Christ but there’s too many flags about, he said, sittin back down and slidin three pints across the table. Too much wavin from balconies, fly-pasts and old codgers grumblin bout the way they suffered. Christ, I mean. He sniffed.
Look at you man, the guy’s friend said, sweepin his fringe from his eyes. I mean your jeans, that shirt. Out of touch.
Oh don’t start.
I’m not startin. It’s just, you know, you’re old. Everyone’s lovin all that these days. Nostalgia. Fashion.
Yeah, why not? You’re suppin ale, everyone’s eatin cupcakes.
Tory fuckin cupcakes?
They both laughed.