The park bench social club

"Look at her, perched on that bench with her bag of white lightning, thinks she's Queen of the park. It's my bench by rights, I've been sitting on that bench for twenty years, on and off, yet she lords over it as if it were part of her estate.

"We should go over, tell them it's our bench."

"No, you know what Herself is like. There'll be an altercation. She likes to altercate."

"Molly's alright though, her friend. We could go over an talk to Molly."

"Na, She'll get in the way, She'll altercate. We'll sit here instead."

"Here's alright."

"It's not the same. This is just a standard council issue bench, there are dozens like it. That bench was built in loving memory of Mrs Cecilia Stroggins, 1913 to 1982."

"Mrs Cecilia Scroggins. Must be good to have a bench named after you."

"Not just any bench, you can see the whole park from that bench, it's like the centre of the universe."

"Wow, so the whole world revolves round that bench."

"It does. It's opposite the refreshments hut, so you always get people coming over, talking to you, sometimes buying you stuff. Just last week a young gentlemen presented me with a flapjack."

"You had a fling wiv Herself once didn't yer."

"One time. Only one time. Never again. I was staying at that vicar's house, the one near King's Cross who let's people stay. Put me up for the night, he did, had a whole room to meself. I was spread out like a king, pants across the radiator, so as to be warm on next morning."

"Warm pants. Can't beat warm pants."

"I was just noddin' off when she stomps in, all boots and language. So much for a room to meself, and 'fore I nose it she's pushed her bed right up against mine, and 'fore I nose it she's pushed herself up against me."

"You didn't keep with her though."

"Na, she's unpredictable, she can be nice, but look at her, sat there screaming at the world, she's like a holy man who's lost her god."

"That Molly's OK though. We could go over."

"Na, sit down, I've got sommat to show yer. I found this newspaper and I happened to read upon it. Do you know who's been acting prime minister while that posh bloke 'ad 'is baby. Nick Clegg. Nick fuckin' Clegg."

"Oo?"

"You remember Nick Clegg, used to frequent that bench over there, near that dog. He used to get a big jug of scrumpy every night, really strong stuff, and he'd gulp it all down in 'alf an hour or less, never share none of it, then he'd just collapse asleep where he was, snoring 'is head off.

"I've seen that Nick Clegg off 'is face, vomit all down 'is shirt, piss stains down 'is trousers. And they've left 'im running the country."

"I think it's a different Nick Clegg."

"Oh he's different all right, not 'eard a word from 'im since he's been living it up in Downing Street. Not 'ad my invitation to any Downing Street reception, no champagne and caviar supper for yours truly, he's forgotten 'is old friends has Nick Clegg."

"Look, they're going."

"They are too. Quick, let's get to the bench 'fore anyone else does. You'd better run ahead, I can't move quick wiv my legs."

"I'll save you a seat."

"That's right, quick though, 'fore anyone else gets there. Run Sebastian run."