HMS Kiss Draft
So me and my best mate Rich are standing are at the front of
the ship. This pretty big, de-commissioned,
Royal Navy destroyer ship called HMS Bristol. There’s probably a proper Navy
name that I should be using, instead of front of the ship, some muggy navy like
shaft or something. There seems to be some wacky Navy name for everything in
cadets. Most of which I can’t ever remember. Even the toilets are called the
heads. Heads? Who comes up with this shit!? Head has come to mean something a
lot different by the time I’m 14! Mind you, Rich reckons he got polished off in
the youth wing toilets once by Gareth’s
cousin, though he’s probably bullshitting.
Rich loves all this cadet stuff. Right now he's playing it cool, leaning
on the edge of the boat, back to the water, one boot on the rails, taking it
all in, enjoying it, smoking a sovereign cigarette but I swear he’s not taking
it down. I’m bent over, hanging on to
the rails, shaking, looking down into the dark merky water of Portsmouth harbour,
wishing that Trident, or something,
would burst up out of the blue and haul me down into a magic coral-underworld,
where I’m taken captive by some buff mermaids
who sing mad 10 part harmonies’ and hold me in a giant sea shell next to some weird
undulating s plants. Away all from this
embarrassment, and away from all the prying eyes burning holes in the back of
this uncomfortable uniform I’ve got on.
I just got asked out!
By a girl! Who I thought yesterday, when
I first stepped on this boat with all the other cadet kids, was about 17, and fit! Turns
out, she’s also 14. And she’s a senior cadet, whatever the fuck that means. Her
name’s Laura. She’s got straight black
hair in a bob and wears red lipstick. Big
brown eyes, smokes Bensen and Hedges
cigarettes. And Laura is fit. She was fit yesterday and she’s even fitter now
and she just asked ME out, just now, in front of all the other kids, on this
big grey arse knackered looking Navy ship. Stuff like this, doesn’t really happen, ever!
Problem is, since getting on this boat, me and Rich have
done well too assert ourselves as the geezerz
that we are and should be universally recognised in being. Letting these other
kids know that we’re no mugs, we’ve got a bit about us, but we’re alright. Rich
even bought his Ralph jacket and he’s wearing it over his uniform! If I had a
Ralph jacket, I’d be doing the same. Just today, me and Rich were schooling some
of these cadet melts about how to spot a fake Ralph;
‘If there aint double stitching on the label, then someone’s
mugging you off!’
These geeks know, that we know, about some real geezer
stuff, like football, and how if you twiddle with the flame adjuster, you can
turn them cheap florescent cigarette lighters into mini flame throwers. Yea, that’s
right. Geezerz. At school, we can’t really pull it off, we get
called Beavis and Buthead, but on this boat,
we’re like the Kray Twins or something!
Most of these kids are pussies, but unless I step up and snog this
girl, who I really fancy, I’m about to blow all that hard work out the water,
quite literally.
Everyone is standing around, looking in my direction, waiting
for me to say something. Each one of these thoughts and feelings wizzing around
inside of me is like a torn up piece of
confetti that’s just been tossed up in the air and I’m desperately scattering
round on the floor trying to pick them up, hoping that no one sees the mess.
‘er, I dunno, like,… maybe yea;’
Was what I came back with, whilst immediately turning round
to lean on the rails, feeling like an instant bellend. That feeling that only
girls seem to have access too, switching it on and manipulating it whenever they
they want, as if there’s an invisible red button in my belly that only they
have the codes too. Rich askes me if I’m alright;
‘Na mate, I feel ill,
I must be like, sea sick or something.’
‘Sea sick?! This boat don’t move mate. It hasn’t moved in
years. It stays in the harbour.’
‘yea, I know, But it does move a little bit, like rocking back and forth and that, tides
and that , doesn’t it? I dunno ,I just aint feeling right.’
Rich looks at me and smiles; ‘You’re nervous aren’t ya?’
‘No!’
‘It’s alright bruv,
it’s your first time yea..’
‘No, no it aint! you
know it aint! I told you, loads of times,
that girl, Lousie, from Church, remember? I got on her loads of times mate,
Frenchie’s and everything, I even got feel ups after Confirmation class once.’
‘Lousie?’ …
Rich is grinning again, whilst pretending to rub
a beard on his face. I don’t know where
this came from, but when someone says ‘itchy beard’ after you’ve just claimed
something, and mimics rubbing their face, as if there’s a beard there, it means they think you’re lying. It’s really,
really annoying, especially in a tense sensitive moment like this one.
‘Na mate, it’s true!’
Rich takes a drag of
his fag, he defintlaey doesn’t take it down.
‘Look…just say yes and get off with her her innit...she’s
fit’
‘yea I know, but what if..…..’
‘What? What if what?!’
‘..What if I fuck it up?’
‘You sure you aint done this before?’
‘Yea, course! Lousie!’
‘Lousie.’
‘Yea Louise, from church.’
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