Northern Beardy Twat

I was in the first few strides of my journey to the worst pub when I saw Martha desperately trying to ignore me on the other side of the street. Dear God forgive me, but I really wouldn't piss on her if she was on fire. . . .
with your half-baked knowledge,
from your half-read books,
with your performers ego,
but without the required looks...
Waited six minutes to be served my first drink. Northern beardy twat wasn't working but drinking and walked past me wearing a t-shirt bearing the legend "cheeky." Trust me son you ain't cheeky.
The smoking-table had been robbed so I perched myself at the apex of the bend of the bar. Wallace was near but wasn't in the mood for a chat. Neither was I.