When I wasn’t conducting deviant
sexual experiments with high-powered vacuum cleaners, the work with Benham’s
usually involved servicing boiler rooms up in the West End. But the one job
which stood out involved heading north into the wilds of Willesden. There was a
Wall’s sausage factory up there, and I remember having to see them slaughtering
the fucking pigs. These weird dudes with aprons covered in claret were doing
the deed. The strange faces these guys had – they looked like lunatics. The
pigs came in off a lorry and got shuffled into these little pens, then the
geezer would put the big electric prong on them. Before there was time to see
if they were dead or not, they’d get hooked up by their hooves and sent
whizzing up this fucking conveyor belt with their back feet at the top and
their heads hanging down. First they went through this furnace which would burn
all the skin off, then they’d be washed clean with jets of water. The poor
cunts didn’t stop on the conveyor belt till they were in a packet. I remember
watching up to the point where the geezer with his big knife slit open the
stomach and all the fucking claret came out the middle of it. That place was
just a fucking hellhole and I’d never seen anything like it. Not even when
Chelsea played Leeds.

I've got this, and have read it. I absolutely loved the book. One of those books where you come away really liking the person it's about, while realising he was a nightmare for much of his life.
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