The Football Factory

by John King

  —Black John was getting a hiding last I saw of him. Harris is leaning back over the seat in front. I tried to get to him but there were too many West Ham.

  —The old bill were helping him up. Dusting him off making sure he was still alive. Mark scratches his bollocks. Hope that bird I shagged last night was clean. Last thing I need is a dose. Specially off some juvenile delinquent.

  I reckon Black John’s going to be visiting a doctor before Mark. He got a heavy duty kicking and I hope he wasn’t tooled-up like normal. Coppers don’t like knife-carrying black boys and any sympathy they might feel calling an ambulance would disappear once they got him for carrying an offensive weapon. But there’s no finding out now. Not tonight. We’ve just got to fade away and old Rod’s going to be a bit pissed off losing us in the chaos. But John’s a cunt and a wicked bastard. Wouldn’t want to cross the man but you can’t feel too sorry for him because he’s done enough bad things in his time. Couldn’t cut a bloke myself, but I wouldn’t knock him on that score. Just as long as we’re on the same side.

  —John’ll be alright. Harris is laughing. It’ll take more than West Ham to put him out of action for long. It’ll just make him meaner next tune around.

  —Like a short sharp shock to the system, Mark backing him up. Give someone a dose like that and they’re twice as bad in the future.

  I lean against the window and watch the plush rows of houses pass. There’s money in these streets, home to gun-runners and oil merchants. Millionaire flats full of Stock Exchange cunts with acne-free upper-crust birds choking on the property developer’s plum shoved halfway down their throats. But we’re just passing through. We’re content getting away from our battleground in Victoria. Fighting among ourselves. East against West. But West Ham’s over for us now and when we get up to Oxford Street we decide to go for a few sherbets.

  The centre’s lit up for tourists and everywhere you look there’s Arabs selling plastic police helmets and models of Parliament. It’s all bright lights and fast food hamburger meat. An amusement arcade full of dagos. It’s a black hole in the middle of London. We walk along the street and turn into Soho. Another fucking abortion with its fake reputation for sleaze, but it always pulls in northerners down for the football because they haven’t got a clue where they’re going. They see this area and no wonder they think London’s full of queers and posers, rich slumming bastards and fashion queens. It’s a magnet for scum. We go to a couple of pubs but they’re dead so we move down towards Covent Garden, find a pub. There’s eight of us in all and Harris says Derby played in London today, away to Millwall. Maybe we’ll pick up on a few of the bastards.

  —Where did you get that tan from darling? Mark’s into a small bird with dyed hair and a skin colour which means she’s been abroad flat on her back shagging dagos or spics for a two-week break from the routine of shagging white men in London.

  —What’s it got to do with you?

  She’s a stroppy bird that’s for sure and we’re all laughing because Mark’s gone red in the face. Obviously embarrassed and not pissed enough to take it in his stride. He’s made a bad move here, that’s for sure, and I can only see it getting worse.

  —Who do you think you’re calling darling anyway? Her mate’s telling her to be nice, that Mark’s only being friendly, but Mark snaps back.

  —Fucking dyke.

  —Macho wanker.

  —Don’t call me a wanker.

  —Then don’t call me a fucking dyke.

  —I was only being friendly. Like your mate said.

  —Well go be friendly with someone else.

  —What’s the matter with you anyway?

  —I don’t like being called darling for a start. And I’m talking with my friend and don’t need you butting in.

  We’re cracking up laughing and tell Mark to leave it out. Fair play if the girl’s not interested and, anyway, we’re on the lookout for a few Derby fans, or even West Ham strays if we get lucky. There’s a long way to go till closing time. What’s he going to do in the meantime? Spend the whole night chatting up a couple of dodgy birds. Mind you, the dyke’s mate seems game enough. Same suntan so must have been on the same holiday. But Mark should sort himself out. There’s a time for shagging and a time for fighting. He should think twice about mixing the two. He’ll just end up getting himself confused.

