That was what they would think. People were like that, that was what they thought, the worst, the world’s worst—about ye, if they wanted to think something about ye well that was they thought man the worst.

Thinking ye’re fuckt but ye’re no. Sex is a help. Cause it means ye’re fucking alive. Know what I’m talking about, like it or no man ye’re alive, ye’re still in the kicking. A fucking hardon man it can get ye out of trouble: ye go, Fuck sake, well well well, here I am. Jesus christ!

Cause without the sex ye wouldnay know it. It’s true but. That was something Sammy noticed a lot. Without the sex ye’re nothing, ye’re just fucking—who knows man just ye’re fuckt, ye hit the bevy; ye do some dope; whatever. Sometimes ye just sit there or ye lie down: ye’re stuck in the depths, ye’re so far gone there’s nothing there at all, just a fucking blank. One long blank. It gets interrupted by wee clear patches. And in these wee clear patches there’s a bit of ye trying to find a way out like ye’re angling for the means to escape, to get yerself on the mend.

There’s another way ye know ye’re on the mend, that’s when ye find yerself humming a tune.

A guy once telt Sammy about complications; he asked him about whether he had a girlfriend or no. Sammy had been married at the time. It was just after he had landed inside that last time. He hadnay wanted to speak to the guy so he telt him it was too complicated, he didnay want to talk about it. And the guy said, Listen pal ye come inside ye’re a complicated person, when ye go out ye’re still a complicated person but the complications are different. All yer other complications go away. People forget about ye; the goodies I’m talking about, the only ones remember ye are the fucking baddies; they still want to fuck ye.

People are so polite: they get knocked down by a motor car and they get up and fucking apologise; Pardon me; that’s what they say: Pardon me; then they give the bonnet of the motor a pat and a wee dight with their fucking jacket sleeve to take off the blood: Sorry mate I messed up yer paintwork. Ye could understand it but, trying to get by in the world: that was all ye were doing, trying no to upset cunts, no letting them upset you.

And whatever, he would be doing his best. If his best wasnay good enough it wasnay his problem.