to hail a taxi after he had got thrown out but someone pulled his trousers down and he just stood their on the pavement in his boxer shorts. Then he was sick on the roadside and someone took him home. I wonder whether he will be out tonight. He probably will be.

The Gesellschaft.