Bill loves footie. He played a lot when he was younger. He couldn't resist taking a swipe at the gentleman's briefcase.
Bills feels friendly towards him. "Scotland Forever," he says, meaning, you and me, we're not one of these English cunts. Bill spent six years of his life, anchored off Ascension Island. He remembers the chief of police from St Helens. He was black, a great little striker.
His tanker never moved. It was filled regularly with oil to supply the Beeb, the Yanks, the RAF. During the Falklands War, the sky was filled with planes. At night on the beaches, giant turtles would lay their eggs. You'd take motorboats to go ashore, and you had to duck the flying fish. The island was blistering hot -- red, black, and beige from different kinds of lava. But the top of the mountain was emerald, like a memory of the heaths of home.
How he wanted to be back home. Now he wants to be back on Ascension. The crowd roars.
Car 5 map