We were just leaving the tube station, headed to our favourite bar of the moment when we heard a tirade of verbal abuse about “Fucking poofs.”

“Keep walking,” Tony said grabbing my jacket to prevent me stopping.

“They can’t do that.” I spat out, angry.

“I know, but we don’t want trouble. There are at least five of them, come on.” Tony spoke sense, as always.

“Wankers,” I shouted over my shoulder.

“Nice one, wind them up.” Tony was annoyed. “Duck.”

“What the …. what was that?” I asked as I avoided a missile that had been launched in our direction.

“A brick from the building site. They went in there. I thought they’d buggered off, but they went in for ammo. Now move it, Quick,” Tony pulled me along the road towards the bar as more missiles headed our way.

Realising the danger we were in I grabbed Tony’s hand and we ran along the rest of the road to the bar, falling in the doorway, breathless.

“You alright, lads?” the doorman asked.

“Just about, some wankers threw bricks at us as we came round the corner down there.” Tony explained. “Queerbashers.”

I was in shock. “Why?” I whispered.

“Cos they’re ignorant scum,” the doorman replied. He opened the door wide for us to go in. “Don’t worry, you’re safe now, and we can call the cops. It’s not the first time this has happened, but I bet the rozzers won’t get round to doing something till someone gets hurt”

‘Safe?’ I wondered as we moved to the bar among a sea of friendly faces.  I wasn’t sure we could ever be truly safe.




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