Shoe Shop Princess

It’s not easy, like, bein’ in t’public eye all t’time, y’know. Every day thousands o’ folk see me and can’t help but wanna talk to us or giz a wave an’ that. It’s dead ‘ard. When you’re in t’ sort o’ position ah’m in, there’s no escape. It’s like bein’ a celebrity, only wi’out all t’ champagne an’ chocolates an’ footballer boyfriends an’ money an’ Goochy clothes an’ all that. Oh yeah, working in t’ shoe shop is t’ Mecca o’ world showbiz.

Ah mean, tek other day, right, this right fookin’ wanker comes in wi’ an attitude bigger than Darren Blenkinsopp’s willy and is givin’ it all t’ “You work in a shoe shop so yer must be a stupid cow, right?”. Y’know the sort, wanting to try loads o’ different shoes on, interruptin’ me fookin’ fag break, sayin’ t’ shoes were too bastard tight an’ all that bloody caper. By t’ end of it me nerves were that stretched ah thought, ‘Right yer southern bastard, ah’m gonna teach yer a lesson.’

So, ah goes down to t’ stockroom an’ ah ask Craig Ollerenshaw who works down there if ‘e’ll do us a favour. “Course ah will, Chezza luv, as long as ah can ‘ave a feel o’ yer tits, like.” Well, he’s a dirty bastard an’ he’s only 16, but he’s got big ‘ands an’ y’know what that means so ah let ‘im. Any road, he let me swap round a pair o’ shoes wi’ another so we’ve got 2 shoes a different size in t’ same pair. Are yer wi’ me?

Anyway, ah dun it an’ sold ’em to fookin’ knob and then he were gone. Rest o’ t’ day were a shower o’ shite so ah just got on wi’ it, give Craig another feel (well he sez it helps clear ‘is acne bless ‘is cotton socks, so ah cunt really refuse him, cud ah?

In any case right, ah were getting’ ready to go out into town that night right, and me mum and dad wre arguing as usual. Fookin’ ‘ell, man, all ‘e did were come in late last night and accidentally beat the livin’ fook out of ‘er when ‘e were drunk! It’s not as if ‘e’s ‘avin’ an affair or owt like that is it? Mum should thank he lucky bleedin’ stars she’s got a man. She’s a right ugly cow and she’s got tits like a used Johnny. Me dad tried to slip it to me auntie once when ‘e were pissed, and me mum went mad about that an’ all. Silly cow.

So ah’m getting ready, yeah, and me mate Teresa’s round trying on that new shiny lipstick me little sister nicked out o’ Superdrug. Ah’m trying to squeeze into that new dress ah got off o’ t’ market, but it’s all to cock. Fookin’ robbin’ bitch on that stall, no way can this be a 10. Sizes must be wrong. Mind you, it’s like Italian design intit, an’ everyone knows them Italians are all anorexic coke ‘eads so that would be a size 10 to them wuntit? Bloody eye-ties, I dunno. Robbin’ gets. Mind you, ah once did that bloke from pizza parlour, an’ ‘e were Italian and ‘e went like t’ clappers, so ah spose they’re not all bad are they?

Right, any road, ah were getting’ ready an’ all of a sudden me bloody ex boyfriend Duane pulls up outside in his red capri blaring ‘is ‘orn. ‘Ay up’ I thought, ‘what does this knob’ead want?’ Ah broke up wi’ ‘im a few weeks since when ah caught ‘im shagging me sister in t’ toilets at t’ Pink Palace. Bastard, ‘ow cud ‘e? He bloody knows that if a bloke gets caught in t’ ladies toilets they put t’ Babycham back up to full price! So ah ‘ad to dump ‘im, cos thanks to ‘im ah cunt get pissed that night.

In any case, there ‘e were outside t’ house in ‘is new shirt off o’ t’ market, so ah goes downstairs and out past t’ burnt-out car in t’ garden and go up to ‘im. Ah sez to ‘im, wot d’yer want, Duane Eckersley?” and he sez back “Ahd’ve thought that were fairly obvious, Chezza.”
An’ ah sez, “No, it fookin’ int. Wot d’yer want?”
An’ ‘e sez, “Ah’ve come for yer little sister, ah’m taking ‘er to t’ Orange Orchid tonight.”
So ah sez, “yer bastard! Any road she’ll ne’er gerrin, she dunt even look 14. An’ anyway, what’s wrong wi’ tekkin’ me?”
“Yer’d be t’ oldest bird in there, Chezza. Yer 13 fer fook’s sake.”

So ah thought fook yer then, an’ ah went to t’ Pink Palace an’ ah did wot ah always do when Duane pisses me off. Ah shagged all t’ bouncers and then ‘is dad. That’ll teach yer to mess wi’ me, yer bastard.