Opening Credits

Eh?

Ten K?

That's not a distance,

lad.

That's—

that's gettin' there.

That's the opening credits.

You haven't even found out who gets murdered yet.

Three K there,

ten K round,

couple K walkin' back through town.

Gets in the house—

“Y'alright?”

Yeah.

“Legs?”

Sound.

“Could yer run again?” Course I could,

lad.

“Another ten?”

Yeah. “At the same pace?” ...

Could I bollocks.

COULD I BOLLOCKS.

Listen— Me legs haven't resigned.

Me legs are sound.

Me cardiovascular system, however,

has submitted—

a formal—

grievance.

One-seven-nine.

Still sound.

One-eight-one. Bit warm.

One-eight-three— EEEEEE LAD, TURN THAT HOB DOWN,

THE PAN'S FUCKIN' SMOKIN'.

TEN KILOMETRES? THAT'S THE OPENING CREDITS,

LAD. Ten kilometres? I've not even got me coat off.

Ten kilometres? Me legs are askin' what's next.

Same ten kilometres, same bastard pace?

COULD I BOLLOCKS.

First K—

four twenty-five.

Why?

Dunno.

Felt good, didn't it?

That's Friday wages pacing,

that.

Paid Friday,

absolutely flyin',

Saturday morning— checking the banking app like someone's robbed yer.

WHO'S SPENT THAT? You have,

lad.

You spent it.

In kilometre one.

Then there's a hill.

Thirty metres.

Thirty miserable metres. Looks at yer.

You look at it.

Hill goes: “Alright?” No.

Five-eighteen.

Disgusting.

Absolutely disgusting behaviour from the landscape.

But then—

five-oh-three,

four-fifty-seven, four-fifty-one, four-forty-five, FOUR-FORTY-FIVE.

Heart goin' one-eight-one, one-eight-one,

ONE-EIGHT-THREE. Legs: “Sound,

lad.”

Heart: “WE NEED TO DISCUSS YOUR CONDUCT.” Lungs:

“HOOOOOOOOO— HAAAAAAAAAA—” Fella next to yer: “HEH HEH HEH

HEH HEH HEH—” Why's he breathin' like a Staffy

that's just chased the 86?

Different exhaust, lad.

Same engine problem.

TEN KILOMETRES?

THAT'S THE OPENING CREDITS,

LAD.

Ten kilometres? That's gettin' there.

That's parkin' up. That's checkin' you've got yer number.

But race it properly—

ohhhhhhh, different bastard proposition.

Could yer keep running?

Course yer could.

Could yer keep doing THAT?

COULD. I. BOLLOCKS.

So you're not destroyed?

No.

And that's alright? Yeah.

Could go for a jog now.

Don't.

Why? Because it'd be junk miles,

wouldn't it?

... Fuckin' hell.

Who invited the coach?

opening

credits, lad... credits, lad...

could I bollocks... bollocks...

bollocks...