Thursday, October 15, 2009

The Snapper by Roddy Doyle (Penguin Books 1990)


Sharon sat down again. She whispered to Jimmy Sr.

- Me uterus is beginnin' to press into me bladder/ It's gettin' bigger.

Jimmy Sr turned to her.

- I don't want to hear those sort o' things, Sharon, he said. - It's not righ'.

He was blushing.

- Sorry, said Sharon.

- That's okay. Who's tha' fuckin' eejit, Darren?

- Can you not just say Eejit? said Veronica.

- That's wha' I did say! said Jimmy Sr.

Darren laughed.

Veronica gave up.

-Da, said Darren.

- No, yeh can't have a bike.

Darren got up and left the room in protest. That left Jimmy Sr and Veronica by themselves.

- There's Cliff Richard, said Jimmy Sr.

Veronica looked up.

- Yes.

- I'd never wear leather trousers, said Jimmy Sr.

Veronica laughed.

Jimmy Sr found the remote control. He'd been sitting on it.

- He's a Moonie or somethin', isn't he? he said as he stuck on the Sports Channel. - And an arse bandit.

- He's a Christian, said Veronica.

- We're all tha', Veronica, said Jimmy Sr. - Baseball! It's worse than fuckin' cricket.

He looked at it.

He looked at it.

- They're dressed up like tha' an' chewin' gum an' paint on their faces, so you're expectin' somethin' excitin', an' wha' do yeh get? Fuckin' cricket with American accents.

Jimmy Jr stuck his head round the door.

- Finished with the paper yet?

- No.

You're not even lookin' at it.

- It's my paper. I own it. Fuck off.

Jimmy Sr switched again; an ad for a gut-buster on Sky.

- Jesus!

- You've got the foulest mouth of anyone I ever knew, Veronica told hi. - Ever.

- Ah lay off, Veronica.

No comments: