Tuesday, 13 December 2016

Pizzatramp inspired hardcore song lyrics x


Tuesday, 22 November 2016

Waterloo Screwdriver gig protest

I remember when i was young, us Medallions used to love all the protests happening in London. To be honest, we were only going for the scraps they entailed rather than what the protest actually stood for but we always made an effort. There were the Poll Tax riots, the Criminal Justice Act mash up on PArk Lane. We always made an effort to go on the Anti Nazi LEague Rallies. We liked having fights with Nazi's but mainly we just liked fighting coz it was fun and we were young and it was stupid and anyway, it wasn't actually real fighting. Life was all a game.
I remember being at Waterloo station one time to stop a Screwdriver gig from happening at a secret location in London. The Screwdriver meet was at Waterloo so we all showed up and threw glasses at some boneheads who cowered by the ticket booths, glass smashing above their heads. They were massively outnumbered and i i have to admit, i did feel pangs of sympathy on a purely human level. No one got really hurt but they just looked so pathetic all dolled up in their NF regalia. It was like they couldn't understand why folk were hating on them. Silly boys.
Anyway, it turned out that most people there that day were also just like our group. Thrill seekers really. And cowards. But i'll get onto that. I remember a man being beaten up just because he had short hair and his Indian friend screaming at the attackers that he was with them. It was horrible. We all ended up running around like headless chickens. At one stage i remember crossing the rail tracks just outside Waterloo (one of my reoccurring nightmares). I dunno who we were running from. It was all charging about but i didn't really see much action.
The police ended up "kettling" us up under a bridge whilst the main body of skin heads (who magically appeared shortly after) were then led to safety across Waterloo bridge and then onto their gig.
Afterwards folk seemed to congregate towards Jubilee Gardens. Dunno how many of us, a couple hundred maybe. An element of fear and suspicion had entered the mind of the pack. Folk with short hair (me included with a shaved head) quickly found hats to wear. There was a lot of unspent adrenalin going around.
And then check this, The Naziest of Nazi skins i had ever seen, this lone guy with the swagger of Leon Gallagher enters Jubillee Gardens and into our throng. Held held high and he was walzing about everyone. It was hilarious. No one went near him. I'd just watched this group beating up innocent people and here was a guys seriously fronting out a crowd of hundreds. I'll never forget it. It was almost magical. Humans are cowards. All it would have taken was one person to ignite the spark and then he would have got a paste but no one went near. I think that was the last Anti Nazi League rally we went on.
20 years on and we have a real enemy. The far Right are on our fucking doorsteps. For real. I have to say that my fists are twitching.This feels like war. Horrible.

Friday, 7 October 2016

Memoirs of a loser - My new book about life

I felt inspired to start writing again.

If I was to write a new book, it would be full of sex and violence. It would be pornography. I would tell my tale through cunt and lust and violence and depravity. I'd want folk wanking to it. I'd try to sensationalise even the shit boring stuff. I'd want brutal honesty. I'd wanna read stuff that I personally wouldn't publically voice. Deep, dark, dirty secrets.
Public toilets as a youth, promises of sex and cock sucking written on the back of toilet doors, porn mags in bins, in woods, in partially buried carrier bags.
Sex. Youth for me was about sex. Ain't it for everyone. The smell of long bulldozed public toilets in the park. The nostalgic disinfectant. And you're 8 again, wanking in the cubicle wondering what cock sucking meant. The drawings on the wall.
Literally unimaginable how a cock could ever fit up your asshole. Children. We were children and we were innocent but we were all dirty and excited about fucking and what it meant. Fingers on pussies and assholes and tiny erect cocks as we played with each other. The sharp vinegar smell of crevices and dirt and piss and shit as we lay on each other and pressed our naked bodies together. Too young to even put our clothes on properly after.
What is interesting? Is poetic writing worthy of your attention. Why would I wanna read your flowery crap.
Sipping the head off a fresh pint of Harp lager from my dad's knee? One of my earliest and happy memories. My first taste of booze, that bitter frothy delight that now hasn't passed this alcoholic's lips for 17 years? Making my dad proud. That his son had a taste for beer.
That tumbler of clear brown liquid. Forced to sip. That burned my throat and made me cry.Whisky. My dad's bullying laugh. Kicking my feet from underneath me when I tried to get at him. I can still feel the thud as my knees repeatedly hit the floor. My rage, screams and frustration growing at every failed assault.
Never being taught to punch. And all the daily wrestling fights with my brother proved an absolute failure when the cry baby next door punched me smack in the nose. Why didn't you teach me dad? You were never there. Golf and massage. That was where he was. I dread to imagine what "massage" entailed. I didn't miss my dad. There was nothing to miss. But he definitely screwed me up. Don't we all just want our dad's approval at the end of the day.

