"That's not football," John insists, but that's all he'll say about it. He's not the Liverpool team's #1 greatest fan who would die for their honour or anything. Although, Billy probably calls it soccer but he's calling it football until the day he dies.
"No point finishing anyway mate. You're wasting your time. You don't need school to stack shelves or drive a forklift." Maybe that's not where the money's at but that's the future John's looking at, rotting away in one of countless production lines in some factory by the docks. And if that's what he has to do instead of touring the world in his own plane screeching out angry expletives to a crowd of thousands, he'll hit that up once he's old enough to get hired for work. Anything that'll get him a paycheque so that he can make it on his own.
"So you're into blokes, huh. How's that working out for you?" John has to ask even though it's clearly none of his business.
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"No point finishing anyway mate. You're wasting your time. You don't need school to stack shelves or drive a forklift." Maybe that's not where the money's at but that's the future John's looking at, rotting away in one of countless production lines in some factory by the docks. And if that's what he has to do instead of touring the world in his own plane screeching out angry expletives to a crowd of thousands, he'll hit that up once he's old enough to get hired for work. Anything that'll get him a paycheque so that he can make it on his own.
"So you're into blokes, huh. How's that working out for you?" John has to ask even though it's clearly none of his business.