PenWomanShip

The old bloke's all right, isn't he? It was his fault for trying to hassle us on the beach, we weren't doing no harm. He had it coming. What do you mean he had what coming? You don't get me that easy. No way.

Do we go to the beach a lot? Sure we do, it's a laugh. Better than being up town. You bastards are everywhere up there, aren't you? The fuzz, the pigs, the boys in blue. Anyone would think you were following us. Can't go from one street to the next without you lot interfering. What is it with you? Don't you have killers to catch?

Anyway, the beach at night is a million times better than in the day, with all those bloody tourists. Can't stand them. Why don't they just mess up somewhere else for a change? Not that the girls aren't great. They're always up for it. Especially if they're weekenders. They want a good time and they want it now. Yeah, okay, if you want to know about the night in question, there ain't no harm in telling you. There weren't no girl. Too cold even for them. Just me and me mates at the pier. You could smell the sea and hear the rumble of cars from the town. We had a case-load of beer and were drinking them where nobody could see. I get enough flak at home; Johnny, don't do this. Johnny, don't do that. It's enough to make you want to do someone in.

Anyway, we were half-way through the beers when Billy finishes one off and chucks the bottle out to sea. He misses and it smashes against the pier. Next thing we know, there's all this cursing. Jesus, we nearly choked ourselves laughing. And then this old posh git pops up from nowhere holding his face and moaning like he's got toothache. We could see him in the light of the full moon, like a ghost. God knows what he was doing out there at
that time of night. Though you get a lot of weirdos around the beach. You people ought to do something about it.

And this old bloke marches right up to us like he weren't afraid or nothing. He should have known nobody messes with our gang. But he comes marching right up and we're still laughing. He's got a torch and he shines it on us so we shut up. Now, it's so quiet that the only sound you can hear is the sea breaking onto the pebbles. I couldn't even hear the cars no more.

Billy's the first to speak and I can smell the beer on his breath. He shades his eyes and says, 'Turn the bloody light off, you stupid bastard.'
But he don't. Instead he says, 'What do you think you're doing? It's dangerous to throw things. You hit me, you know.'

And, taking his hand away from his cheek, he shone the light onto his own face so we could see the blood. And it's funny because he's so bloody posh.
So we laughed again. It was great, this old git huffing and puffing in the light from his torch and surrounded with darkness, except you could just see the movement of the waves where the moonlight caught them. And he took a step toward us and Billy stood up, clutching another bottle. Now we know better than to mess with Billy when he's got a rage on. Sure, he's a mate, but he can be a nasty bugger. I don't mean nothing by that. It weren't his fault. Nor mine neither.

But the posh git stands his ground, like he weren't out there on his own and says, 'I don't know why you're laughing. You should never leave rubbish behind on a beach. It ruins the environment.'

'En-vir-on-ment,' Billy dances towards the bloke as he's speaking, making him sound like a right ponce.

'Yes, that's right.'

'What's it got to do with you then?'

'A great deal, I believe. You hit me, remember? You should be more careful.'

'Oh yeah?' Billy says. 'I don't think so. It was your fault, you got in the way.'

He should have backed off then, the old bugger. Know what I mean? I was even hoping he'd do it, though Billy's a mate and I'm on his side. But the old bloke, he must have been crazy. Because he walks up to Billy, pokes a finger at his chest and says, 'Never do that again. It's wasteful and dangerous.' Billy's head jerks up and he gives the bloke a push back, 'Right, that's it. You want to keep the sea sweet? Well, why don't you take a closer look at it?' With that, he grabs the man by the arms and shoves him backwards towards the water.

'Come on, let's show the bastard.' And then he glances back as the bloke begins to thrash about. We don't have to be told twice. I mean anyone would do the same. For a mate.

So up we get and help Billy hold him down. I didn't know what he was going to do, but I was game for a laugh. Like all of us. The posh bugger fought us, even though it was no contest, no way. We could hear the waves breaking on the sand, as loud as if it was in your head. At the edge of the water, he falls on his knees, still shouting. Billy punches him in the mouth to shut him up and there's more blood and the sound of breaking teeth. If he'd stopped yelling then, things would have been fine. But he didn't. And it was the noise we couldn't stand. I don't think Billy could stand it neither. Because he pushed the old man out into the sea under the pier, yelling for us to go with him. The salt water was soaking our jeans, and Billy pushed the bloke's face into the sea.

'There. That'll show the bastard.'

With a twist of his hand, he pulls the man out by his hair and he comes up, spluttering and gasping.

'So what's the sea like then?' Billy says. 'You want a second look?'

And down he went again, Billy holding his head under the waves, and the rest of us hanging on to his body and arms. It was just like being back at school. It was a laugh, but we didn't mean no harm. It was just a bit of fun.

The next few times, he was under the water for longer and each time Billy let him up again, he was fighting for breath and shaking. It was so cool.

Posh blokes like him always make us do what they want, so it was good being on the winning side for once.

The last time he came up from the water, he'd stopped struggling, but he weren't dead. Billy said so. He checked and he said the bastard was breathing. And I believe him, he wouldn't lie to us, not when we're mates.

So he was fine when we left him. I know because Billy kicked him a couple of times when he was lying in the shallows and I heard him groan. I swear it.

It was boring when he weren't fighting back. So we all gave him a kick for Billy's sake and buggered off. To find something better to do. Know what I mean? And it was fine, wasn't it? We were just having a laugh. You can see
how it weren't our fault. It's obvious.

Anyway, he's okay, the old git, isn't he?

So I can go now.

Can't I?