Her name seemed appropriate somehow, but for a time I was unable to place why. “Daniel Randall, but please call me Danny.” “Well Danny,” she ...aid. “If I may be so bold, you don’t look like you’re having the time of your life up there at the piano.” “I’m not,” I said with a shrug. “But a gig’s a gig.” She nodded. We inhaled, exhaled. The smoke twisted around us, close in the cool, sharp air. “If I may reciprocate your boldness,” I said, “you don’t look like you’re having the best evening. "Neither do I!" says Al as if it was the funniest thing since Nick Clegg and he just about pissed his self laughing.Luckily the battery was up for starting the cunt or the fucking Glencoe massacre would have had a couple or more cunts added, like me and Al but we fucked off a bit smartish down towards the sea, Kinlock-fucking-leven, or is it Fuckinloch leven, we couldn't figure it out and then as tghe dawn broke over the mountains flooding the sea lock with its golden glow, good eh, nicked that. More

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