  NEVER NEVER LAND

  Dad is holding Mum’s hand and I run ahead of them along the beach and Sarah is trying to keep up, yelling in my ear, and I’m a year older and a bit stronger and I don’t want her to start crying so I slow down and let her catch me, but don’t let her know what I’m doing because that would spoil the race for her. We get to the water together and stand there out of breath and we’re holding hands like Mum and Dad. I look back to where they are and they’re laughing about something and Mum’s waving to us and Dad’s kicking sand up which blows back because of the wind and then Mum’s turning away so it doesn’t get in her eyes, and then she’s got her hand through his arm and they’re getting nearer.

  —Put your foot in the water, Sarah says.

  —I don’t want to, I’ll get my trainers wet, I answer.

  —You’re just scared.

  —I’m not scared of anything.

  —Yes you are. You’re scared Dad’ll tell you off and Mum’ll smack you.

  —Dad wouldn’t tell me off. He doesn’t care if my trainers get wet because we’re at the seaside and it doesn’t matter at the seaside, nothing matters at the seaside.

  —Mum would smack you though.

  —Maybe.

  I run on a bit further and Sarah follows and then we stop and look over the mud to where a big black dog is running out towards these wooden boats that are sitting on the mud. He runs very fast towards a load of seagulls floating on top of the water and when he gets near they all fly away and they’re skimming across the water and this dog is doing his best to catch them and then they’re up in the air like magic and I wish I could fly as well. I’m a bit worried in case the dog gets the birds and tries to eat them but they aren’t stupid and just let him get near enough before they take off. I watch them go up in the air and the dog does a big circle with the water over his paws and then he’s coming back to the sand and at first I think he’s coming for me and Sarah and I’m moving in front of my sister because boys have to walk on the outside of girls to protect them from traffic so they don’t get knocked down and hurt by cars and lorries and I’m stronger than my sister and other little girls and must never hit them because it’s a bad thing to do, but then I see a man in a black jacket with a metal dog lead calling him and the dog changes direction and speeds up a bit and when I look back to where the seagulls were they’ve come back again and now they’re sitting in the same place.

  —You both won the race together, says Dad, and he lifts me up in the air above his head because my dad’s big and strong and the strongest man in the world apart from boxers and people like that, though maybe he’s even as strong as them, I don’t know.

  —You’re both winners, he says, putting me down and lifting Sarah up in the air and she’s laughing but looks a bit scared at the same time, not sure what she’s supposed to do next.

  —Mind you don’t drop her, Mum says, and she looks worried as well.

  But Dad’s like Superman with his muscles though Superman doesn’t have a West Ham tattoo on his arm and Dad doesn’t wear a suit and cape. He says he can fly like Superman high in the sky and visits planets in outer space when we’re asleep but I don’t believe him, I think he’s joking, and if I could fly like a bird I could fly with Dad as well but birds can’t go to the moon and planets and I wouldn’t want to go too far away because there’s no air in space and I would choke and maybe we’d meet aliens and spacemen who would use us for experiments, like people do with rabbits and dogs and other kinds of animals. Anyway, if he could fly then he would have carried us all down to Southend on his back instead of in the car and we would have got here much quicker and Sarah
probably wouldn’t have been sick all over the back seat, but she might have fallen off or something and then Dad would have had to move fast and catch her again before she hit the ground and broke into small pieces.

  —Is anyone hungry? Mum asks, and Sarah says she’s starving but I’m thinking of her puking in the back of the car and shake my head no.

  —Not even for chips? Mum asks, and I nod my head up and down because chips are my favourite food.

  —Come on then, Dad says, and we walk over the sand to the pavement and climb up and go along the front to where there’s a cafe. We sit by the window and we can watch the boats coming in and Dad says they’re heading into London along the Thames and that they used to go all the way to the docks in the East End, but that was a long time ago now before his time and times change and people move on and there was a big war or something and later on there was unions which the rich people didn’t like and then the rich people built big luxury buildings and the poor people got nothing.

  —What would you like? asks a girl who Dad tells me is a waitress, and I have fish fingers and chips and peas and a glass of Coke.

