TREVOR MAKES A POINT...

‘Tell you what,’ he said as we stood in his shop just off the roundabout at the bottom of Jacob’s Wells Road. ‘...we should get rid of the middle class then the working class can really see the enemy, the cunts, the fucking upper class.’
‘Sounds like an idea,’ I said.
‘Why aren’t people angry? They seem to be asleep nowadays, for fuck’s sake. Punks were angry. I had some of them used to come in here, red hair out to here, drunk most of the time they were, but lovely boys...
‘...the French know what to do, when they’re angry they do something with it don’t just sit around and put up with it they start a riot, got rid of the royal family, that’s what we should do, revolution, take to the streets, take the streets back...’
‘How we going to do that?’
‘...raid any police station round here, they’ll have enough guns to go round, the cunts...’
‘You think?’
‘...fucking right. They’re ready for any trouble, the cunts. You’ve seen all the cameras so they can respond to any sign of trouble or uprising. See it one place and then give directions from a control centre, the cunts...’
‘And they’ve got helicopters.’
‘...the cunts.’
He took a breath, looked down, shook his head.
‘The problem is, everyone’s a fucking Tory. My fucking family, my brother, the cunt, he says, “oh, I’ve got a good job, with good money, and I don’t need anyone else,’ yeh, cunt, and I said, “Did you go to the boss and say, “I want more money?” he’d’ve laughed in your face, it was the union got it for you,” just looks at me the cunt...’
‘Couldn’t do it on his own.’
‘Course he fucking couldn’t, made me sick, the cunt, still does. He might be my brother but...’
‘...you don’t have to like him...’
‘...and I’ll tell you something else...’
‘...go on...’
‘...he’s a cunt...’