Wellies

Wore my splendid new wellies today for the rain, and was menaced for it. I was minding my own business alone at the bus stop when two youths and their molls came past. They were far too high-spirited and loud for 11 am, but I couldn't smell booze off them. From their voices I knew they were off their faces either on glue or opiates, both of which affect vocal intonation and pronunciation, producing a gouched-out drawl. No smell of glue, so by elimination it was the green syrup (methadone) or some such. The decent junkies of my acquaintance have been too pleasant and medicated to bother people, but these were ASBO radges.

I kept myself to myself until they started on about my 'crocodile' boots, slagging them off loudly as 'ultra-cool', 'safe' and 'well casual', and not in either a nice or a simply foolish way. One of the blokes took a photo of me and the boots with his mobile which got me irritated, so I swapped from ignoring them to staring them out silently with a vague half-smile. There was no fear in me, although there probably should've been, because I felt a calm cold anger rising up, which I suspect showed in the smile I wore. It was designed to let them know I was at least as radge as them. They lost interest in me and started arguing amongst themselves about exactly how they were going to blag their way on the bus without the full fares, on their way to Wester Hailes to pick up a prescription...

There was something of the beast and the herd about them, though that may be unfair to animals. Brutalised, brutal and unable to think for themselves. I could've felt sorry for them in other circumstances, but to menace a sole female (however lame you think she is) requires a special badness and not just a lack of opportunity and brain cells. Incidentally, they looked crap in their shell suits, greasy hair and spots, and when they're my age (if still alive) they'll look like the living dead.