Class by Rowan McCabe

“It’s class
when you get pissed with your mates
and there’s none of those lot, standing around,
taking up space that should be ours.

You know what I mean? It’s wicked as fuck
When you take one look at what their wearing
and you push them
because you wouldn’t even breathe the same air
as someone who talks like that.

And I don’t care! It’s class.
And I wouldn’t even look at them
eye to eye, or stand with them
toe to toe, or fight with them hand in hand
against any bollocks that matters.”


Want more? We recommend Peggy’s Brambles

Nah, time for Prose

Go back to Issue 2

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