of guv kids and men

Many years ago in the dulcet Spring of 1991.
An innocent abroad.
I'm an Irish teenager wandering in the morning of the world down the London thoroughfare known as Picadilly Circus.
I'm with teenage versions of my brother Barn and cousin Vincent, neither of whom were ever innocent.
Barn turns to a street vendor and buys a newspaper.
The newspaper seller hands him his change and says: "Thanks Guv Kid."
Guv Kid?
Guv is short for Guvnor and is derived from the standard English word Governor.
I suppose he means the brother looks classy.
It's true that in this period of our youth, Barn has a certain sense of style.
Whenever he wins half my wages off me at Poker, he goes out and buys a Crombie coat and a few Matinique jumpers to add to his collection.
Vinnie who regularly wins the other half of my wages has no dress sense and will never be referred to as the Guv Kid by anyone. He spends my wages on purchasing racing greyhounds.
I kid you not.
But what a great phrase.
Guv Kid.
Even then I was thrilled by the cadence of it
Resonant and redolent of an older London glimmering in the shadows behind modernity.
I'm convinced that when the Messiah returns to the metropolis of Great Britain, the newspaper sellers of London will refer to him as the God Guv.