The first time I wept over my alcoholism eh. When was that.
I point blank can't remember my late teens. At 16 I worked in soho as postboy at MCA records. From age maybe 15 to 20,those 5 years are just a blurry haze. I have an pretty good memory though. I can remember my first conscious thought, listening to the b side of Abbey Rd whilst I lay on the settee. I was probably not 3 yet. I have memories of the stinking piss tramp knocking me over in his dirty black mac as a toddler by Norwood junction train station. I remember hiding behind the sofa from the police who'd come to interview my mum about the hatchet murder we'd witnessed outside the doctors. The doctors denying the black kid aid from the axe wound in his head. Him dying on the pavement. I'm serious.The 70's. Those wonderful racist times. Stephen and Rex the 2 black kids down the road, our best friends, our house the only one where they were allowed to come in to play. I didn't know this at the time and never knew racism existed until i moved from South Norwood to West Wickham later on.
Snippets and memories. Looking up at the chrome bumper of a car as it sped towards me. Coming to a halt inches from my face. The man in glasses shouting at my mum. Early memories. Pre school days.
Hospitals, heart murmurs, hearing tests, migraines, night terrors, sleep walking, hallucinations, operations, fear. Fear of another hospital stay. Fear. Childhood is s fearful time.
The skinhead trying to steal my dad's car. My dad jumping on the bonnet and the kid jumping out and running. Me to my dad "I could have easy caught him". Driving through the Brixton riots at the start of the 80's. My dad wanting to see the frontline. Fearless in the presence of this superhero. Faith in our parents. Our keepers from danger.

Shall we talk about circumcision? Dr Southcott, small hospital in Croydon, closed brown curtains, the suns rays making it through the cracks. How old? 3 maybe? Me and my brother, done at the same time. Who's foreskin was too tight? i think mine but my dad figured he'd do us a favour and get both his boys done. That's right, we'd thank him one day, be grateful. Bullshit. Didn't see him getting his cock mutilated for the sake of it. He made us different. He made us roundheads. Roundheads verses Cavaliers. Said it was common. Not in our schools. Only the freaks were circumcised. The Jews, the bullied, the small, the socially awkward. Snip snip. My first taste of surgery. The pink liquid drunk before the knife that made your mouth bone dry. Too dry to swallow. The beginning of my life of panic attacks. Me and my brother in the bath afterwards. Soaking the scabs off of our kid dicks to help remove the gauze. Later on showing my erect cock to Ginny by a freshly creosoted fence. "Why is your willy all stiff?" she asked after showing me her fanny round by the garages? "i've been circumcised" i told her."I've had an operation.This is what happens now".The smell of creosote always takes me back to sunshine in Howard road, 40 years ago, my dick pointing towards the sky.

These days, man, i love my cock. I name him, he's my friend and i wouldn't change him for shit but fuck man, life would have been a lot easier without having that procedure. I would never circumcise my kids for non medical reasons.

What is there to tell of school? Nothing. Nothing of interest or relevant.i moved from a poor area where my friends were indian or Jamaican to a rich area where there were only white kids. And this little weed was suddenly the rough kid. Amazing.
Any talents I had were quickly admonished and I was  molded into the average kid. There is nothing remotely exciting to tell of school. No fucking, no fingering. Just fear and institution. Secondary school was all boys, maroon blazers and rugby. It was absolutely fucking terrible.
I was fucked for my exams though.Is that vagueley of interest? First year of GCSE's. We were the guinea pigs. I sucked on lighter gas (don't shake the can, you'll freeze your lungs) and downed pints of white wine and mugs of whisky round MArk Conlons house before hand, my feet then feeling soaking wet as i sat in the silence of the exam hall.Why didn't they smell the alcohol coming from us? Mark was my best mate at school. We'd spend our lessons drawing roller coasters and comic strips of our favourite TV show Chocky instead of doing proper work. I never lifted a book to revise, i never did my homework.Registrations were spent copying from other peoples books.I still dream about copying homework. Nothing inspired me from those shitty school buildings. Fucking drivel was school.The shit they taught, the way they spoke to us. They hated us those teachers. The nurturing beautiful professionals i see today are a far cry from the jaded, sadistic failures of the 80's.

