For a start there was no-one in town (that I could see) who could have been over the age of 16 unless they were the poor sods working in the shops, kept open on a Thursday night out of nothing but greed. All there were that I could see were these cretinous little scumbags from the estates (usually Short Strand) who have nothing better to do than piss people off. The usual, you get them everywhere. Then you've the groups of about six or seven girls, all competing with each other to see who could talk the loudest and thus be heard by everyone in the centre of Belfast. If that's the mating call of a thirteen year old girl then so be it - but I left my iPod at home so I couldn't drown out the noise which went something like "HERE KERRY [pronounced "kar-ree"] GIVE ME THAT HERE" Kerry says "NO" [a strange Australian rise in pitch on the O]. Third one "HERE ISN'T THAT YER WEE MAN WHO LOUISE SEEN ON WEDNESDAY HE'S FOCKIN STENKIN LIEEK" (sic). Reaching for my trusty pocket klaxon to restore order to the town, I was interrupted by what could only be described as "gang warfare".
Two groups of lads in Celtic tops started to beat the crap out of each other on Ann Street, the only reason for it that I could hear was that one lad called another "gay boy". Two things wrong with this:
1 - Despite what religion thinks, being gay is not an illness or anything to be ashamed of
2 - What the hell were these kids doing in the town unsupervised at 8.45 pm??!!
I can only think of one scenario - these kids parents collect their bru on whatever day of the week, give their kids two quid to get out of the house for a few hours (until the police drag them home later on - they spent their bus fare home on a permanent marker and have either gotten high off it or have written "GARY IS GAY" on the shutters of H. Samuels ). What the parents do in this time I'll never know. Mum is at Bingo and Dad gets four tins of Lidl's own branded "lager-beer" (Ingredients: piss and fizz) to see the night through (probably) whilst watching cable TV that the whole street gets "cos Dessie intiminadated yer man from NTL".
Either way, I left. Turned on the spot and headed elsewhere. Just before the shutter at Seanna's work opened, the riot van passed the remains of what used to be the band stand.
That's when I started thinking. In this day in age, where saving money for the NHS is more important than a person's life, my taxes are not saving lives. They're going on an armour plated taxi ride home for kids who will inevitably never amount to very much thanks to their uncaring parents.
