Barry, Finley, and Ethan had just finished sixth form. Their exam results wouldnât arrive for a few weeks, but they all felt confident they had done well enough to get into university. Each was set to follow their family path - Barry into law, Finley into accounting, and Ethan toward a career in stockbroking.
They had started celebrating the moment they left their final exam, heading straight to Ethanâs house with a few drinks in hand. When his parents returned home and the vibe shifted, the boys decided to keep the party going and caught a bus into town. Sitting at the back, they talked about school, their memories, and the lives waiting just ahead.
After wandering around town for about half an hour, the boys came across a pub called The Workmanâs. A chalkboard outside advertised cheap drinks and tempting offers. It was too good to pass up. As they stepped inside, it was immediately clear they didnât quite fit in. The place was packed with young lads in sportswear, grime and rap blasted from the speakers, and a football match played loudly on a big screen. For a moment, the chatter dipped, and eyes turned their way.
It was intimidating, but still, Barry, Finley, and Ethan werenât easily put off. They made their way to the bar. The barman was a gruff-looking man in his forties, wearing a worn baseball cap low over his eyes. He gave them a sideways glance before grunting, âAlright lads, what can I get ya?â
âThree pints, please,â Barry said.
The barman pointed at a tap labelled Workmanâs Brew. âThis oneâs on offer - half price.â
The lads exchanged a shrug. âYeah, whatever,â Barry replied. The barman poured the drinks with a smirk, took their cash, and handed over the pints, still grinning like he was in on some private joke. A little thrown by his expression and the continuing stares, the lads turned from the bar, trying not to look like they noticed everyone watching them. Still feeling out of place, they took a sip. The beer was cold and fizzy, but it wasnât like anything they had tasted before. It left a warm, tingling sensation as it slid down their throats and settled in their stomachs. Almost instantly, the tension melted away. The other drinkers seemed friendlier now, offering nods and brief smiles. It felt⊠welcoming. They finished their pints quickly. The place wasnât so bad, after all - actually, it was kind of brilliant. Feeling looser, lighter, and up for more, they went back to the bar.
âAlright mate, another three Workmanâs, innit?â Finley said, his voice now tinged with a different accent.
They started in on their second round with ease, but something strange was happening. Without noticing, their clothes had started to shift, and their once messy hairstyles were now buzzed short. Even their faces seemed rougher, almost unrecognisable. Barry laughed, looking at his mates. âFucking hell, like⊠yous look proper chavvy, innit!â
Finley and Ethan burst out laughing. âChaaaavvy!â they shouted in unison.
It had barely been thirty minutes, but already they felt like regulars. One of the lads from a nearby table waved them over, inviting them to join in. The conversation was all about the banter and hassle of working on a building site. Barry, Finley, and Ethan had never held a job, but somehow, they understood every word, like they had been there themselves.
The drinks kept flowing. Pint after pint of Workmanâs Brew went down easy. Talk of university, exams, and futures was forgotten. They were deep in debates about football, telling jokes, throwing banter back and forth with their new mates.
Before they knew it, the clock hit midnight. Closing time. They looked at one another - no memory of the day before, no thought of who they had been. Just a shared understanding that they had to be up early. Site started at seven, after all. So, they made their way back home to the council estate they had grown up on together and still lived in.
Here were the lads, just a week later.
Barry, on the left, was now just Baz. He was rarely seen without his knock-off Moncler coat and a vape glued to his hand. His accent had thickened to the point where you would wonder if he had ever set foot in a classroom.
Finley in the middle - now Fin - fully embracing the builder banter lifestyle. The colour-coded planner and highlighters were long gone. In their place were now a cracked iPhone permanently playing TikToks and endless attempts to master the art of rolling a ciggie one-handed or yelling âOI OI!â at girls from across the road like it was a sport.
And Ethan - now just Eth - on the right was the one who had transformed the furthest. He was shirtless all the time on site, his gold chain caught the sun as he strolled around site like he owned it. A half-finished lion tattoo roared across his chest, and he spoke in slang so thick you would need subtitles to keep up. If he wasnât puffing on a joint, it was only because he was rolling the next one.
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This story is based on a story originally posted by @scallylad89 on Tumblr. I have changed quite a lot about the original story though.
