Glue by Irvine Welsh Page B

Birrell, Birrell, Birrell, Birrell, Birrell. The sportsman, isn’t it?
    — A . . . yes, sir.
    — The football. The boxing, yes. Football and boxing, isn’t it, Mr Birrell? Eh’s still grippin ma shoodir hard, diggin intae it wi ehs fingers.
    — Yes, sir.
    Blackie considered Birrell wi a genuine sadness in ehs eyes. Eh lits go ay ma shoodir. — So disappointing. You of all people should be showing leadership, Birrell, Blackie says, glancin at me n Carl like wi wir rubbish. Eh looked back tae Billy who wis just starin ahead. — Leadership. Sport, Birrell; sport and time are indivisible concepts. A football match lasts for how long?
    — Ninety minutes . . . sir, Billy goes.
    — A boxing round is how long?
    — Three minutes, sir.
    — Yes, and school also functions on the concept of time. When does registration commence?
    — Eight-fifty, sir.
    — Eight-fifty, Mr Birrell, eh says, then eh turns tae Carl. — Eight-fifty, Mr Ewart. Then eh looks at me. — What is your name, boy?
    — Andrew Galloway, sir, ah goes. The dressin-doon the cunt wis giein us wis fuckin mortifyin, cause thir wis gadges gaun past fae the other classes, n lassies n aw, n they wir aw laughin at us.
    — Spell ‘sir’ will you, Mr Galloway? eh asks.
    — Eh . . . ah goes.
    — Wrong! There is no ‘a’. Spell ‘sir’.
    — S-I-R.
    — Correct. S-I-R. Not S-U-R, eh sais. — Andrew Galloway . . . he looks at his watch. — Well, Mr Galloway, registration, as your associates tell me, commences at eight-fifty. Not eight-fifty-one. Eh sticks ehs watch in ma face n taps it. — Certainly not nine-o-six.
    For a while ah thought that the cunt wis gaunny jist lit us go withoot giein us the web, cause eh’d been struttin aroond like eh’d made a big point. One ay us should huv sais ‘sorry sir’ or some shite like that, cause it wis like eh wis waitin oan us tae say somethin. Bit naw, we wir sayin nowt like that, no fir that wanker. So eh marched us intae ehs office. Thaire’s the web sittin oan the desk, it’s the first thing ah see. Ah goat a sinkin feelin in ma guts.
    Blackie slapped ehs hands thegither n rubbed thum. Thir wis big chalk marks oan ehs blue suit jaykit. We’re standin in line. Ah’ve goat ma hands oan the radiator behind ma back, warmin thum up fir what’s tae come. Blackie gies the web sair. Eh’s rated one ay the top three behind Bruce fae Tecky n mibbe Masterton, the Science cunt, though Carl reckons eh’s hud it sairer offay Blackie thin eh did offay Masterton. — Our society is founded on responsibilities. One of the cornerstones of responsibility is punctuality. The late never achieve anything, eh sais, lookin at Billy, — in sport, Birrell, or in anything else. A school which tolerates lateness is by definition a failed school. It is a failed school because it has failed to prepare its pupils for a life of work.
    Carl wis gaunny say something. Eh eywis speaks up fir ehsel, that cunt; yuv goat tae gie it tae um. Ye could see um, sortay hestitatin,gittin ready. Then Blackie looked at him, wi ehs neck juttin forward and ehs eyes bulging oot. — Do you have something to say, Ewart? Speak up then, boy!
    — Please sir, Carl goes, — it’s jist thit thir isnae really any jobs now. Like where muh Dad works, at Ferranti’s, they jist peyed oaf a loat ay men.
    Blackie looked at Carl in sheer disgust. The fuckin coupon oan the specky cunt; ye kin see thit eh thinks the likes ay us are nowt. That goat me gaun. — United Wire huv peyed oaf people n aw, sir. And Burton’s Biscuits oan the estate.
    — Quiet! Blackie snapped. — You’ll speak when you’re spoken to, Galloway! Insolent young man, eh sais, lookin us up n doon like we wir sodjirs oan report. — There’s plenty of work for those that are prepared to work. Always has been, always will be. The lazy and the work-shy on the other hand, they will always find an excuse for their indolence and sloth.
    Funny, but him sayin indolence and sloth