Looks like you might have put on a few pounds mate?
The comment was thrown my way casually like a knife made of bile.
Aye, so have you, you FAT PIE-MUNCHING BASTARD!
I roared like a Lion protecting the penis receptacles that were his herd.
My friend Daz darted in and prodded my sexy flat stomach before giving me a man hug of heterosexuality.
Hey you, what about social distancing?
I tried to sound stern but I was pleased to see the salty blighter. I hadn't seen him since the start of lockdown and I realised I had missed meeting real people for real in the flesh.
And here I was, in the local park, finally seeing a proper someone that wasn't immediate family or some tit on a laptop screen.
I stepped back and surveyed him, underfoot the grass squeaked slightly.
Ach, fuck the distancing mate. Nobody else gives a fuck any more. You been to the shops lately?
Daz shook his head at the folly of man.
He was right. I had been at the supermarket at the weekend and far from being a socially distanced sparsely populated affair, it was like a Roman orgy but with less nakedness and more sandals.
Very true mate, very true.
I reached forward and gave him a friendly punch in the shoulder.
Nearby a man was walking his dog and gave us a stern look. I am not sure if it was a stern look because we looked to be breaking lockdown social distancing rules or if it were because we were breaking The Code by displaying manly signs of affection.
Check that cunt?
Growled Daz, frowning in the direction of the man and his dog.
Aye, prick.
I agreed happily in the way of the Scottish, which is to only be happy if we refer to everyone in a sweary obscenity kind of way.
Should we grab him and stick his yappy wee dog up his arse?
Daz smiled wolfenly.
We were both without our kids and our wives. The question hung in the air like smoke.
I looked over at the man who continued to glare at us whilst looking to be either mumbling something under his breath or chewing something mooky.
Nah, leave him. It's not the eighties mate. So how has lockdown been with three kids?
It's been balls mate but to be honest having three kids is balls so I haven't totally noticed the difference. Oh look, he's coming over?
Daz pointed at the dog man who was marching over waving some kind of orange plastic stick in his hand.
Looks really angry? Maybe we should stick his dog up his arse?
I mused as the man approached to within a few metres.
Are you going to give me the ball or what?!
Dog-Man sputtered angrily.
What fucking ball?
I grunted, glancing down at his dog to see if it looked to be a willing arse-spelunker or if it would have to be forced.
The ball you have been standing on for five minutes. The ball I have been politely asking for. You have been ignoring me!?!
The man bleated indignantly as if he were one of our girls handing in a short roll after a night on the corner.
I looked down at the ground and noticed a spongey-looking chewed up ball half under my foot. I moved my foot and it squeaked slightly.
Oh, was that what the squeaking was. Aye, there you go.
I kicked the ball over to him and his yappy dog.
Dog-Man harrumphed and walked away with his lucky-it-wasn't-inserted-into-a-rectum dog.
Balls, eh. That's lockdown in a nutshell!
I laughed.
Daz joined in.
Yep, fucking balls.