That wis it. The end. Finito. A wisnay goan oan the bevvy again, no fur a long while onywey. A couldnay fuckin affoard it, man, oot in the pub, buyin...
"It's no goin, is it?" whispered Billy. "Ye're no gettin it." "Shut yer hole," A hissed. There's nuthin worse than huvin some fannypad nippin at yer...