Mel and Kim's respectable is playing on the stereo. I am 14 and at a real party with girls. I'd got in with the bad crowd. Well actually, they'd got in with me. I was the cool skater who the bad kids wanted in with.
Real girls! Real parties, real teenage stuff.
Those days, those amazing halcyon days of possibility.
And I'm the cool kid again. Yeah, school I am just a face in the crowd,but outside, now I am a person. I can skate and I am interesting. This is bullshit. Nothing happened at this party. I had to be home by 11. I pretended I was more drunk than I was. A girl called Jessica made me black coffee coz that is what you do. I drank creme de menth. I walked home in the summer twilight feeling very happy. I had lain my head on a girls shoulder. That will do me.

Considering how sex was such a big part of my childhood, my teenage years were pretty fucking barren.
How I hated being circumcised. I was different. Different to my dad, different to the other boys at school.
And the circumcised kid got shit. I truly believe that teachers in the 70's and 80's were sadists. Games teachers I believe were peodofiles. The satisfaction on their faces as they stood watching us in the showers. I'd stand there, shielding my child's cock from the watchful eyes of these cunts. Pupils and teachers. Guarding my circumcised secret.
I was incomplete, a target and despised by all of humanity. I was a fake Jew.
Like fuck were any ladies getting near. Kissing lead to fingering. Fingering to getting wanked off. No fucking way was that happening. I was a late developer anyway. By the time I hit puberty I was so drunk anyway that I don't remember developing a mans cock.

Are early fumblings worth a mention? For nostalgia's sake? Nicky by the oak tree - first tits (34b), Sofie my brother's friend's younger sister - first love bite I received. Fiona - first pussy I felt, fingered, sucked (she 15,me 16). Nothing exciting. I remember Fiona's cunt. It was perfect. Everything fell into place. The way my fingers slipped inside her, the smell. Fuck that beautiful smell. The smell of sex. Everything I ever imagined it to be and more. I explored that pussy for hours. It didn't do anything, I didn't have a fucking clue. But I found that clit and I found her vagina and I found her asshole. I had a good explore.
"Don't you want me to do anything to you?"
No fucking way. I was so scared of exposing my circumcised secret that this prevented any personal physical arousal. I remember her toe lightly brushing my groin. That was as close as she got.

I lost my virginity to a bloody hole. I didn't choose to. Fuck man, my poor girlfriend must have been so frustrated.
Lucky for me, my head giving technique of constant all over cunt sucking seemed to work a treat with Kathy and I was able to deflect her from my tiny cock for ages. My tiny circumcised cock. I hadn't a clue. I was lead to believe that the average cock size was 8 inches. AVERAGE. obviously my all boys school was made up of porn dongs. Easy to laugh now but as a teenage boy, size is everything. 8 inches for your information isn't average. Those are porn dongs. Average dick size is more like 5 and a half.
Anyway, faced with the prospect of Jew dick discovery, my poor young boy would shrivel and I kept my frightened pecker way out of kathy's reach. For 2 fucking months!
One night I was drunker than usual. Somehow she managed to get her mouth round my cock whilst I was falling asleep. I came instantly without the slightest erection. I think I may have pulled her mouth from me without her realising I'd come. She had no idea I was a virgin.
I remember the warmth of her mouth. Incredible. This was huge for me. Someone had got near.
I guess she'd given up waiting. The next night.....
The next night she pounced. I lay back and let it happen. I was resigned to the fact that i was a freak and that it would be awful, that she would leave me, this pathetic small cocked circumcised child. She removed her tampon and climbed on, thumbed my limp cock into her. I smelled the blood, could taste it in the hot air around us. I came instantly without the slightest erection.
The world changed. In that secret embarrassed silence i became a man. I was no longer a virgin. I was 18. She was cool, we cuddled up and i feigned sleep. Laying there, ashamed,wishing my pumping heart wouldn't betray me.
The sun rose on a new day in North London. A Sunday in Southgate. The sun rose on a new man. A man with a massive fucking erection. I fucked her for the entire day. Again and again. I made up for lost time. Doggy, her on top, sideways, on the stairs, in the bathroom, every fucking which way possible. She marvelled at my proud circumcised cock. She took my shaft in both hands and told me i had quite a big one. Why hadn't i wanted to fuck her previously? I told her i liked to wait, that sex wasn't important to me. Like fuck. Sex was the most important thing ever. Always had been. All i'd ever wanted to do was fuck. She had me. She totally fucking had me. She had no idea i had been a virgin. We fucked until her cunt was raw and my balls ached.
I never used a condom, i always withdrew. I loved that woman. She was older than me and i fucked her and she made me feel like i was a man.

