Brothers in arms

I’ve got to be honest readers, I have no idea how I ended up in this predicament. I knew that Leache was trouble. I knew it. Like I had a sixth sense for trouble. A trouble radar. “BEEP, BEEP, WARNING!” It was going. I bloody knew it. She wouldn’t listen though. They never do.

Gary seemed different. Granted I had him marked down as bit a rough diamond. But I could tell he was generous hearted. We were living in that old Nazi Greta’s place and when Gary suggested we go down to his pal’s in London for a party to watch the World Cup final, it seemed like the ideal getaway.

A weird thing happened before we went down to London. I had a visit from my old friend Steve. He warned me about Gary. Said his dad had said a few choice things when Steve had mentioned that me and Gary had become housemates. Steve’s dad was always paranoid though, that’s coppers for you. He bloody hated me anyway. Ever since that time with the wing mirrors on the high street. Honestly, you’d think in Steve’s dad’s world that no one ever got drunk and had a bit of harmless fun.

Gary certainly had a lot of fun and a lot of friends. He seemed to know everyone in London! You can’t be all bad with that many friends. He knew a lot of girls and he was introducing me as his brother which was bloody brilliant. And considering Roger and Mum got hitched, I suppose in a way we were brothers.

Being an only child I had always wondered what it would be like to have a brother. It was a great feeling if I’m being honest. Just me and Garry. The Barry & Gary show. I couldn’t help thinking that Mum’s selfishness, depriving me of a brother, was probably behind my lack of success in life. Brothers compete and strive on, I mean, you’ve only got to look at the Nevilles.