Mes Amis
Ah, fuck... People are finding their way here... people who know who I am (unless its just a coincidence and they don't realise...)... I almost thought I could get away with it too... Just post and slink away... And I would have if it hadn't been for those meddling kids...
Loud Neighbours... I currently have the Quireboys jacked up to top volume. I don't care if it pisses off my downstairs neighbour (A professional hypnotist - look into my eyes, not around my eyes...) because I have to do something to block out the squeals from above... earlier, crooner boy was singing some of Frankie's greatest hits... and now, well, the girlfriend's come home... how do I know? She's Leslie fucking Garret or something. When she hits orgasm, all my wine glasses shatter. "Oh, that's it, that's the stuff, Stuff it in my Traviata" and so forth... They must know we can hear them...
Any More Morons? Its an old one, this, but since other people aside from Becs must be popping through I figure you might like this thicko customer who came in (she was around eighteen and wore sixteen inches of makeup and earrings that would have made Pat from Eastenders proud) and came up to the desk, leaning over conspiratorially. "Have ye got this, ken, like, this book, like," she says. I figure its best to wait at this point, see if she has one in mind. "Aye, ken, so its like about these fuckin' virginities, like, and they commit suicide..." Its enough to make you weep - - she was one of the more lucid ones.
Go away... Since he popped by and said hello, I'll reccomend Ray Banks' website-cum-blog, The Saturday Boy. He's a bloody brilliant writer, by the way whose book The Big Blind should be available from all book shops and if it isn't, go to the publishers and order one. He doesn't like pimping himself, so he says, so we'll do it here for him.
Anyway, till nest time, mes amis (whoever you are and however you got here)
Au Revoir
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