A few years ago I wrote a couple of short stories featuring Sean and Diffy, two disparate Northern wasters. I have dragged them out of retirement for a laugh.
Sean and Diffy
A Day In The Life
Waking up in casualty is no big deal after about the forty fifth time. It's clean, warm and doesn't smell of piss: well not much, anyway. It's a sight better than waking up in the gutter surrounded by vomit, rats and other assorted arseholes. Casualty is a bloody great leveller. The flotsam and jetsam of society can rub Matalan clad shoulders with life's winners. All it takes is a shedload of ale and a couple of ill directed insults. Biff! Bash! Bosh! You have a big fat lip, a broken nose and several badly bruised ribs.
Sean Harrison: idiot of this parish, girded his loins, touched his big fat lip with the tip of one big fat finger and tried to remember to breathe through his mouth. He swaggered out of the hospital's automatic doors, 'Swish'' Have a nice day, shithead', pulled the hood of his………hoodie? Over his head and walked down the street in the general direction of 'away'.
He hadn't gone more than a hundred yards before the P.O.R.G known as 'Diffy stepped out from behind a low laurel hedge, pulled up the zip of his urine stained trousers, and hailed Sean with a sociable. 'Hey!….Twat!' (P.O.R.G. Person Of Restricted Growth.)
Hardly breaking his stride, Sean crossed the road, walked up to Diffy and slapped him across the face. 'Hey! You fucking dwarf, what the fuck are you doing here?'
Diffy fell in beside him, Did that odd army skipping thing with his feet in order to fall into step and grinned the grin. He loved Sean. Sean was his hero. He would have let Sean sodomize him in a heartbeat.
'Wanna go McDoodas for a burger, Sean? My treat.'
'No I don't, Diffy. Now fuck off back down whichever hole you crawled from.'
'I said, my treat, Se…..'
'On second thoughts, O fuckin K. I could do with a bit of scran, and seeing as you're shoving your fat little hand into your fat little pocket, I'll have a big fuck off burger and fries, and your fries as well. Got it, my stumpy little comrade?'
'Whatever you say, Sean. You am de boss man.'
'Fuck off, Diffy.'
'I said, fuck off…..Ok?'
They strode along in silence for a while, Sean brooding over the severe beating he had been administered the previous evening and Diffy wondering which sauce to have with his fries.
'You didn't half get the shit kicked out of you last night, Sean. It was fuckin hilarious.'
Sean slapped Diffy round the back of the head. Diffy shrieked and staggered forward.
'Come back here, you short arsed little wanker, I'm just finding the shape of your head.'
Diffy turned and feigned a couple of haymakers in Sean's direction, then tripped over a raised paving slab and fell onto his big, fat arse.
'Fuckin hell, Diffy. Are you sure you haven't got special needs or something? It's like being in charge of a fuckin two year old. Get off your arse and get your money out, we're here.'
Sean took a huge bite out of his burger, masticated twice and swallowed hard. He took a liver crippling draught of chocolate milkshake: turning blue in the process as he attempted to suck half inch lumps of frozen mush up a quarter inch straw, and knocked Diffy's meal off the table and onto the floor.
'Bastard! What did you do that for?' Diffy bent to pick up the spilt fries, deliberately upsetting Sean's milkshake in the process.
'You two foot fuckin freak! I've killed men for less. Anyway, shit for brains, was I pissed last night?'
As fuckin arseholes. I laughed my bollocks off. You were staggering round in circles swinging away like a fuckin girl. You stood not one chance in Hades. A lamp to the slaughter.'
'It was a joke.'
'Very fuckin nearly.'
Sean grinned through cracked and swollen lips. 'I love nights like that, me. A fuckin raft of ale, one of Abdul's canine kebabs and a fuckin good leathering.'
'You got the leathering last night, Sean. I would have helped, but I was too busy pissing my sides. You fight like a mong, you do.'
When we get out of here I'm going to rip your foreshortened little arm off and knock the fuck out of you with the sticky end. I couldn't fight because I'd just drunk my way through a boatload of ale. You can't fight because you're a cunt.'
'I'm a ffshtt ffishffter, me.'
'What? For fuck's sake.'
Diffy swallowed the handful of fries he had just rescued from the grimy floor. 'I said I'm a shit fighter, me. I just keep me head down and let you idiots do the business.'
'Wouldn't take much for you to keep your head down. You're only two fuckin feet tall, you fuckin pygmy.'
'Fuck off, Sean. I hate you keep taking the piss out of me.'
They left the table and headed for the door.
'Sorry, Diffy. I never even give it a thought, what with you being a P.O.R.G. and all.'
'That's OK, Sean. And you're a twat.'
'Fuck off, Diffy.
'Fuck off, Diffy.'
'You're fuckin strange, you are.'
'I know, Sean.'
The sun sat high in the sky: a huge, stoned golden football, smiling down on all the happy shoppers like a big, fat grinning clown. Sean dumped his arse onto one of the less vandalised town centre benches, turned his face to catch some rays and lit a cigarette with a tarnished old zippo lighter.
'What you got planned for today, twatty.'
'World domination, Sean. Thought I might start with a McDiddlys takeover, then buy Boots so me and you can get our stuff without having to go to Dr Herr Jeckyl.'
'Smart move, oh tiny one. I'm with you on that one. Not as thick as you're cabbage looking, are you?'
'What does that mean, Sean? I always wondered.'
'Beats the shit out of me. Hey look. Here comes that dipshit, Bretherton. Hey! Brethy! You twat!'
Michael Bretherton had spotted Harrison and the P.O.R.G., Diffy, sitting there like a couple of toby jugs on the bench outside Subway. He crossed to the other side of the street, trying to make himself invisible amongst the Saturday shoppers.
Sean was trouble and Michael didn't like trouble. He could talk the talk, but had endless trouble walking the walk. His hoodie hung menacingly from narrow shoulders and his tattered jeans hung precariously from even narrower hips. Michael dressed like a ghetto bro' but the fact that his dad was the local vicar did fuck all for his street cred.
'Brother Bretherton, pray sit with us a while and preach the preach.'
'Alright, Sean, Diffy.'
Diffy nodded almost imperceptively. He didn't like Brethy. Come to that, he didn't like anyone talking to Sean. As long as there was a chance of his getting into Sean's pants, he wanted the lad to himself.
'Sean grinned through swollen lips. 'How's life in the pulpit Brother Brethy?'
'Pack it in, Sean. Christ, I wish my dad had chosen another career. He could have been a brickie or a joiner, but a vicar, for God's sake.'
'Fuck me, Mick. If your old man could hear you using the big feller's name in vain he would have you in the confessional in a crack, doing the old, "Hail Mary, full of shit, thing."'
'I don't give a toss, me.'
'Whoo! Tough talk, my evangelical friend.'
'You're full of shit, Sean. My dad isn't an evangelist, he is a Church of England vicar, and we don't have a confessional, we have coffee mornings.'
'I love you, Brethy, you're such a twat.'
'Thanks, Sean, I appreciate your compliments.'
'No problemo. Hey! What you up to? Me and the dwarf here are just going to do a Boots takeover so we can get free mins.'
'Amphetamines, you knob.'
'So, you in?'
'No can do. I'm going down the market for my m….'
'He's going down the market for his mummy. Did you hear that, Diffy? Father Bretherton is going to get the wafers in for Sunday communion.
Diffy forced a smile, but was getting increasingly irritated by Michaels presence. He wanted him to fuck off and leave them alone.
'Go on then, Brethy, go run your little errand. Me and Two Foot Tex here are just fine and fuckin dandy on our own. Aren't we Mighty Midget?'
Diffy positively glowed. 'We sure are, Sean. Fuck off, Brethy, and don't hurry back, y'all.'
Michael fucked off post haste. What a relief. It was like having a bad smell under your nose, then noticing that it wasn't there anymore. What a couple of wasters. He was well rid. His jeans suddenly slipped over his hips, and he just managed to grab them before they ended up round his ankles. Good job Sean didn't see that
'Did you fuckin see that, Diffy? It was hilarious. I nearly shat myself, honest I did.'
'See what, Sean?'
'Have you got your eyes shut, you tiny tool?'
'Don't know what you're talking about, Sean. See what?'
'Too late, the moment has passed.'
'What do you fancy doing now, Sean?'
'What time is it, Diffy?'
'Just after 12.'
Our illustrious pair repaired to the local hostelry and ordered a couple of pints of the finest.
'Not a fuckin chance, Sean. You already owe me about 20 squids. Cash or fuck off. There's the deal.'
Sean dug deep and produced a crumple five pound note.
'You twat!' shouted Diffy, belligerently. 'You never said you had any money when I was buying the burgers.'
