See this man coming down the street? That’s Fergus Flannery; he’s angry and he’s just been told to ‘chillax man’ by his brother who does nothing but chillax; usually full length on the sofa while their mother or Fergus vacuums round him.
But Fergus doesn’t want to chillax because, at the cafe where he pulls a couple of shifts and where they don’t give him tricky things to do like money and taking orders, a fat bloke shovelling chips into his face called him an effing retard. Then the fat bloke looked at Fergus Flannery’s name badge and called him a double effing retard. He found this so funny that he sprayed a mouthful of chewed up chips all over Fergus’s badge, down his apron, and onto his polished shoes. Later, he knocked his pudding onto the floor, blamed Fergus, and demanded another one, which the Boss wouldn’t give him so he nicked his mate’s. Then he sat there, laughing and churning his apple crumble round with his big mouth wide open so it looked like a cement mixer, and globbing even more mess onto Fergus’s clean table.
I should probably tell you that Fergus’s ironed red apron, his smart yellow name badge and his shiny clean tables mean a lot to Fergus, as does not being made to look stupid in front of Jenny who works the till. Fergus has been trying to get into Jenny’s knickers for a while now, but with this happening he’s pretty sure she won’t fancy him and that the skinny bloke who loads the dishwasher and rides a big noisy motorbike with space for a passenger on the back will be in there fast as you like.
Well, Fergus doesn’t like, no matter that he already has a girlfriend. To Fergus, having at least two girlfriends at once is an investment; like his savings account which his mother says is a Good Christian Thing To Have. She says saving makes him a damn-sight-better-pardon-the-
swearing than his layabout brother who saves nothing at all except his own energy, so why should Jesus bother saving him? Jesus, she says, would most likely save Fergus instead because even though he’s not quite the full shilling, he’s a good steady lad and no trouble. But then Fergus’s mother doesn’t know about his plans regarding Jenny’s knickers. Anyway Fergus is proper upset now and after popping into work to borrow something, he’s stomping down the street to the park where the fat bloke is holding court on a bench, like he’s a king or something.
He’s not smart, isn’t Fergus, but he knows what his mother says about how cleanliness is next to godliness and that not enough goddamn-sinners are getting their goddamn-jussdesserts-pardon-
the-swearing. He knows about all of the seven deadly sins too and he’s pretty sure that none of them says you can’t stick a knife in a goddam-sinner as a jussdessert if they’ve got it coming, pardon the swearing.