On Saturday night I went to a bonfire party. There was a bonfire (obviously) and fireworks. There was chili and fruit cobbler. There were sparklers, copious amounts of vodka, good conversation and, bizarrely, a Hungarian wedding video.
At the end of the night I got a taxi home with a man and his girlfriend, neither of whom I had met before the party. They just happened to be going in the same direction as me and offered to take me along. He was that particular brand of northern man. The type with oodles of confidence, a swagger and a mouth that never stops moving. Below are the edited highlights of his non-stop chatter.
Upon passing a police car:
"That's me usual lift home."
After getting out of the taxi to try and buy cigarettes at a 24 hour corner shop:
"That security guard slapped me in the face. If that'd been in town I would've twatted him."
Five minutes later:
"I'm a lover not a fighter."
Five minutes later still:
"I was a wrongun' in me youth. I used to get into to fights when I saw men beating on lasses. You never hit a lass. Fuckin' cowards they are. You never hit a lass. I've only done it once like. She'd been brayin' on me for 2 hours."
One minute later:
"I'm a nice lad."
After striding in the middle of the road front of a moving vehicle:
"Alright man. Can't you see I'm walking. Think you fucking own the road. Arrogant twat."
To his girlfriend:
"Don't look at me like that. You know I'm a nice lad. I'm a nice lad."