‘Worst thing about it,’ I say, returning it to the pocket of my jeans. We’re walking past the Civic Centre, through the garden by the war memorial. It feels a little good to be smoking dope so close to the seat of local civic power. A little good, and, on a day like today, a little scary. A little like Weimar.
We’re relaxing, our guard is down. We’re heading for Jesmond Metro station, which will take us past the Robinson Library. The only fascists we’re likely to find up here are grammar Nazis.
‘Jesus,’ Emma says, ‘that fucking woman.’
'The blonde in the white shirt? I know, right?’
‘Better teeth than I thought she’d have.’
‘Well, y’know, they say kebabs…no actually, that’s not fair.’
Emma looks at me. ‘Are you worried about being mean to a racist?’
‘Well, no, but…I don’t think we should mock them for class reasons, that’s all. Y’know, all that stuff about them being dregs and from slums and stuff. That girl at the end had a point.’
‘What? Little Miss Male Aggression?’
‘Well yeah, that’s bollocks. But like…’
‘Especially given what that woman did! Bloody male aggression, that was the most aggressive act of the protest and it was a bloody cis woman doing it! Male aggression.’
‘Well yeah, yeah, obviously she…whoa.’
I come to a halt by the cool bridge/tunnel thing that connects the Robinson to the rest of the Newcastle campus.
‘You okay, sweets?’
I nod. ‘Yeah, I’m fine, I just…female aggression…’
‘Easy tiger, society hasn’t broken down to the extent that you can fap openly in public yet.’
I punch her on the shoulder.
‘It’s not that! It’s just…think about it. There were a bunch of them, guys and a girl…’
‘So…?’
‘So it was the girl who tried to fight us.’
‘Oh.’
‘Yeah. Oh.’
We stand in silence by the mostly-empty library. For want of anything better to do I get into the lee of the bridge and start refilling the Bomb.
‘Damn,’ says Emma, looking off into the distance. ‘Damn. I feel almost complimented.’
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