Millsy Picture the scene: The other fuckinā week there, down the fuckinā Volley with Tommy, playing pool. Iām playing like Paul-Fuckinā-Newman by the way. Givinā the boy here the tanninā of a lifetime. So it comes to the, down to the last shot, the deciding ball of the whole tournament. Iām on the black and heās sittinā in the corner looking all fuckinā biscuit-arsed. When this hard cunt comes in. Obviously fuckinā fancies himself, like. Starts staring at me. Lookinā at me, right fuckinā at me, as if to say, āCome ahead, square go.ā You ken me, Iām not the type of cunt that goes looking for fuckinā bother, like, but at the end of the day Iām the cunt with a pool cue and he can get the fat end in his puss any time he fucking wanted like. So I squares up, casual like. What does the hard cunt do? Or the so-called hard cunt? Shites it. Puts down his drink, turns, and gets the fuck out of there. And after that, well, the game was mine.
