Louis Mellis

And you, Mr. Freddie Mays, you had to go swimming in her eyes. Dancing in her hair. You had to slip into her mouth, slide over her tongue. Fall down her throat, deep down into her belly. Right into her blood. You had to fall asleep wrapped around her beautiful, beating heart.

One day I'll catch up with you. You want a war? I'll give you a fucking war one arm tied behind me back. I'll shoot you - blow you to kingdom come. They'll need a dustpan and brush to scrape you off the walls. Make mincemeat out of ya. Pie and mash, puddles of blood. I'll leave you lying there. Go rot, the lot of you. Calling me a cunt?

Rip your face off. I'll fucking… I'll, I'll fucking… burn ya.

Freddie Mays. Freddie Mays! I don't need ya, Freddie. Who am I?

I'm Superman! King fucking Kong! I can pick you up and throw you a million miles. I'm number one. Number fucking one. I'm number one. Number fucking one. Number one! Number one! Number one!

Number one! Number one! Number one! One One One One! Number fucking one! I'm number one.

What? With Scotland Yard breathing down me neck? Fuck off. Do me a favor!

I bet she's never farted in front of you, has she? Has she? No- I thought not. I mean, that's not romantic, is it? You just want the perfume clouds, the romance, the magicalness of it all- the false crap. Well, I've got news for you, Sonny Jim- that's not love. Love's hard work, hard graft. Love can be murder. Love is watching what she wants to watch on the tely, taking her the papers and a cup of tea on a Sunday morning in bed and inquiring to how she might be feeling, "You all right, Liz?" whilst plumping up her pillows. And she might get irritated by that, but you gotta take it on the chin and broad shoulders, because she's the queen, and you're the bee- the Dad. And so what if you cook the dinner and you get no thanks for it? Don't do it if you expect thanks. That's not why you do it. And yes, you forgot the dripping tap for ten years, and then one day- for whatever reason, fuck knows why- you get off your fat ass and you find yourself under the sink with a spanner in your hand and you're smiling like fuck- because you know it's gonna please her. And if she don't notice it, she don't notice it- it don't matter. It's fixed. It's plumbed. It's the maintenance of a marriage, the nuts and bolts, the nitty gritty, the reality- that's life, that's love, it ain't easy- nobody ever said it was gonna be easy. It's fucking hard work. But, you know, love can be… lovely. One day, you'll be in the bathroom, having a shave in front of the mirror, all soap on your face, and you feel her approaching you. She's hung a pair of tights, hanging on the radiator. And as she leaves, she pats you on the bum and gives you a tiny smile- almost not a smile- but a smile nevertheless. And it will mean the world to you- the whole. incredible world- the fucking universe.

I want you dead. I think you owe me that. I do. Because that's what you've done to me. You've fucking killed me.

Well fuck off then. Go on, get. Fuck off. I'll be alright. Selfish bastard. I ain't gonna stop you. I'll tell you. You fuck off, you horrible cunt. You traitor. I hate you.

Don't you… a nasty, unfaithful cow who sucked another man's bellend, tell me, fucking tell me, that I'm calling you names. Who is he?

Who is he? Tell me the cunt's name, I want to know.

Oh just a guy. Not a bloke, not just a bloke. He's a guy. He's a cunt. I'll cut his cock off when I find him.

No that's right, stick up for the cunt. 'Cos you're on his side. Side of the guy. Well let me tell you something Liz, and mark my fucking words, I will tear the flesh off his face with my teeth and stick it in your fucking handbag.