So writing this on my phone brings benefits. If i feel uncomfortable knowing that the person sitting next to me is covertly reading my words then i guess i'm onto a good thing. Uncomfortable sharing private things, the embarrassing, the depraved, the illegal. So i'll slow my writing and tilt my phone away to the window and wait for them to lose interest.
Let's get back to my disastrous early years of sex. I was unlucky. So i'd lost my virginity to an older woman. She was 23, i was 18. i was being a grown up, i was fucking a real woman, not a girl. She cooked dinners and we did adult things. She gave me genital warts. Yup, 3 weeks in and the first symptoms started to show on her from her previous partner. But i couldn't possibly catch them, i'd just started fucking! No way was i gonna stop now. I was blinded by love and lust and i didn't actually care. So we switched to condoms whilst she went for treatment at the Turnpike Lane clinic.
They grew on my asshole, a cluster of tiny fucking grape pips. hahahah For fucks sake. I was 18, i'd been terrified of intimacy all my teenage years and now i'd caught my first STD. Brilliant. Of course i didn't tell her. They weren't showing on my cock so i kept it to myself. I trusted the superpowers of love to heal me. They got worse. They were fucking horrible. Finally breaking down i confessed to Kathy. You can imagine the joy of me bending over exposing my fucked up ass to the girl i loved and so desperately wanted to impress. Jesus that was fucking hard hahaha. Treatment began. Bend over Alex, let's cotton bud this nice brown acid stuff onto your ring piece and burn the fuckers off. That kinda killed the vibe right.They were stubborn. My ass was red raw for weeks. I couldn't skate,i was convinced i could smell the burning flesh from inside my trousers. They finally went, they'd come back. I went into denial again and lied to Kathy. You know how i finally got rid of them? Talcum powder. I'd shower my ass clean every time i went to toilet and i'd dust my ring with talc. Like cake my ass in talc. Johnson and Johnson's magic wart cure. Why i decided to do this i dunno. Instinct i guess. Those tiny grape pips started to dry up and fall off. Within a few week they were gone, never to return. Thank fuck for that. I've never heard of this cure elsewhere and i've never spoken of it. Why bring it up now? I promised to dish the dirt didn't i? Warts and all.

Let's talk about Kathy. My first love. Actually let's not. Is there anything to be gleaned from my first relationship.Hmmm let's wander. She was a regular customer at M Zone,the Carnaby Street skateboard shop and Stussy wholesaler which I worked at from the age of 17 - 19. 2 years of the best fun I think I ever had. 2 years that actively indulged my teenage alcoholism and punk rock rebellion. And fuck I was punk. Not punk in the political sense that it means to me now but the fucked up carnage of skateboarding and parties.
How did I end up at M zone. Ok let's back track a couple of years. Let's go back to my final year at school and those exams I hadn't worked for. I hadn't a clue what I was doing back then. I spose I'd signed up for A levels someway through the year but they were obviously dependent on my exam results. The exams I'd just sat, hadn't revised for and hadn't expected to pass.
I do remember sitting in my living room with a dressing gown on, hungover and sick, not yet 16 when my mum came in with the envelope from the exam people. We weren't expecting good results and I remember mum telling me it didn't matter. I told her to open it, I didn't care.
So it turns out I was kinda clever. Somehow, without doing any work the previous year at school and without opening a book to revise I managed to pass 7 gcse's, A to C grade. So  6th form it was. I had no other plans.
I passed the Summer skating, getting drunk and painting Misfits logos on my new school desert boots. I wore chinos, heavy lumberjack shirts and a donkey jacket.
I'd kept no information as to what A levels I'd put in for the previous term so I turned up for my first day of 6th form (A week after term had started actually) with literally, not a clue what I was doing.The timetables for lessons had long been taken down so i kinda just bumbled into the lessons i fancied. My lack of name on the registers didn't seem to bother the jaded teachers at that school. They just added me to the list and away i went. I ended up in Art History, Ceramics and i think it may have been Geography, none of these had i sat exams for the year before and now i was doing them at A level.
6th form ended up being a huge dissappointment. It wasn't like the freedom of college that i had imagined. I was legally allowed to smoke, get married, have sex, join the army but here it was still all rules and shouting teachers and bullies and bullshit. Even the exposure to girls in lessons (6th form was mixed) wasn't enough to interest me. Outside school i was already known in the London skate scene,one of the best young street skaters around, spending evenings at the Southbank, being introduced to all walks of life, being my own person, at school i was just that quiet kid who kept out of the way.6th form lasted a month. I remember the ceramics teacher Miss Anderson shouting at a pupil that if "he didn't want to be here then he could get out! And that goes to anyone else in here too!" That was my chance. I actually liked the ceramics teacher and didn't want to bullshit her. Up with my hand and out i went, never to return. My school days were over.

