England Away
Page 32
Smart Bomb was a great game and Harry was running up a decent score, watching his missiles hit home, the Gulf Boy mixing his thoughts as he remembered that story from the First World War, when the two sides called a truce for Christmas Day and the English and Germans left their trenches and stood in no-man’s land together, had a drink and a game of football. It was a famous story, because after that the two sides stopped shooting at each other. The soldiers had to be replaced and the next year there was no fraternising with the enemy. Harry pumped the button and destroyed a gunship, amazed that the officers were that stupid, because if you saw the face of your enemy and knew him as a person, you weren’t going to try and kill him. They were more sussed today, making things easy with smart rockets, conquering the world with consumer goods, and Harry understood this because he could see exactly where Nicky fitted in.
He would go and see her in Amsterdam. He smiled as he pictured Nicky opening the door of her flat and throwing her thin arms around his neck. His knob was aching, but he could trust her. Everyone wanted to return home a hero, Harry aiming at a cartoon tank and shattering its armour, knowing it was just a game – it had to be – the bright red blood of the tank crew seeping through crinkled silver metal.
There’s blood on my feet and I’m back with the main mob of English. We’re running the old bill. Chasing twenty of the cunts through their own streets. The fighting seems like it’s been going on for ever, and there’s not so many of us now. We have to watch ourselves because we’re on foreign soil, surrounded by people who hate us, but we’re doing England proud. Putting on a show the locals won’t forget. We’re here in Berlin, rioting in the centre of Europe. Maintaining a reputation we’ve built up through the centuries. Kicking the shit out of anyone who takes the piss. Slowing down now and letting the old bill escape.
We stop at a crossroads and try to work out where we are. Harris has a look at his map, and points the way to the ground. There’s some Germans further down the street. As we get nearer they move forward and we pile in, punching and kicking the ones at the front. My fist connects with some bloke’s chin and my knuckles jolt. I feel it right along my arm. They don’t really fancy it and do a runner. We slow down again, covering the road and walking tall. Going from street to street doing whatever we want, flushing out resistance. Battering the fuck out of anyone who wants to have a go. We’re proud to be English and proud of our culture. We’re doing the stroppy cunts once and for all.
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Epub ISBN: 9781448128426
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Published by Vintage 1999
10
Copyright © John King 1998
The right of John King to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988
First published in Great Britain in 1998 by Jonathan Cape
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ISBN 9780099739616