Filth by Irvine Welsh

down. I hope I’ve not got Aids or something, from some fucking hoor. I must eat more. I can’t put on weight, I never could. Fast metabolism, not like some of the blobs in this place. If it was up tae me, I’d weigh every cunt on the force annually and whoever didn’t make the required weight would be out on their fat arses. Weightist? You fuckin well bet your sweet ass!
    I get a whiff from the canteen. I investigate and there’s fish pie which looks interesting. – Awright Ina? I ask the auld girl behind the counter.
    – You’re early the day Bruce, she says.
    – I was tempted by the fish pie.
    – With chips?
    – Magic Ina, and bung on some beans as well, I tell her, savouring that big, gorgeous congealed mass of sludge. The fish pie isnae too bad either.
    I sit down and enjoy my meal. Ray Lennox comes over and joins me. – Awright Bruce? Seen the paper? He thrusts it in front of me. There’s another headline about local coons criticising the police. One of them’s that Forum cunt Marshall, speaking, of course, in another capacity. They get in far too many capacities, shit-bags like that.
    – Shite. These silverys are about naught-point-one per cent of the population. They’ve got far too much to say for themself. They should call that paper the ‘Coon, Poof, Silly Wee Lassie, Schemie and Communist News’. I only read it for the fitba and Andrew Wilson. He’s the only one that talks any sense on that fuckin paper, even if he is a Hibby Leith bastard.
    – It gets on my fuckin tits, Ray says, shaking his head. His eyes are staring, the cunt looks a bit manic.
    – Listen Ray, I wanted to speak to you about something. I ken you’re no officially on this investigation, but I think we should pay our pal Ocky a wee visit the morn. It being Friday, it would be nice to fuck up the cunt’s weekend fine-style by getting him to keep his ears open on our behalf. You might get some info on the collies if we shake the fucker doon. Wi Christmas comin up they’ll aw want sorted oot wi gear.
    – The spunk-bag’s been a bit remiss lately. Forgotten who his real mates are. His mates on this side of the divide, Ray smiles.
    Say what you like aboot Ray Lennox, he’s polis through and through. – Time we reminded him, I smile. – So what’s been happening your end young Raymondo?
    – The usual bollocks. I’m still stalking those cunts from that Sunrise Community. They’re supposed to be cannabis suppliers. It’s a fuckin waste of time, but what can you do?
    Anything other than posh is a waste ay time for that cunt. But I can see his point. What’s the point of being on D.S. duty if ye cannae get access tae any decent collies?
    – Listen Robbo, he whispers, – I’m on these benzedrines. They’ll do the biz in the meantime. They keep you going when you’re a bit fucked. Want a couple?
    – Aye, I tell him.
    He slides me a plastic packet of pills. – I got them on a bust. The charlie situ should improve tonight.
    – Good, I smile, pocketing the pills.
    – What about this fuckin EO’s briefing? Ray asks.
    – Shouldnae take mair than an ooir, I say, shuddering as the big blonde hoor from central admin comes past. I give her the eye but she’s not biting. Probably lesbo tendencies. – Ride thon, eh Ray?
    – No half.
    – Any luck? Ah saw you sniffin roond it doon the cannie this mornin.
    – Nah, she shags on recommendation only. Ah heard that she’s a size freak. She finds oot fae the other lassies likes ay Karen Fulton n that crowd, who the guys wi the really big packets are and she’ll only fuck them.
    – That’s you oot the runnin then, eh? I laugh, thinking about the time we had a session with my sister-in-law Shirley.
    – Cheeky cunt, Ray says, a slight beamer on his face. – Listen, we’d better nash to this briefing.
    – Aye, right.
    In the event, the EO briefing only takes half an hour. I even get on Niddrie’s good side when I hit a note with the cunt on politics, much to Amanda