Trev looked suspicious. 'Glenda told you that?'
'Yes!'
'She was windin' you up. She knew you'd tell me.'
'I don't think she would lie to me, Mister Trev. She is my friend.'
'I kept thinkin' about her all last night,' said Trev.
'Well, she is a wonderful cook,' Nutt agreed.
'I meant Juliet!'
'Um, and Glenda said to tell you that Juliet's other name is Stollop,' said Nutt, hating to be the bearer of worse news.
'What? That girl is a Stollop?'
'Yes. Glenda said I was to see how you liked that, but I know the meaning of irony.'
'But it's like findin' a strawberry in a dogmeat stew, yeah? I mean, the Stollops are buggers, the lot of 'em, biters and cloggers to a man, the kind of bastards who'll kick your family jewels up into your throat.'
'But you don't play football, do you? You just watch.'
'Damn right! But I'm a Face, right? I'm known in all the boroughs. You can ask anyone. Everyone knows Trev Likely. I'm Dave Likely's lad. Every supporter in the city knows about him. Four goals! No one else scored that much in a lifetime! And gave as good as he got, did Dad. One game he picked up the Dolly bastard holding the ball and threw 'im over the line. He gave as good as 'e got, my dad, and then some.'
'So, he was a bugger and a clogger and a biter too, was he?'
'What? Are you pulling my tonker?'
'I would not wish to do so initially, Mister Trev,' said Nutt, so solemnly that Trev had to grin, 'but, you see, if he fought the opposing team with even more force than they used, does that not mean that he - '
'He was my dad,' said Trev. 'That means you don't try any fancy maths, okay?'
'Okay indeed. And you never wanted to follow in his footsteps?'
'What, and get brung home on a stretcher? I got my brains from my ol' mum, not from Dad. He was a good bloke and loved his football, but he wasn't flush with brains to start with an' on that day some of 'em were leakin' out of his ear. The Dollies got 'im in the melee and sorted 'im out good and proper. That's not for me, Gobbo. I'm smart.'
'Yes, Mister Trev, I can see that.'
'Get the gear on and let's go, okay? We don't want to miss anything.'
'Fing,' said Nutt automatically, as he started to wind the huge scarf around his neck.
'What?' said Trev, frowning.
'Wot?' said Nutt, his voice a little muffled. There was a lot of scarf. It was almost covering his mouth.
'Are you pulling my chuff, Gobbo?' said Trev, handing him an ancient sweater, faded and saggy with age.
'Please, Mister Trev, I don't know! There appears to be so much I might inadvertently pull!' He tugged on the big woolly hat with the pink pompom on it. 'They are so very pink, Mister Trev. We must be bursting with machismo!'
'I don't know what you person'ly are bursting with, Gobbo, but here's somethin' to learn. "Come on if you think you're hard enough." Now you say it.'
'Come on if you think you're hard enough,' said Nutt obediently.
'Well, okay,' said Trev, inspecting him. 'Just remember, if anyone starts pushing you around during the game, and givin' you grief, just you say that to 'em and they'll see you're wearing the Dimmer colours and they'll think twice. Got it?'
Nutt, somewhere in the space between the big bobbly hat and the boa constrictor of a scarf, nodded.