Kevin Bridges: The Story So Far - Live in Glasgow Page #4

"Good night."

And he continues the charade,

and he says, "Oh, you're going to

bed, Son? Oh, that's fine. Good night."

And as that mutual father-and-son,

we both know what the plan is here.

Casually exit the living

room, nice and slow.

Don't even stop off in the

kitchen for a look in the fridge.

Eyes on the prize,

right up the stairs.

Bedroom TV switched on,

go to channel number 6.

That's when you see what

he's watching, number 6.

TVs are synchronised,

but he's in control.

A few minutes go by and he's still

watching Match of the Day.

I'm thinking, "That's fine, he must

be giving it a couple of minutes.

"You don't want to

make it too obvious.

"Nice and smooth. He's done

this before. Nice and smooth."

Another few minutes go by, I'm thinking,

"Come on, stick to the plan, Andy.

"You're better

than this, come on."

Looking at the bottom right of the TV,

waiting for the numbers to get typed in.

The numbers that could make or

break the evening's entertainment.

Waiting for the numbers. "Go on, play

your numbers, give me your numbers."

Nine. That's good.

That's good.

He's played a nine. Could not have

hoped for a better start than a nine.

Zero-five, the 10-minute

freeview. Jackpot!

"You're a dirty bastard,

Dad, but I love you."

Yeah, that was back in the

day, back in the old days

when the late-night TV was good.

Remember Channel 5

would stick a porno on.

You'd have programmes like

Eurotrash on Channel 4.

And that's what kept young

people off the streets.

That should put an end to

teenage antisocial behaviour...

put soft-core porn back on

terrestrial TV at the weekend.

Thank you, sir.

Remember you'd be there

watching Channel 5,

The Red Shoe Diaries,

or Indecent Proposals,

it gets to the good bit.

You're ripping the

head off it, right?

You get to the point of no

return and they go to adverts.

Quick, change that

to Eurotrash.

A midget poking a zebra's

arse with a shopping trolley.

Oh, it's by no means ideal,

but it's better than nothing.

Remember finding a

porn mag in a hedge?

That's a dying game, innit?

Finding a porno in a bush.

Remember you'd be playing football,

the ball'd get kicked in the bushes.

Somebody would go in to retrieve the

ball, they would come out with no ball.

Proudly parading in a wank book.

Match abandoned.

Finding a porno in a hedge.

It's those kind of coming-of-age

moments that shape you as a person.

I don't know if I can reminisce

about much at 23 years old,

but I like to reminisce about

the '90s, the good old days.

Back when it was just a

PlayStation 2 and stuff like that.

Remember your first taste of independence,

when word had spread in your school

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