F**k Yeah! by Al Calm (english readers TXT) 📖

take it too far. I had a raging boner, I had to get out of there. Only way I knew how and to let off a bit of steam was to smack some of them. I think those kind of freaks enjoy that kinky thing. Anyway, I chipped out and met up with Hog. He pretended not to stare at me boner, but I think he was scared at all the blood on me trackies and shirt.

 

I wanted to get inside his head and give me the lowdown deep on how they’re knocking shit out wherever. Not worth it in some clubs as it's all a fucking con and they get raided they're fucked. It’s peoples jobs, Custard says to me, as if I should know better. So much easier to stick to pubs, not as well policed, make sure kids stay away and they're seen to be hot on the ID thing but fuck it all.

 

Pubs are fucking dead. I fucking hate pubs and all these trendy yuppie bars. Fucking Sharon and Tracey cattle market crap DJ clubs. Get in free, though you'll need a fucking bank loan for a few beers, but if the fashion police on the door don’t like the look of you, it’s twenty quid or not tonight mate! Fuck them. If they’re not full of kids during the day, they’re full of rugby wankers at night. Fuckers.

 

And I hate the wankers that run this country, they're fucking up me business plan. Not that I was planning on paying tax and all that shit, fuck that now – I'm always fucking broke! But these randoms are all wasted fuck ups, I don’t know how they get anything done. I ain’t a fuck up, but they’re close to incapable. Maybe they’re playing tough, pretend to know fuck all and be fucked up just around me, as they don’t know me that well yet. They just know me through Clive and Goofer.

 

Goofer starts filling me in on them too. I think Hog puts up with Goofer. He treats him like a little brother. He must have known him for time. I try to impress Hog with some of me clubbing knowledge, though I can't really remember shit. I don't even know if I went to some clubs, that's how fucked I was. I remember queuing for one club in Farringdon, getting pissed off just waiting, I was off me nuts. I nutted the bouncers and left. They fucking chased me for a bit, but they didn’t get me, I couldn't stop laughing. They fucking kept us waiting for ages. I don't wait long. If the queue ain't long, then I will tell them to speed it up. They want our fucking cash, right? Well they can make sure we're fucking sorted. Fucking so fucked.

 

Hog tells me about sometime he met Roni Size. I don't know who Roni Size is, but I nod. I should know, I suppose. I just make out I do know him. I tell you who I really dig, I dig that other guy who done that Brown Paper Bag tune. I don't say it to Hog just in case I get the dude wrong. Anyway, I say to Hog to impress him, to show him I know me hardcore shit, just because I 'm from Croydon don't mean I'm a fucking spazz who just waits for these DJs to bop to Croydon.

 

Yeah, I said I went to Global Gathering, saw Billy Bunter proper old skool ain’t he, from back in the day, yeah he was there, smashing it and I saw him cutting up some wood with a hacksaw while he was in the mix. Fucking mental, I go to Hog. Hog nods, smiling real creepy.

 

I think he knows I’m chatting shit, Hog just smiles, he probably knows I’m chatting shit. It’s like me classic raver story; I always churn out to these wasted fuckers, who fucking cares? Sounds like Hog's heard it before, though.

I cut to it and just say, So Hog mate who you get sorted from?

 

That's when it all clicks. Hog's as soft as fresh dog shit on a hot day.

INNIT? HUH? INNIT? HUH? That's all Hog says like real loud, as if he's a fucking don. Fucking muppet. I could've caved his face in, but I held it together for a bit longer. Guy's got a degree in bullshit, should be a fucking politician.

 

Look at Goofer, look how he does his lyrics, lookat his fukin shit! Fukin awful!

Oh me dayzzzz!!!! Fukin wot d’fuk! I got2 git dwn 4 sum rime time! fuk always up2spit bars/ can't keep wiv it on me mic, get me sum phat amps jungle dub style, juz 2 get fukd all time!!!! dat me I'z gaz/dem fuckaz call me goo fur sum shit lik it/ fuknos! so i dunt giva shit.

 

They all chat this shit. It’s getting peak for me. I smash me fist in me palm then thump Hog in the gob. His mouth all fulla blood, busted crown; he looks at me like he’s going to cry. He then starts laughing. I hate this fucker. I really hate him. I think about fucking Layla up the arse to calm down. I smack him again just for kicks. It doesn't feel good. I need another fucking line though. I've fucked me self more, I can't punch for shit.

 

Ugly fucking rat-looking Gollum with ginger dreads. His pale skin’s all shiny. I think I might kill him. I’m tough like that, I don’t give a fuck. They still ain’t found me aunt who was like ninety-seven or some shit. Fucking easy as conning her cash. Yeah, she won’t be found. I don’t know how people get busted, it’s all piss to me. I don’t like messing with these wasters but they know so many people I know they’re going to help me if they fucking like it or not.