  Sarah has the same. So do Mum and Dad, and Dad asks for some bread and butter as well, and then all of us ask for some bread and butter, and it’s warmer in the cafe than outside and Dad says we timed it right because there’s more people coming in now and we wouldn’t have been able to sit by the window if we hadn’t hurried here and then we wouldn’t have had such a good view of the water. I like watching the ships move slowly along and wonder how big the bottoms of them are because the smaller boats on the mud have big bottoms to them, to make them stand up in the water Dad says, and the small boats are painted in lots of different bright colours but the bigger boats carrying stuff for shops and factories are grey and black.

  Sarah kicks my legs under the table and I kick her back and she makes a noise like it hurt and Dad tells us both to behave. He winks at us and when the food arrives he says he’s starving hungry and asks the waitress if we can have some more ketchup because the bottle’s almost empty and she nods and goes back to the counter and then she comes back and puts a new bottle on the table. Dad says he’ll put the ketchup on our food but I want to do it myself because I’m a big boy now, seven years old, and he lets me but it comes out too fast and there’s a load of ketchup on my chips but I don’t mind because I love ketchup and Mum and Dad raise their eyes into their heads in the way which makes me look away because it looks like their eyes are going to disappear into the back somewhere and then they’d have to go to hospital for some help. Sarah has to have a go with the ketchup as well but Dad helps her a bit because she’s smaller than me.

  —There’s a train we can go on later, Dad says. It runs right out into the water, to the end of the pier.

  I start asking questions because I love trains and sometimes Dad takes me to Liverpool Street and we go and look at the trains coming in, but best of all I like Thomas The Tank Engine, though not as much as I used to because I’m getting too old for Thomas, he’s for smaller children really, and I think Sarah likes trains as well now, and I’m looking forward to going on the train over the water, but I like the fish fingers and chips and will think about trains in a minute.

  —I’ll be a train driver one day, I say. If not I’m going to be a policeman or a doctor.

  Dad coughs and says a doctor would be best, but being a policeman is tough work, and he laughs and says a train driver would be best of all, but not a policeman, anything but a copper, and laughs some more, but Mum frowns at him and says that the police are good, that they protect us from bad people, and if there were no police we would soon miss them. I scrape ketchup off my chips and cut bits of fish finger and put it in my mouth and chew with my mouth shut when Mum tells me, and when I’ve swallowed a mouthful I have a drink of Coke and it has ice in it which makes it hard to drink, and I have to wipe my nose on a piece of toilet paper Mum gives me. I keep looking out over the water at the boats coming in and wonder what it would be like being a sailor living on a boat and I think I would be scared because if the boat sank I’d get eaten by sharks or at least have one of my legs bitten off and I can’t swim properly yet though Dad has started taking me on Sunday morning.

  —Don’t play with your food, Mum tells Sarah, and she’s full up and has only eaten half her dinner, and I’m almost done and so are Mum and Dad.

  We walk along the front and I’m thinking that I’d like to be a policeman and help people, I suppose Superman’s a sort of policeman, then suddenly I see a pirate ship next to the pier and I try to run towards it but Dad’s got my hand because of the cars along the road and he holds me back and I’ve forgotten that, and I want to go see the pirates and he says okay, but first we’re going on the train because it might start raining soon and it could get more windy, so best to get the train ride done first because it goes out over the water and we don’t want the kids getting a cold or sore throats.

  I’m sitting on the train which doesn’t look much like Thomas because Dad says it’s a big children’s train and I wonder what the driver calls it, and Sarah keeps looking back at the pirate ship, but once the train starts moving it’s more exciting and I’m looking down at the water and I don’t like it much because what if something breaks and we fall in and Mum and Dad and Sarah and me get eaten by sharks or crocodiles or submarines or something even worse. I don’t say anything because I shouldn’t be scared and have to be a brave man and boys don’t cry either, though I did at school last week when that kid hit me with a lump of wood because of some black man who got beat up by white men but that wasn’t my fault and I told him that but he just laughed and ran off and the teacher asked what happened but I shut up and didn’t tell because telling is the worst thing you can do.

