'Scabs!' we all screamed as the cops tried to help them cross our ines and take our jobs away. Hundreds of us strained at the barricades, and the cops held the scabs back.
'Faggots!' some of our guys yelled at the strikebreakers. All the butches pulled back from the police barricades. The word seared like burning metal.
'Duffy,' I pulled his arm. 'What's this faggot shit?'
Duffy appeared torn in ten directions. 'Alright,' he said. 'Listen up you guys. Stop with the faggot stuff. They're scabs.' The men looked confused.
A light bulb lit up over Walter's head. 'Aw, shit.' He extended his hand to me. 'We didn't mean you guys.'
I shook his hand. 'Listen,' I said, 'call them whatever you want, but don't call them faggots.'
Walter nodded. 'Agreed.'
'You cocksuckers! You motherfuckers!' they shouted instead.
I pushed forward at the barricade. 'You fucking scabs,' I yelled. 'You all have sex with other men.'
The guys looked baffled. 'What's she talking about?' Sammy wanted to know.
'You all have intercourse with your own mother,' I screamed.
'That's digsuting,' Walter said.
Duffy intervened. 'OK, they're scabs and striekbreakers. Let's call 'em what they are, alright?'
People, I cannot quite express how much I am loving this book. It's an easy read, prose-wise; an awful read, plot-wise; a hilarious read, quip-wise. Just do yourself a lovely bank holiday favour and go buy a copy right now.