Made me want to move my dancin feet.
The coagulated rythms of London dropped tempo and eased into the summers afternoon. Stuffed up commuters flowered out of Ealing Broadway tube into the harsh freedom of the sun. There was an hour left to fit in that final purchase.
'Buy beer for England, is the official message for today!' Emanated from every corner of the city. People did their duty willingly. An empty 'Believe' bar wrapper fluttered past the feet of Mary K Bright and wendled its way through the emptying street towards the Broadway. Picking up a thermal belched from a number 207 bendy bus, it gathered pace and height before settling down again outside the North Star, where it got stuck to the shoe of 'Black Dog' Sparrow. He dragged it into the pub, through to the toilet and kicked it into the urinal.
Mary K Bright, or 'Mary K Bright' to her freinds, always had her name mentioned with fingered quotation marks. So, as she paid for her rocket salad, chardonay and sprouts, she wasn't surprised when the shop assistant asked her 'Would you like a cash-back 'Mary K Bright'?'
'Yeah, just give me twenty pounds please.'
'OK, 'Mary K Bright'.'
Somehow, this time, it struck a chord. There was nothing unusual in the name 'Mary K Bright', she wasn't famous and nor did she share the name with anyone who was famous, but people always felt the need to call her by her full name and accompany it with fingered quotation marks. In her late teens, she had even started doing it herself.
She stepped out of the shop and on to the empty street. People had dissapeared to watch the football. In all of the shops the staff were setting up televisions to watch the game.
It was lovely to almost have the town to herself, so she wandered about a bit and smiled at others who had decided not to watch the football. After a while she went into Pocco Loco and treated herself to an overpriced, bog standard, but served with a superior smile coffee and settled down to try and read last weeks Observer cover to cover without throwing up. She didn't get very far and threw up into her coffee. Luckily, all of the waiters were engrossed in the game, so she slipped out unnoticed and went for a walk in Walpole park, where she stumbled upon four young British men who were not watching the football.
She couldn't help herself 'Oh my god, you're not watching the football, why is that?' she shouted across to them. 'Because we don't fucking want to.' replied Sheperd, the oldest of the four, who was rolling a spliff. They were surrounded by empty cans of Fosters, and looked all the world as if they really should be watching the football.
'Why don't you want to watch the football?' Black Dog decided to answer her query with a history of the British empire and started to get into flow 'You see, the trouble with English football is that.....' he warmed to his subject and started to gain momentum '.....imperialism. And that's just the start of it......' finally he reached his cruising speed and bobbed along like a roadside generator. Nobody would be able to stop him now. The Skunk broke wind and commented that 'I fucking hate footbal when the world cup isn't on, so why should I like it now. Fucking bastards, and that Wayne Rooney....'
'Oh! you'll be pleased to hear that Rooney has been sent off or something, I'm not sure' said Mary K Bright.
'YES!' they all shouted, Black Dog changed gear 'And as for Rooney....' bob bob bob bob bob bob. The Sheperd lit his spliff and passed it to the Skunk, who was digging a hole with a twig, happy as a pig in shit.
Mary k Bright started to get bored, so left. England lost the world cup and everyone lived happily ever after anyway.