Chapter Five
Vinnie crawled out of his stale-smelling bed at half past ten the next morning. He felt like death warmed over. He’d had a right case of the shits all night, and he knew from what—that poncey ready-meal he’d had for his tea the day before. Pavement pizza, that’s what it was. Perfect for them poncey city boys in their poncey apartments, but not for real men like Vinnie Clark.
“Fuckin’ hell, Vinnie! At least ya could’ve sprayed the bog with that air freshener!” cried Desmond, making a fast beeline out of the toilet before he’d had a chance to use it. “Ya tryin’ to kill me or what?”
“Yeah, well, ya shoulda let me go down the chippy instead of feedin’ me that—”
“It weren’t that bad.”
“Tell it to me gut,” moaned Vinnie, rubbing his beer paunch as if it pained him.
Desmond sho
