“How much?!”
“Fuck you!”
“You spent two hundred pounds on a pair of fucking shoes?!”
“And how much do you spend on Sky fucking Sports, watching golf…FUCKING GOLF! XXX …’til three o’clock in the morning? See you then. Sally’s tiny head replaced the ball on the tee jammed between the tiles on the kitchen floor. Maybe another time. Ignorant bitch, he thought. He wasn’t sure why and he suddenly remembered his beer in the fridge. “How much?!”
“Fuck you!”
“You spent two hundred pounds on a pair of fucking shoes?!”
“And how much do you spend on Sky fucking Sports, watching golf…FUCKING GOLF! …’til three o’clock in the morning? “The opportunity for you to help friends out comes along and you spit in their faces.”
“They are no friends of mine.