'You never asked, did you, Shorty. Anyway, you numb wank, a pint cost more than a burger and fries, so you got the best of the deal. Fuck me, Diffy, you can be thick sometimes. I don't know how you get through life. Two foot tall and brainless. You should be in a home for the terminally useless.'
'How's your ale, Sean?'
'Tastes like piss.'
'No change there, then.'
The pub was typical lower class England: peeling wallpaper, fag ends all over the floor, nicotine all over the ceiling………and dogs: loads of fucking dogs. Dogs of every description lay, shat, pissed and humped in the snug, the lounge and the parlour. Dirty fuckers.
Sean turned his back to the bar and surveyed the mayhem.
'It's a fuckin dog brothel, this place. Hey! Tony!'
The bartender broke away from picking his nose.
'It's a fuckin dog brothel, this place. You want closing down, you do.'
'I thought I'd barred you, Sean. One more word and I'll fuckin chuck you out myself.'
Diffy dug Sean in the ribs. 'Psst!'
'Psst? Fuck me, Diffy, you pint sized pillock, what's, "Psst", all about?'
'Tanner the Homo's over there, Sean. Look, over there by the pool table.'
'Tell you what, you twat. Let's not try to make ourselves too conspicuous shall we? Let's not point at people, Shall we? Not unless we want to land back in fuckin casualty.
'You know what they say about Tanner, don't you?'
'That he's got an enormous knob? Yes, actually I heard.'
'It's true, Sean. They reckon he won't go for a piss unless he's got a semi on.'
'Bloody hell, I just landed in Diffy's world, and it's full of idiots.'
'No, Diffy, darlin. Some fucker told you that to wind you up because every body knows you're a gullible git.'
'Honest, Sean.' Diffy was getting all excited. Sean glanced down to see if he had actually pissed himself. 'They reckon he gets a semi on, then flops it out in the bogs, hoping to get a handjob, or something.'
'The bind moggles.'
'True, Sean, sixteen fuckin inches.'
'That's all bollocks. If he had a sixteen inch knob the weight would make it impossible for him to stand upright. He'd have to push the fucker round in a wheelbarrow. Anyway, twatty, what does he do, think about Gina Lollobrigida for a bit before he goes for a slash?
'What he does, he brings in a copy of Playboy, and has a crafty look at it before he goes for a piss.'
'You are special needs, aren't you?'
'Why do you have to take the piss out of everything I say?'
'Cos you're a twat. I'm hungry, what about you?'
'We could get a pie in here.'
'We could get botulism in here. Come on, let's go to Greggs for a pastie.'
Greggs the Bakers was at the far end of the High Street. They had to pass at least four serviceable pie emporiums on the way, but Sean had an ulterior motive.
Carol Eckersley worked in Greggs, and she had the most humongous pair of tits this side of the Pennines. He had been within an ace of boinking her on more than one occasion. She had always rebuffed him at the eleventh hour, but being a red blooded male of no fixed abode he didn't know the meaning of the phrase, "Fuck off you tosser".
The shop was empty, it being after closing time.
Sean banged on the window to attract Carol's attention.
'We're closed.' Carol was petite and blond: petite, that is, but for the twin Zeppelins that strained at her uniform top.
'Not to me, you're not, darlin.'
'Fuck off, Sean. Is that Diffy with you?'
'Aw, he's cute.'
She came round the counter and unlocked the door. Diffy beamed: Sean didn't.
'He's a fuckin dwarf, Carol: two foot six of pure bullshit. Aren't you, twatty.'
'Four foot six, actually.'
'Two pasties, Carol, my darlin, one for me and one for the human beanpole here.'
Don't be rotten, Sean. He's lovely.'
'Have you seen his fuckin dad, Carol? He's about six feet eleventeen, and his mum can fit in the palm of his hand.'
'I think I saw them on "You Tube" once.'
'Ha! Nice one, Carol. Did you hear that, Diffy? Carol made a funny about your weird and fuckin wonderful parents. Here's your pastie, now fuck off!'
'Which part of "fuck off" don't you understand, Diffy? Go now, laddie. I'm on a promise.'
Diffy looked crestfallen. He put the pastie back in its bag, turned and walked slowly out of the door.
Sean waited a few seconds, then poked his head out of the shop doorway.
'Oy! Twat.' He shouted.
Sean held his hand to his head in the recognisable phone gesture. 'Give us a bell tomorrow. We'll do something.'
A huge grin spread across Diffy's face. 'Sure, Sean. See you tomorrow.'
He turned his back and walked on. A moment later, he turned again.
'Sean' He shouted.
'You're a twat.'