Rundown suburban park. In the course of the monologue, Tom Foster (a local teenager) alternates between leaning on a cracked football post and sitting on a dangerous-looking broken swing. The passage ends with Tom walking briskly off into the distance.
These ‘greebo’s’ sicken me ‘goth chicks’, if you’re on about the women of that sort. I’m not sayin’ that those are the only names they have. They’ve got loads of other names… Goths, grungers, rockers, skaters… they’re all the same. They don’t see it that way but, to be honest, who cares what they think?! They walk around in their black “hoodies” and their black jeans, even the blokes wear bracelets and nail-varnish! And don’t get me started on those shoes they wear which are about 3 sizes too big.
“Filthy scum get outta Brum'” that’s what we say, ‘Dan the man’ made that one up a couple of years back and it’s become our motto ever since… “and you can take your so called “music” with ya”. I don’t know how someone can put themselves through that… Torture!
“Hail Satan”, “slit your wrists”, that’s what they’re into… each one’s as bad as the next. They’d at least be bearable if they listened to some real tunes that didn’t sound like the same thing over and over. ‘Hard-House’, ‘Garage’, ‘Jungle… sheer wicked tunage. Saw DJ Spooney at God’s Kitchen… Massive! The thing is though, his tunes ain’t just wicked basslines, he says they’ve all got their own hidden meanings… and you could feel it. The sweetest night of my life. The crowd were jacked, slammin’ atmosphere! A bit different from so called “moshing”. We go for the music, not to get “wasted”… where’s the fun in that… oh yeah, and what kind of a person doesn’t like football!?
I was walkin’ into town the other day and this loser had a dog collar on… and all the piercing’s you see ’em with… and this chick he was with had the guy on the end of a dog lead and was draggin’ him round all them greebo shops you find on the outside of town… attention seekers, that’s all they are, why else would they do that? Oh… and sick, weirdo S and M lovers… Then again… I’ve seen worse than that… on the same day in fact. I went into the centre to meet my mates and loadsa the freaks was skatin’ and lyin’ all over our monument. I swear they is takin’ over, it’s really vexin’ me. Misty was peeved “That’s our spot,” he says well loud, Dan and the others had to hold him back, there was only like five of us against a loada them drugged up, suicidal loonies. I reckon we coulda taken ’em though. Misty and Stevo are well ‘ard an’ I’ve been known to be workin’ on the weights at the gym lately. In the end nothin’ happened though and they still think it’s theirs now. There ain’t no reasoning with them so we let ’em have it…we honestly don’t care… we’re mature enough to let it go.
There’s some stuff goin’ round bout Eminem bringin out a rock mix of one of his songs… I couldn’t believe it, I never knew that he was ‘down with the freaks’. His songs are normally well good, I swear they’d better only be rumours ‘cos they’ll get thinking that he is one of them.
You can never tell exactly how many of them there are ‘cos they travel in numbers and all dress, act and smell the same. There is this one girl I’m seein’, she’s one of them but she ain’t like the rest. She dresses like them and listens to their “music” but when I was with her the music sounded alright… and between you and me. I downloaded some of the ones we was listening to when I was with her to kinda reminisce bout bein’ with her. I even found remix’s of some of them by DJ Spooney and I found out that he grew up likin’ so called “alternative rock” music. Oh er… I mean… this don’t mean I’m getting into greebo music or nuthin, I only like five songs, honest! well… not includin’ those remix’s I was on about… Nuff said bout her music anyway… she’s comin round mine tomorrow, I’ll show her some of my tunes. I reckon she’ll be wearin normal clothes within a week… anyways… I gotta go. Laters and respect!
Another teenager, somewhat different in appearance to Tom, during this monologue, he sits on the steps of a monument in the centre of town. There are many others on this monument that are dressed in the same manner as him. His name is Jack Rose. This monologue also ends with the subject walking away from the screenshot.
Greasy Kevs… what can I say… scum of the earth. Otherwise known as scallies, fossers and the women… shaz’s or sharons. “Bopping” around in their “Rocky P’s” with socks pulled over their trousers, or as they like to refer to them… “Trackie B’s”… do they think they look good or summit!? What I have never understood is why it is that each of them wears jewellery that overall weighs over two kilograms and makes them look stupid. What is the point in the huge earrings and the “gold” necklaces, which were obviously bought for a fiver from the market. They, of course do not refer to themselves as ‘Kevs’… they see themselves as normal while really they are the butt of most of the jokes that are told at school.
Music, I spose is a big part of our hatred for the scallies. After all, how can you listen to the same thing – or at least what sounds like the same thing – over and over like they do… and then proceed to come out with such phrases as “that tune was wicked” and “sweet tunage man”, and does anyone know what they mean when they say “bo selecta”? I might put up with them if it weren’t for the sheer repetitiveness of the music and maybe if there were a bit more to their songs than the mere pressing of a button. How hard could that be?
I went to see the ‘Murderdolls’ at their gig in town last night. I was moshin’ so hard I didn’t know where I was. My mate said I was out of it at one point and I was totally wasted this morning. It rocked!
Eminem’s good. His lyrics are dark, all about suffering, he’s one of us… no doubt about it. The Kevs have tried claiming him as one of them ‘cos he’s “hard” and they like to think that they are as well. It’s never about the music with them, just baselines and how “tweaked” the snare drum is, whatever that means.
So anyway, we decided that they were takin over too much in Birmingham so we took over their precious monument in the town centre. We’re sick of being ‘the outsiders’ and the minority, so we did something about it… all ten of us. This one guy tried to start something but these kevs are all mouth and after seein’ how scary some of my mates were looking that day, I ain’t surprised they ran cryin… I was never into the whole wearin’ make-up thing though, I’ll leave that to the others, as for piercing’s, my mom would kill me if I went home with a stud in my eyebrow… I reckon I’ll leave them as well. As for the kevs, they’ll be back, and there’ll be loads of them, all from the same “crew”, that’s just their style, scared of fightin’ their battles on fair terms… we’ll be ready for ’em.
I don’t deny having one of them as one of my friends, and I ain’t proud of it but he’s probably my best friend and has been for ages, we were friends at primary school but he went to a different secondary school, and that’s when he changed. If we weren’t long-term friends then I don’t reckon we’d be mates. Having said that though, he’s changed some of my views. I used to hate football, all my other mates hate it…they say it’s one of the things that make you a kev. That’s why I ain’t told them that I’ve got a season ticket for City with my scally mate. I enjoy it though… even though if I wear the clothes that I would normally wear, I’m told I would get “battered”. I’m pretty sure that he’s the only safe one of their sort out there… never really spoken to any others though… See ya round … Rock on!