I apologize for the last paragraph. Terribly boring wasn't it. Should it even be here? I wrote a piece on the ghostly experiences i'd had last night but then decided not to include it. It was boring too.
Shall we get violent for a bit? Or horny? Ok, let's get violent. So anyway, as mentioned earlier, my dad never taught me and my brother to fight. Why was that? There were very mixed ideas about raising us kids in our house. Mum was just amazing. My saint and protector. Gentle and kind and peaceful. Dad was very angry that he wasn't allowed to beat us black and blue like he'd been beaten as a kid. He was one of 8 kids from a Burmeses family who were regularly whipped and beaten. So like all clever sensible people, just because he was abused, he thought it was his right to beat his kids, and if this was prevented he's just beat the dog. Yup, the man who just "couldn't stand bullying" was a bully.So my mum was super protective of us and apart from the wrestly matches with brother,we never learned to throw a punch.

This led to me getting my head kicked in a few times in my teens without fighting back. I was like a frightened deer in the headlights. Paralized with fear. I couldn't understand why i'd allow the punches to rain down on my head and not fight back.The worst was already happening, if i'd at least tried to fight back, that would have made me feel better but no.I'd just let myself get kicked and punched around.It wasn't as if i was the innocent victim here either. I'd start the fucking trouble hahaha, what an idiot. I'd be all mouth and no trousers and suddenly i'd be getting my head kicked in hahah. I remember being chased by about 6 blokes once. Blokes that had already attacked us with bottles and lumps of wood after us mouthy pissed up skate kids had called them wankers for no real reason other than they were walking through our carpark. We couldn't just leave it. All bravado we went after them again with the name calling. hahaha What pricks we were. Suddenly i had all of them chasing me down a cul de sac. I had at least a 100 metre start on them but i was tired and drunk and dumb so i just hopped down the side path of a house into the shadows to escape into a back garden. Except the gate was locked. I remember in my panic searching for the door handle, scanning my escape route.Hahaha there was none. I turned round and watched as all 6 of them, fully grown men walked up the path to kill me! hahahaha. They literally kicked the shit out of me. I shit my pants. They punched and kicked me to the floor and then all went at me with the stamping. They kicked me through the garden gate. In my haste,in my panic i realised that i couldn't find the handle because it was on the other side to where i was looking.
I crawled up as best i could into a ball and hoped they didn't stab me. It was quite normal for folk to carry knifes then. People always have.After a minute or so of them playing football with me, i heard one say "he's had enough". Thanks Mr. That was very honourable of you. I mean that. I'd started it, i got beat, i got away with bruises. I remember getting up and running into the back garden and hiding in a bush. I put my hand down my pants and pulled out the shit that they'd kicked out of me. Luckilly it wasn't messy. I hid in that bush and listened to the shouting in the street as they beat up my mates. They stole my skateboard but only threw it into a neighbouring garden for me to find the next day.It was a pink Tony Hark board. I liked that one.

