They came in swarms, Republicans and Loyalists, wearing balaclavas, stockings, and hoods to hide their identity. They threw bricks and bottles at the police, and each other, and lit fires mere metres away from residential houses.
'Fuck the Queen' on youth said, 'Hang the bastards.'
'Get outta here you rebel bastards.' A young loyalist said, throwing a brick.
The policeman closest to the group of youths swung his truncheon, cracking one of them on the back of the head. 'Get home lads, it's past curfew for you lot.' He said.
'Fuck the curfew,' a young rebel said 'you're just trying to keep us opressed, fuck you mister.'
'I'll tell your ma, you little brat, get going.'
'My mam thinks your a tosser anyways.'
The loyalist youths mocked the young Rebels as they sauntered off down the road. One of the rebels, about 14, turned and threw a bottle at the policeman. It hit him and he turned around, sticking his fingers up, triumphant.
The crowd dispersed as quickly as it appeared, and that was that. All quiet on the North Eastern front once again.