This is a white urban story with strong language and elements of horror.
Tommy Skoller, an experienced drunk, knows when to stop drinking, his legs usually desert him. Mind you, his life on the edge of the Council Tip cannot be compared with that of your average dosser. The rat-infested shed is good enough for an old soldier, far better than the Sally Army or the mean city streets. There is also the wind in off the sea, money in his chest-pouch and a few full bottles of rough red wine hidden around the shed. And, if hard times threaten, he can still do the totting across the fertile Tip. Well, nobody can search the mounds of rubbish like 'Tommy the Totter', back bent and eyes down as he hunts for the valuable metals; lead and copper, the totters' silver and gold.
Loneliness is always a price to pay but there are many advantages in life on the Tip. Tommy has his own furnished shed and an iron bar, always ready to discourage other envious dossers, especially his arch-enemy, Scruffy Churchill.
Torp's recent visits take the edge off the old man's loneliness. The teenager carries all the scars of a redundant generation with his limited education, minor ambitions and a careless mouth. This odd friendship, born of mutual need, only survives because of Skoller's unreliable, drink-sodden memory.
During a long weekend, the relationship between Skoller and Torp strengthens and then deteriorates…
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