Richard Allen – Boot Boys

Ah, boot-boys. Remember them? No, I don’t either. Like Sid Vicious with the hippies, I was too busy playing with my Action Man at the time. And that’s not a euphemism, by the way.

According to this book, boot-boys were a middle-class offshoot of skinheads who tore around town on mopeds raping women and daubing swastikas on the front doors of Jewish residents. The book follows one such gang of boot-boys, The Crackers, led by middle-class white boy Tom. And yes, there were boot-girls too. Just like skinhead girls, they carried weapons in their bra and were all sex mad.

Benjy, a Jewish son of a clothes factory owner, challenges Tom for leadership of The Crackers, and an election is called. (Boot-boys are a very democratic breed, unlike skinheads.) But Benjy (the dog!) bribes all the members of The Crackers with the offer of free clothes if they vote for him. When Tom finds out, the election is called off and they decide to have a daredevil competition on their mopeds instead.

A stray cat foils that plan, so then they go to a football match to see who can beat up the most Geordies. Benjy beats up four Geordies, while Tom can only manage three before he is ejected from the football ground. But while Benjy had a witness to back up his claims, Tom’s witness was a big fat girly who ran away at the first sign of trouble. Which meant that Tom’s claim of six Geordie scalps was unprovable, so the contest was declared null and void.

Next they have a shag-off to decide who gets to be leader of the gang. Six dolly-birds are lined up for each of them but they both falter after the fifth. A dead heat that left two dollies still on heat, as it were. So then they decide on a knife fight.

After that, things start to get a little bit … well … silly is the word that springs to mind.

So is it any good? Mate, it’s a Richard Allen book. The simple fact that you are here reading this means that you want it just as much as a dolly-bird that’s been turned into a nympho after being gang-raped by a bunch of marauding skinheads on Brighton beach wants shagging.

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About Marcus Blakeston

Ex-shouting poet, ex-fanzine writer, ex-angry young man (now growing old disgracefully). Living in sunny Yorkshire with his wife, children and motorcycle, Marcus still has a healthy distrust of all forms of authority.
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