Saturday, 15 August 2009
Pocanhontas McSeveny needed a role model. All the best talk shows recommended it. Here she was fifteen and the wee yin, Burberry would be off to pre-school shortly and out from under her K-swiss trainers.
What should she do next? She needed direction in her life. School was rubbish; the teachers got pure stroppy if you said the f-word. Work was rubbish cos you had to – well, work. What should she do? Fifteen years-old and Life was passing her by.
She needed a role model. She switched on the flat-screen 52incher leaning up against the wall. Jeremy Kyle should be coming on. Mandela McConnachie got the TV for her. Says it fell out of the back of a Vauxhall Corsa SRI. Says he wants to help with the wean. What's that all about? He gives you the bobby and thinks that makes him a faither? Dream on. She made the L-shape over her forehead with spread thumb and forefinger.
Now his Da was different class – Mahatma McConnachie. Always ready with a joke and a can of Carlsberg. Mind you she sees less of him since he got broadband. He's pure become an internet shopaholic. Says it would be rude to ignore all these nice people sending him messages offering to sell him stuff. The last time she was over at theirs he had watches running up and down both arms, a 12 foot high pile of loan applications to use to pay off other loan applications – and permanently engorged erectile tissue. It was making him pure humphy-backit. And bless him, he got a reddy when she noticed.
Jeremy Kyle was brilliant. Some ugly dude failed his lie-detector test. He WAS having an affair with the uglyfat wummin. The uglyskinny wummin was about to sink the heid on her. They then tried to rip the hair out of each other’s head while the ugly dude looked on, pure amazed that he could get one woman let alone two. Jeremy then helpfully pointed out to the women that their problems weren’t with each other. So they turned on the fella. Pocahontas almost felt sorry for him what with the crowd boo-ing him, Jeremy shouting at him and the two women trying to re-arrange his genitalia with their footwear that just had to be bought out of Primark.
Once the credit rolled she decided to go for a walk –chill out with her mates down at the swings, innit. She was pure down with that idea. And she was getting confused with the American/ ScotNed slang.
An older lassie was there. A big mac in one hand and a mcdonalds breakfast in the other. A large coke by her feet. She was sitting on the ground between the swings, cos her fat arse wouldn’t fit on the swing-seat.
- You hungry, hen? The other lassie asked.
- Aye, said Pocahontas.
- Well, McDonalds is just round the corner, she laughed so hard she choked on a mouthful of soggy roll.
Pocahontas sat on the swing beside her, just managing to fit between the chains.
- What’s your name?
- Pocahontas, she answered.
- Nice one. I’m Chardonnay
- Breakfast? Pocahontas nodded in the direction of the food.
- And lunch, Chardonnay smiled showing a piece of lettuce was stuck to her front teeth – it’ll keep me going till elevenses.
- You not worried about getting fat...she looked at the pillow of fat around the other girl’s waist and the swell of her thighs. Looked like she not only ate all the pies, but she ate the piemaker and his wife and weans.
- Nah, says Chardonnay. Eat as much as you like. Get as fat as fuck then they give you the op. Stomach band. The weight pure falls off you.
- Cool, says Pocahontas mentally counting the loose change in the pocket of her tracky bottoms. Enough for a couple o’ doughnuts?
(Just in case it isn't clear - humphy-backit is a scots word for hump-backed.)