Nov 2011 Telling it Like it is
Read by Steve Wedd
“A hippo,” says Trev, sinking his Stella. “Definitely. Slow moving, innit?”
“Fuck off,” I say, sinking mine. “Have you seen the teeth on it? It’d rip your head off.”
We’re drinking in the Bull’s Head, and trying to decide what animals we could do over in a fight. I thought I was pushing it with the shire horse, but there’s no fucking way I’m having a hippo. Thing is, Trev fancies himself as a hard nut, with his gold chains and his signet rings. But I’d like to see him in a rumble with a fucking hippo. Not a chance, mate. Not a chance.