 

Goofer smiles his spazzy smile at me, he’s got dried cum over his hands and he’s been spitting cotton all day. He looks at me, as if he’s some animal about to get culled. He tells me he’s done fuck all apart from watch porn, some old skool TV shows and wanked over Taylor Swift footage he’s got online. What a sad fucker.

 

I bell Clive up:

 

Oi cunt!

 

Huh?

 

Clive!

 

Who dee fook?

 

Clive - you fucking hearing me?

 

Clive was proper spazzing triptastic styley: Musky just heard Clive mumble: Shit bruv, my fucking cock's turning into a Stormtrooper dude! Whoa, fucking totally mental! Fuckin-shit-fuckin-fuckaz!

 

Fucking mobiles.

 

Usually all I get off the phone, get ears of bass and beats right at me. These fuckers never at home, never answer their fucking phones. Or they’re at some other fuckers gaff. Getting fucked. Fuckers. Not like I’m going to shift all six kees to Clive. He sounded spaced to fuck. He knows enough posh fuckers though thinking about it, he’ll make some of his trust fund back. Got to invest, UK always needs a bit more investment. Fucked up by politicians for their super rich mates to move in and carve up. Always the way fuckers, just capitalism innit! Hypocrites always say it, fucking full of shit. Horse faced rich kids piss me off, there’s nothing more than I like than to proper shaft them fuckers. They know they’re paying over the odds, they just want their shit but I’ve done a few with some real bad stuff in the past. It evens out.

 

They’re never going to experience the real shit of the world anyway. With trust funds and mummy and daddy to save them! Easy pickings for some, though. I just need to find them and that’s it. I need to find this Bungle Bob. I know Hog knows where he is. I’m not helping him shift shit again as he goes loco. Where the fuck he gone? He don’t answer his phone, when he does pick up all I hear is the pumping bass and why you shouldn’t take a call in a club with a wicked system.

 

He did text me just saying WTF? Or IDK but I ain’t spelling it out in a fucking text am I? Or what you done with your six kees? Fucking dumb fucker will be asking for bank transfers next!

 

He gets me worried this Bungle Bob. Porkball told me to watch him but I don’t know if Porkball’s a real cop. He might be just saying it. It’s surreal when he came around in his uniform, I think he was on shift. Came round me aunt’s flat for a quick toot. He’s well all right, well on the level. Definitely no hypocrite but I get the vibe he don’t trust me just yet. I don’t see why I should be content with me shit, I want to buy up Bob’s shit too. What the fuck’s wrong with that? I ain’t slowing down. Fuck Porky. Fuck Ken.

And when I find this Bob fucker I might batter him. I don’t get that fucker. He’s mean to be so connected but he don’t do shit like that to me. All these old timers are like it, think we’re easily mugged off. Fuck them, I’m from fucking Croydon, I don’t take no shit.

 

You hear Kool going out live at some gallery? Clive says to me. He’s being serious. I need a fat line, like a massive Scarface style one. Clive looking all poncy, like he’s some insider gets all the news early, he’s been chilling with Tiny McFuck too much. I nod, thinking what the fuck am I going to say to that? Fuck I don’t know. I think for too long, relight the zoot, thinking what the fuck, long awkward silence, a retarded stoner silence. I start laughing, then Clive looks at me.

Art all cool, I think it’s cool. Might see if Melissa wants to take the kids along. Sounds fucking wicked, Clive.

 

Clive smirks. No fucking way, he says to me. I ain’t going to some snot-nosed gallery. I don’t want to be around poshos making out they fucking know what the fuck they’re on about.

 

I realise Clive doing this fake thing that some kinda posh young people do when they make out they’re like real poor and working class. It ain’t that, they never really struggled. Clive just asks his old dear for cash and she always stumps up.

 

FUCK UP CREW

 

Really buzzing off me tits, couldn't find anything to eat for later on. Still buzzing on the MD-Xpress. Love those tunes. Yeah, had fuck all to eat for time, like proper long. Not like I can try eating even if I wanted to eat a horse, but it's been ages now and I got to try eating something. Fuck been off me face for days. I can't remember what went down. I wouldn't mind staring at some Ben and Jerry's, though. Ain't kidding, fuck all anywhere in this place. Always fucking freezing here. Might have something to do with the door always being left open. Shitty old latches, man. What can I say, people are just easy come and easy go here!

 

We all just chilling in a flat in Burnt Oak, just coming down. It ain't me flat, I just crash here now and again. Like a weird junkie commune vibe. See a lot of randoms,