He's twitching for a fight tonight.

I have a feeling spirits may have been taken. Fighting spirits.

He's had a shout at the crowd, and no-one fancies dancing his dance. They all turned back to the football on the telly, not bothered about the old guy making noise at the table in the back.

But now he's spotted the lad he wants to stick one on, f**king pansy, you think you're it don't you, I'll f**king show you.

His advancing age has given him glimpses of his own mortality, scared him, coalesced into bitterness, one drink turns into two, turns into grazed knuckles and sweet release - but only until the morning, and then the satisfaction has gone, but not the bitterness or the fear.

Posted By: Arizona Bay, Jun 26, 23:25:50