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Naw, I heard that Maloney had Glasgow rigged with anthrax bombs before we pulled out. Melt the bastards, then we just swoop in and retake the place later on. The man settled back into his chair, slamming his pint down on the table.
Frank, have I ever told you youre a bloody idiot? Frank glared.
Yeah, well at least I aint an engine scrubbie like you, Dave.
I get better pay than you, Dave countered hotly.
Frank merely grinned nastily. Yeah, well I have working, non-irradiated balls, so I think I come out on top, ey? A third man gave a derisive laugh.
Not that any womans ever gonna let you plant your seed. You might ave well taken the wages, for all the good balls do you.
Paul, you can shut it an all. I got better chances than your ugly mug.
Paul snorted. Im married, you tit. Frank slouched back to sulk over his pint, as a fourth man moved to take a seat at the table, in the knees-bent shuffle familiar to all and any whove tried to seat themselves in a pub alcove.
Alright John? Dave asked. John merely grunted in reply. Ere, Frank was just shooting his mouth off about what Maloney did to Glasgow. Werent you on the Bramall when it happened? John threw Frank a sharp look.
You can get in trouble talking about that, you know? Frank shrugged.
What they gonna do? Tie me up and tear my nipples off? Paul smirked.
I bet youd like that, wouldnt ya Frank? All that intimate attention from another bloke.
Frank turned beetroot red.
Paul, I swear Im gonna knock your bloody block off if you keep this up! He roared.
Yeah mate, quaking in my boots. Anyway, Frankie here reckons Maloney rigged the place with anthrax bombs. John slowly shook his head and took a sip from his pint.