Spiderman Part 2
I had to ask.
I have foolishly entered into a conversation with a man ten years my junior. Which one should never do; it’s ultimately depressing. But for some reason I felt compelled to match his absurdity, even in the knowledge that the idiocy of youth will eventually defeat me. I can’t win. I watch Newsnight and enjoy Radio 2 for fucks sake. I know I’m dead in the water as I look at his goofy grin and his young eyes sparkling with delight.
God help me he makes me think of my son. My nearly- three year old son who experiences many mundane things as if they are small miracles.
Thug: Aye. Reet thun. Ya knaw when you’re whackin’ off like?
Me: [sigh] I suppose.
Thug: Aaaaye ye dae like! Ah can tell.
Me: Can we just do this?
He’s virtually dancing with delight. Again I reminded of a small child. Albeit one slightly simpler than my son.
Thug: Aye alreet Grandad. Ah knaw yuz is hankerin after a Worther’s Original so's Ah'll be quick. So you spunk it all oot reet, and you’re wonderin’ what ta dae wi’ it?
Me: OK then.
In many ways I admire his delight at the new-found wonders of the world. He lives in a constant state of excitement akin to a fourteen-year-old who has found a copy of Razzle in the bushes on his way home from school.
Thug: Reet then, so ya gans up to your lass, and flick your wrist and fling a fistful of spidey-web reet in her face and ya gans ‘Spiderman! Spidermaaan!’
I am now no longer thinking about my son, except to hope that he never grows up. At least not into this.
What I am doing is trying to remember my early twenties, and the quiet nights in I had with my lady friend at the time. Oddly, Thug’s new-found past-time had never occurred to me as an effective way of spending the evenings. And if it had, I’m not sure how welcome it would have been. How times change.
Me: OK then. I’ve got some work to d-
Thug: Have ye hurd me impression of The Claw off of Inspector Gadget?
Me: No. Go away now.
Thug: Do ya knaw it’s true black people can’t swim? Their bones are too dense or summat?
Me: Not as dense as you. Fuck off.
I’m left in silence for a while. I do some work and try not to worry too much about the future of civilization. From the other side of the office I hear:
Thug: Ah divn’t knaw wits up with that Tired like. He’s a reet grumpy cunt at the minute.