Meadowside Read Online Free Page A

nothing, organised disjointed football yobs and louts into a force to be reckoned with. One to strike fear into the hearts of rival firms. Smiffy had no doubt the Skumfuckers would go down in history one day.
    Shefferham United had done them proud that day, winning three-nil against arch-enemies Chelterton FC. The Chelterton Boot Boys, despite all their threats on the Skumfuckers’ Facebook page, had been a no-show inside the stadium. Even outside on the streets they hid behind the skirts of an army of coppers like a bunch of frightened schoolgirls as they skipped off back to the train station and went on their way back to their rat-infested home town.
    The chant had gone out – CBeebies, who the fuck are you? – but none of the Chelterton Boot Boys took the bait. No doubt they would come up with some lame excuse, but Smiffy knew the truth. The CBeebies had bottled it. And as soon as Smiffy got home he would update the Skumfuckers’ Facebook page to let the whole world know about it. But for now he was content to just drink a toast to Shefferham United and celebrate the sound thrashing Chelterton FC had received. The other Skumfuckers had gone home to their wives and kids, but for Smiffy, Stonker and Johnno it was the start of a twelve hour drinking session that wouldn’t end until the early hours of the following morning.
    Johnno swaggered over, holding his phone out so Smiffy and Stonker could see the photo he had taken of them. Smiffy grunted his approval. Both his and Stonker’s huge, bright red pupils made them look like demonic warriors. Stonker drained his Special Brew and crushed the can in one hand. He lobbed it at the war memorial statue and cheered when it bounced off a soldier’s head and clattered to the ground. An old woman glared and tutted as she passed.
    “Fuck off, you old bag,” Stonker shouted.
    He took a step toward her with his fist raised. The woman hobbled away muttering something about damn hooligans with no respect for anything.
    “Respect is fucking earned,” Stonker shouted after her. He cracked open another can of Special Brew and took a long swig.
    Smiffy smiled and shook his head. He knew Stonker was only teasing the old woman, but it had certainly put a spring in her step. He took another gulp of his own Special Brew and watched her lose herself in the crowd of shoppers.
    Something caught Smiffy’s eye, a quick flash of movement in the distance. Someone screamed. Shoppers plodded to a halt and grew silent, looked at each other. Another scream. People craned their necks to see what was happening, then scattered in all directions.
    Smiffy climbed onto the war memorial and stretched himself up to see what the fuss was about. People ran by on both sides, wide-eyed and terrified. One woman dragged a young child behind her, the child stumbling as it tried to keep up with her fast pace.
    There was some sort of commotion outside the off-license, a lot of pushing and shoving going on. Smiffy saw someone pinned up against the shop window by three men. A woman, judging by her hysterical screams. A young man went to her aid and got dragged to the ground for his troubles. They pounced on him, no doubt for a quick bit of facial reconstruction for interfering with their fun with the woman.
    “It’s the fucking CBeebies,” Smiffy said, pointing. “They must have sneaked off the fucking train at Meadowside.”
    “The fucking cunts,” Johnno said, shaking his head. “That’s bang out of fucking order.”
    Smiffy nodded. Attacking innocent civvies brought hooliganism into disrepute, gave everyone a bad name once the TV news got hold of the story. The Skumfuckers would never do anything like that. The Skumfuckers had honour. They had class. They didn’t fight women and kids.
    There were five of them as far as Smiffy could tell, and they showed no colours. Not one single football scarf or replica kit amongst them, as if they were ashamed to be associated with Chelterton FC. Unlike Smiffy and his