So i guess i had a lot of pent up aggression and shame when it came to fighting and being hard. Being hard is a very important part of being a teenager. Being hard and having sex. That is the recipe for successful teen living. I was none of that. I wasn't hard and i wasn't having sex. I was really good at getting drunk and skateboarding though and i was good at pretending to be hard. Once upon a time, one of the Southbank locals came into M Zone after he had been robbed by a group of muggers from West London that sometimes came down to caused shit down under the Royal Festival Hall. They'd been seen around Carnaby st that day so i'd gee'ed everyone up that if they came to the shop, we'd lock them in and torture the fuck out of them (there being a nice big group of us). And they came in!!! So i got all excited and started to lock the doors behind them! What the fuck was i doing? There was a group of them and when they sussed something was up, they bolted through the doors. Out i ran like a hero, independent trucks in each hand as weapons. Along Carnaby street i ran. I was chasing them off! Through a catwalk fashion parade (it was London Fashion Week) and they were running and i was running, brandishing my weapons and then they weren't running and then i turned around and i realised that i was on my own and then suddenly it was me against these hardened West London Hoodlums! Da da daaaaaaa! so we squared off with each other. I was a hard man (well boy).Amazingly, they told me it wasn't I that they were after. Pheeeuwwwwwww! So we stared each other down and we parted and i thanked my lucky stars that no violence had come about.
Until later. I was closing up shop around 6 oclock when the first tap on the window happened. Outside were i'm not shitting you, at least 20 blokes. They were tapping the window with knives and making throat cutting gestures at me. HahahahahahahFuuuuuuuuck!!!! To call the police or not to? I mean it's pretty obvious now but at the time, you didn't call the fucking filth. You were hard. You dealt with this shit.A stand off developed.I was prisoner in my own shop.
Horsey (who later formed The Flying Medallions with me) turned up about an hour later and i let him in. He managed to go out and talk to the people and again, they said it wasn't I who they were after. I'm guessing they were just fronting as well. Oh to be young and stupid and full of shit.I was so scared that night that after they'd all gone, Horsey had to join me on my journey home to Southgate.

So i was still a failure in the fighting department, still a failure in the fucking department.But i knew how to fight.I'd seen much smaller kids winning fights with bigger bullies at school. Size meant nothing. It was all about going fucking psycho. I'd seen the posturing bully squaring up to the small kid, arms raised Queensbury rules style to then see him get his ass kicked as the little guy went all our mental on him. All or nothing.Headbutting, punching, kicking biting.It was all about surprise. Give nothing away, stop at nothing until that fucker is stomped. I knew this.All i needed was an opportunity to inact my rage.Hahaha Tennents Super helped. One thing i've always had was a temper.I am as the doctors labelled me in my childhood, after fits and nightmares and sleepwalking "highly strung". I wish i could muster that temper at will but i can't. When confronted with bullies in the past, i just couldn't tap into that volatile nature in me. Until Tennents. Tennents created a lighter trigger on the fuse of all out fucking batshit.
I was on my way to a party in Wimbledon. I'd just drunk a 2 litre bottle of Tennents Super/Strongbow Super snake bite and i had a plastic carrier bag of 8 tins. The train came to the end of the line District line and i got off. Getting on were this group of about 6 blokes.
"Oi gimme a beer". I looked up and suddenly they are wrenching the bag out of my hands. No warning, just taking. I hadn't a chance to think.I made a surprised effort to pull back and the next thing i know the beers are rolling over the platform. They start picking em up, like nothing is happening, like they aint nicking my beer and they walk onto the tube laughing. I remember seeing them walking through the doors and laughing. And i just fucking saw red. I went fucking mental. All i knew were there were a group of wankers infront of me and i went for there faces. I fucking steammed em. Ran in, punching shit out of their heads, just fucking crazy. Relentless punching, as fast as i could. I didn't choose this, this was my temper finally allowed to do justice for all the other times i'd allowed people to walk over me. And they proper didn't expect it. I almost got cocking. As soon as i allowed that millisecond of time to start being more accurate with my punches, they had surrounded me and they were punching back. Fuuuuuuck. Ding ding ding went me head as punches came from all angles. But fuck man, this was freedom.I was rucking and it was instinct and i loved it.
Until i heard the noise for the doors to close. Totally cliched but this is the truth, time slowed down.I knew if i got stuck on that tube i was fucked. With some crazy psycho effort i managed to punch my way up and out of the circle and dive out of the doors just as they closed. I wasn't scared. I was buzzing. I loved it. I went back to the now closed tube doors and laughed at em. Laughed and called em all wankers.Give em the wanker sign with my hand. they were proper screwing. I had done them cunts. I blew them kisses as the train drew off.
There were 2 guys over from Belfast (at the height of the troubles) with me on that occasion walking ahead when this happened. I felt so proud as they congratulated me on my fighting prowess, reenactive my assault to friends when we got to the party where i promptly fell straight asleep.
I felt so liberated. So many times i'd ran or taken a punch. I'd broken the ice.Now i could fight. I learned a very important lesson in fighting a few months later. Back to that same Bejams carpark Where my first proper kicking had been instigated a few years before.
Drunk as usual and on my skateboard, i rolled up to find a group of "casuals" having a muck about fight with each other (Casuals would be renamed as "chavs" later in the 2000's.) As i rolled passed, this guy jumped back to avoid a karate kick from his mate and bumped into me.I put my arm out to steady him. He offered me out."Come on then you cunt!" All the old fear came creeping back. I was the bullied little boy again as i skated away and sat on the wall,and infront of my peers and the younger skaters. I remember sitting there feeling like a cunt. The younger skaters were all watching, waiting to see if i would allow this outrage.i sat there mulling it over for 5 minutes. Obviously i wasn't gonna do a thing so these casuals got on with fighting each other. I got up and started skating the famous Bejams curb. Did a few grinds, cruised around, watched the guy from a safe distance. I made up my mind. This was premeditated violence. This wasn't me losing my temper. I did a few more laps of the carpark and then on my return past the guy, i flipped my board up into my hand and smashed it over his head. He didn't go down. I smashed my board over his head again and this time my board fractured his arm as he protected his head but he still didn't go down. Fuuuuuck. "Go fuuuuucking down" i screamed as i contined to batter him round the carpark. But he wouldn't.He was screaming at his mates to give him a skateboard. I screamed back at them' "Don't give him a fucking skateboard"!!!! Again and again i hit him about his head and shoulders and the meathead wouldn't submit, wouldn't go down. It was awful. I must have hit him 50 times. In the end i went up to him, almost pleading and asked if he was gonna go down. I was spent."No" was his answer. "Oh" i said."Well i'm sorry about this.You shouldn't have offered me out. If i put my board down are you going to retaliate?" He looked confused how this nutcase was now talking to him pleasantly, apologising for the damage i'd just inflicted. I took this as my cue and got the fuck out of there. It was the worst but a vital lesson was learned. If you are going to attack someone with a weapon then you have to be prepared to kill that person.That weren't me. I saw him about 4 weeks later with a cast on his arm. He wouldn't look me in the face.