  There’s a man driving the train and he has a whistle and blows it every now and then and I like that and I feel safe because the driver’s in charge and knows what he’s doing, that’s what Dad tells me when he puts his arm around my shoulder, and I like the ride now, so does Sarah, and then we’re at the end and have a look around and see the ships coming in a bit closer and Mum says that one’s from Russia and another one’s from Africa. There’s wolves in Russia she says, and bears, and there’s all kinds of animals in Africa like lions and elephants and giraffes and other things I don’t know about, but some people are bad and kill elephants for their tusks and Sarah starts crying and Dad says it’s okay it doesn’t happen much now and he buys us both crisps from an old man with a box of different stuff.

  We get the train back and I can see the pirate ship ahead and wonder when the pirate ships come down the river into London, though Dad says there aren’t pirates any more, only in the sea around Vietnam and places like that and they’ve got new boats now and it’s not like the old days. We get off the train and hurry to the pirate ship because it’s starting to rain a bit more and Dad pays the woman some money and then we’re walking onto the ship that’s made of wood and has a mast and bits of rope and loads of other stuff and some big guns on wheels which Dad says aren’t real, but then he says they are but not dangerous so don’t worry, and I’m glad they’re not toys and they don’t look like toys either.

  There’s writing when we get inside and Dad tells us that the pirates wore baggy trousers and they were covered with tar to protect them against the cold and their buttons were sometimes made from the backbone of a shark or pieces of cheese that had gone hard. He says that the pirates often ate their food in the dark because the food was horrible and they drunk lots of rum and suffered from a lot of illnesses like things called scurvy, typhus, typhoid, dysentery, malaria, yellow fever and another kind of disease to do with men and women. Pirates liked gold and silver and even though they’d been around for a long time before, it’s for what they did in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries that they are best known. They were mostly Dutch and English and French and at first they robbed Spanish galleons coming back from America which was called the New World at that time and took t
heir treasure.

  Dad says the pirates lived mostly in a place called Tortuga near Haiti and in the Bahamas and in 1663 there were about fifteen ships and a thousand men who lived around Tortuga and Jamaica and though they started off working for the kings and queens of their countries after a while they just attacked anyone and became their own bosses and then the kings and queens didn’t like them any more because it was alright when they were robbing and killing for their countries but they weren’t liked much when they did it for themselves. Francis Drake was a pirate and that’s why the Spanish sent their boats in the Armada to stop his attacks on their boats and he was sent by the first Queen Elizabeth.

  Pirates were called buccaneers and corsairs and filibusters and freebooters and gentlemen of fortune and privateers and sea wolves and Henry Morgan was one of the best and everyone was scared of him. Dad says that all the sailors on a Spanish ship killed themselves rather than get caught by Henry Morgan. He was captured and went on trial in England but Charles I made him a knight instead of killing him and then he was made Governor of Jamaica. Woodes Rogers was another pirate and he later became Governor of the Bahamas and there was Edward Teach who was also called Blackbeard and he was a giant who swore a lot and had a long beard that had ribbons twisted in it and this looked like dreadlocks and Dad says he liked to put gunpowder in his rum. Calico Jack had two women in his crew, Anne Bonny who was from County Cork in Ireland and was his girlfriend, and Mary Read who had been a soldier. Dad says one of the fiercest pirates was a Welsh man called Bartholomew Roberts who often killed people and he had a dandy look and wore a red feather in his hat.

  We walk through the boat looking at guns and pictures of big ships with sails and drawings of pirates drinking and fighting. Sarah says she doesn’t like it much and it’s boring but I wouldn’t mind dressing up like a pirate and having sword fights but I don’t think I would want to kill anyone or make them walk the plank and get eaten by sharks because I wouldn’t want that to happen to me. Dad says there was Captain Kidd who was Scottish and there was a flag called the Jolly Roger which he points to on the wall and it’s a skull and crossbones and not very nice and when the pirates put it at the top of their mast it gave the ship they were after the chance to surrender but if the ship didn’t give up then a crimson flag was put up instead and it meant everyone would be killed with no quarter given.