G: They say every poet has a sliver of ice in the core of his heart.
Ali: My sliver’s in the core of my whisky.
Other Ali: Hi Ho Sliver, I’ll drink to that.
G: How are we going to rehearse if you two are permanently pissed?
Ali 1: We are going to rehearse pissed because we give the readings pissed.
Ali 2: We couldn’t get on stage and bear our soles if we were sober.
G: Souls, that should be souls.
Ali 2: No - SOLES.
The soles of my Doc Martens in your stupid Scouse gob.
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