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Hooligans We all walked determinedly down the wet, charcoal-grey streets, flanked by the debilitated Victorian terraces. The sky was dark and the clouds black and menacing

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Introduction

Hooligans We all walked determinedly down the wet, charcoal-grey streets, flanked by the debilitated Victorian terraces. The sky was dark and the clouds black and menacing, threatening to let rip torrents of rain. Out of the score of people there, none of us spoke, heads faced only one way; forwards, jaws locked in a semipermanent grimace, concentrating on nothing more than marching. Slowly, a magnificent white dome, seeming very out of place among the ancient red bricks and grey concrete, emerged in the distance from behind the terraced houses, and as we trudged on towards it, all signs of residence petered out, and we were left standing in a clearance next to a run-down factory. The River Thames ran just a few feet from where we were standing; a dark green, opaque serpent of water. We had come to an abandoned part of Canary Wharf, somewhere quiet and secluded, just as agreed. I pulled up the collars of my coat, and blew into my cupped hands, but it did little against the cold. I felt a hand land on my shoulder. I turned and looked at a severely pockmarked face with small squinty eyes, barely visible under the messy jungle of hair. I smiled and nodded at the man. ...read more.

Middle

he asked. I nodded my head and gave him a smile. 'I'm fine, I'm fine. I just can't wait till I get my hands on those Millwall bastards.' 'That's the spirit. But remember son, be careful out there, yeh?' Jims face turned serious and he gripped my shoulder so hard it began to hurt. 'You know we've hated them Millwallers for a long time... And here's our chance to finally show them what we're all about. But remember Tommy, watch yourself out there.' I was taken aback by the sudden change in Jim, and made to reply when- 'They're here! Look, they're here!' We all looked towards where the guy that shouted was pointing to, and sure enough, a group of men were walking towards us. They carried on coming our way, and stopped within throwing distance. They had a few extra men more than us, and most of them were heavily built. All of them were scowling, spitting on the floor, anything to show their resentment for us. And yet we had never seen or got to know them before; we were just continuing a feud from another generation. We stood in a long line, parallel to them, both sides eyeing each other up, calculating, waiting for something to happen. ...read more.

Conclusion

I grabbed him bye his collar and dragged him to a safer, if not safe distance and held him in my arms while I crouched down beside him. "Jim. Jim, you OK?" I asked desperately. I got no answer. I shook him. Still silent. My hands ran over his body quickly and rested when I felt a warm wet patch. Blood was slowly gushing from a gash in his thick jacket, leading to his stomach, and I was dumbfounded at how I didn't notice it before. "Help! Somebody help! He's dying, he's f***ing dying!" I shouted till I nearly lost my voice, and I continued screaming long after everyone stopped fighting. .......................................... Jim died before we got him to a hospital. His muscular body lay limp on the stretcher when they carried him in, eyes closed forever, a victim of his own sport. His death affected all of us. Even the Millwallers grieved a little. To us, he was a martyr of our underground street life, a wise older brother to us all. After Poor old Jim's death I just wasn't the same again. I stopped all this gang nonsense, but I never regretted it. Jim showed me how to stand up for myself whenever I had to, and never to be afraid. I couldn't thank him enough for that, and in that way, his death wasn't totally in vain. God bless you, and good luck Jim, wherever you are... THE END ?? ?? ?? ?? Javed ...read more.

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