And then what? I walk two miles home in the searing heat, and find my girlfriend getting boned in the front room by her ex-boyfriend, that slimy, spic motherfucker Pedro. Fuck that, people round ‘ere must think I’m a cunt. But I showed ‘em, yeah, I showed ‘em alright.
Those couple of spics won’t forget the day they fucked over Jason Dorris. Sneaking about behind my back, what, do you think I’m stupid? I’ll tell you something for nothing though; the scars on her face won’t make it easy for her to give her pussy away in future. And him, he’ll be lucky if he can think straight without dribbling spit all over ‘imself, he’s fucked.
Yeah, those cunts’ll remember me, if they ever wake up, that is. Fucking Spanish didn’t know what hit ‘em. And they’ll never find me even if they do come around. That’s it, I’m gone. Bag packed, my Aussie passport and my Irish passport and a bit of their cash as well. Just a loan mind you, they’ll get it back when I see ‘em in hell. Fucking assholes.
So ‘ere I am, sat on the bus and heading down the coast, the ‘Costa Del Crime’ as the English call it, gonna see what all the fuss is about.
Maybe I’ll find myself a new ‘chica’ to help me get involved with the players down there and set up my own business. It’s full of powder down there, like the rest of Spain but worse, the first port of call for the cocaine, inbound from the Americas, apparently.
Well I’ll soon find out, and then I’ll get involved. I just need to calm it down for a bit, lay low for a while, find my contacts, wait for the right moment and then bring it to ‘em Jason style.
I’ll have the rich kids eating fucking powder from the palm of my hand. If anybody gets in my way, I’ll crack some more skulls. People are gonna realize that I’m a live wire, a dangerous Aussie who doesn’t give a shit.
Here I come, Marbella, ready or not.”
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