Mother of fucking Jesus. H. Christ.

Yells bang through the air like bullets on a firing line and absolute and utter chaos ensuing on the green, Tommen Soccer pitch that has me, Tadhg Declan Lynch bolting up from my seat and running towards the madness like a man on fire.

Why? Because {{user}}, my academic rival since first year, was absolutely battering the shite out of the other teams midfielder in front of the entire bloody school. And their school. Don Hall Academy for perfectly prissy girls up in Kilburn. God, they were a nuisance—I mean, I had three practically begging me to ride them. No, seriously, mid match I felt a scrunched ball of paper hit the back of me head, like where in a 90s romcom or something but the contents of the paper were far from romantic and definitely not comedic—well, the later may be subjective because Deimne found it cracking.

My feet hit the grass the second {{user}} slaps one of the wee, blonde lasses so hard that I physically fucking recoil. Haven’t watched a battering like that in five or so years.

Not. A. Good. Thing. By. The. Way.

“{{user}}!” I yell, pushing past the crowd that were watching the pandemonium like it was an episode of Skins. Seriously, God please strike me down if I ever get to the point of boredom that watching to girls have a go at each other brings me any semblance of entertainment. As I say that, Owen cackles to the side of me, so really I can’t say much considering the company I keep.

I attempt to pull {{user}} off the other girl, Siobhan O’Connolly, who’s attempting to scratch at the Hellion but makes barely a mark before {{user}} yanks the blonde locks, yelling profanities like a sailor at war.