Saturday Night's Alright...
He never meant to harm that girl. He wouldn’t hurt nobody. Still lives with his mum. Good to her, he is; takes her shopping most every Friday. They’re in the fishmongers, right, and she fancies skate for tea.
He says, “Put your purse away, Mum. It’s my treat.”
The ‘gentle giant’ everyone calls him. Known him years.
Saturday nights we have a couple of jars down the ‘Wellington’. He’d seen this bird in there a few times before and they’d eyed each other up. Anyhow, this particular Saturday she walks in dolled up to the nines. They ‘click’, if you get my drift, and he takes her home – says she could use some company. Invites him to stay the night.
He says, “OK then. You sure, love?”
She was and so he does, and then one thing leads to another. Know what I mean? The following afternoon, that’s when your lot barge in. Arrest him – march him down the nick and he calls me on the mobile.
Look, he’s just a regular bloke. Dressed to kill, she was. A misunderstanding, that’s all. She just never says, “No” or “Yes,” not that he recalls. Anyway, ain’t that what Saturday nights are for?