The tiny kitten lies horribly dead outside the corner shop. Kids going in and out of the shop to buy sweets stop and look at it. Some laugh, some scream. The animal eventually disappears.

He plays football round the car park. When the other side scores, a couple of spectators cheer. He goes over and tells them that when the game's over he's going to kick their teeth in.

The grey coat on the low wall. Difficult to make out whether there's anybody in it or not. Perhaps not.

He has the biggest girl in town against the alley wall while she eats her way through a bagful of saveloy and chips.

The lilac underpants lie beside the manhole cover beside the newspaper full of muck.

He snaps off the car aerials.

The pink cushion rests in the middle of the road in the pouring rain. It is tripped heavily over in the middle of the night. The mongrel, taking its master out for a walk, trots across to the wet cushion and pisses into it twice.

He blows a smoke ring with each exhalation of his last three cigarettes.

The nostalgia of the bicycle tyre hanging high up on the lamppost.

He wears the thin cotton shirt unbuttoned right down to the waist and with the sleeves rolled right up to show his muscles. But everybody else is wearing an overcoat because it's an extremely cold January day.

The piece of plywood with 'LABOURERS WANTED - COWBOYS NEED NOT APPLY' painted on it in turquoise leans against the half-full skip which has suddenly appeared.

He stands on the corner, talking to some people that he knows. When the big rat runs across the road he turns to his friend and tells him to hurry up and stuff his trouser bottoms inside his socks.

The speedo on the white line.

He finds a pink nylon comb lying on the pavement and picks it up. Later, by a gate, he raps the teeth of the comb down across the back of his left hand which he then shakes vigorously until a line of rd dots appears along the knuckles. He licks the blood and returns the comb to his back pocket.