A Decent Ride Read Online Free PDF

fat, thin, posh, destitute; everywhere thaire’s fuckin Gary Busey, you’ll see me purrin up kerbside in this fast black, ready tae run it right up thair fuckin erses!
    These Yankee burds didnae half doodle-dandy, did they no, the other night! That wis a result! Of course, ye eywis go for the lassies oan hoaliday, thaire’s nowt like gittin away fae it aw tae lower a burd’s inhibitions. Now ah’ve goat another Septic oan the mobby, that fucker Ronnie fae the other day, him wi the heid like one ay they dinosaur radges, the yin that stabs the T-rex in the gut wi ehs horn, before gaun ower the cliff wi the cunt. — I need to get taken to East Lothian within the next few days. A place called Haddington.
    — Piece ay pish, bud. Ken it well.
    — Great, I was thinking about tomorrow but I hear a hurricane is gonna hit the city.
    — Aye, so thir sayin, that Hurricane Bawbag.
    — This is serious shit. Katrina totally pulped New Orleans, and you guys don’t seem prepared for this!
    — Naw, mate, aw ye git here is wind n rain, same old, same old fir us but, ay.
    — I don’t think you’re grasping the magnitude of the situation here, Terry.
    — Dinnae worry, buddy, you jist stey holed up in the Balmoral till it aw blaws ower. Lit room service look eftir ye. N if ye want company, dinnae ask that concierge cunt, thi’ll jist set ye up wi some snooty hoor that’ll take ye tae the cleaners. Ah’ll bring a couple ay game lassies roond whae ken how tae perty, n it’ll cost ye nowt but yir minibar tab n mibbe a couple ay Gs. This burd ah ken, done some scud wi her, she’s the toon super-groupie; she’s banged every sportsman, TV personality, fitba player n stand-up comic that’s set fit in this place. Her nickname’s ‘Venue 69’ cause she’s that busy during the festival. She’d love tae git your notch oan her bedpost. Gen up.
    The Ronnie felly’s voice is fused wi steel. — I thought you didn’t know who I was!
    Fuck, ah blew that yin, but ah stey cool. — Hudnae a Scooby till ah googled ye this morning. I like tae check aw my clients in case thaire’s anything dodgy gaun oan. Nae offence likes. Business takes balls!
    Course ah kent the cunt, right fae the off. A wee silence, then eh goes, — Very enterprising . . . you can’t be too careful. But I have to ask you to be discreet.
    — My middle name, buddy boy. Ye cannae bedroom-hop like the Juice felly and no ken the meaning ay the D-word inside oot! So ye wantin that intro tae the fanny or ur ye no?
    — That won’t be necessary. I’ll call you, he goes, n the cunt hings up.
    Decent fuckin deal but; gittin peyed big bucks by the week but eh’s only gaunny need ays a few times tae run um doon tae Haddington! Wonder what business eh’s goat doon thaire. Well, that’s his, no mine. Meantime ah kin still dae ma ain fuckin thing! Ma ship’s fuckin well come in, awright!
    Ah checks the phone: a load ay messages fae different burds – they couple ay young things fae Rhode Island n aw! They were tidy, n maist ay aw, game as fuck. Although Sick Boy sais chasin it’s the best sport, ye cannae eywis be bothered chippin away at thair defences. Sometimes ye jist want tae slap the fuckin goods oan the table n go: ur ye in or ur ye no? They wir fuckin in awright, wir they no! Shame that they’re off tae the Continent the day.
    Ah’m sniffin aroond for minge oan the Bridges, but nae burds are flaggin me doon, so ah picks up another fare, this stiff-backed cunt in a tin flute, carryin a briefy. Dinnae think thaire’s a tip in this fucker.
    So ah’m thinkin aboot lassies, n two in particular: Suzanne Prince and Yvette Bryson. The two ah fired intae bareback that weekend nearly ten year ago when ah wis oan a downer after the third divorce. As a result ah goat two wee bastards oot ay the deal. But I’m aw for Guillaume n the Ginger Bastard keepin thair mas’ surnames. Feminism, but, ay. Mind you, if it hud been up tae me ah’d huv hud that fuckin tube up baith