I just spoke to my wife Aoife. Aren't you going to write about any happy things she said.I will, but you can't just switch it on.I can't force my writing. I always wanted to write about the previous encounters. To show that yes, i am hard, yes, i can fight, yes, i will damage you if you fuck with me hard enough. But to be honest, that aint true. I'm sober now. Now i choose my destiny.All the fucked up situations in my life would have been avoided if i hadn't been drunk. How can you choose to bludgen someone when sober. The repercussions are too much. You go to prison for these things.You get a violent conviction and world travel goes straight out the window. Let's be sensible here. Who wants to be stuck on this shitty fucked up island called the UK. I haven't had a fight in 17 years. I've seen situations occuring and i've walked away. I used to be in casualty every weekend when i was drinking. They knew me by name in Bromley Xray. I was a mess. I'm very happy to have left that past behind.

Tuesday, 12 April 2016

As the rest of the world sleeps a war rages

3 am
as we lay in the black
and our minds tick over
a war rages
rushing waters and rusty ships
hulk wrecks and groaning fog horn
looming from the mist
your consciousness
that tortured place
behind closed eyes
at 3am tonight
this still
secret time of regrets and
ear ringing silence
tick tock
that 6am alarm so far away
and you know you'll be broken by then
and finally asleep

My new safe place

across the sand
the sun and wind and sea
rise up and hail my princess
facing me
your freckles new and eyes a greeny blue
my new safe place
my wedding day
a pledge to the heavens
permission for the gods of old to join us
holding hands
a promise to your dad
that i will keep his girl safe
travelling through space to find him
a happy man
my safe place
our wedding day
sun bright on your face
and ocean spray salutes
true joy
my new safe place

Wednesday, 23 March 2016

Pain killers for fellow alcoholics. A WARNING

Painkillers are big news in my life. I love them and i hate them. There are 2 types of pain killers in my life, Anti imflammatory and narcotic. There are 2 times of pain in my life, every day pain and crippling pain.
My back is fucked. My bottom 2 vertibrae are split and crushed (through years of bricklaying/building work) and there's nothing i can do that will repair them. They are permanently fucked. I do daily physio exercises though that strengthens my core which protects those vertibrae and this really helps me live life without any painkillers.
When my back goes, the muscles around my damaged spine go into spasm.They lock and shreek and render me crippled. If you are fortunate, you can go to bed for 2- 3 weeks and those muscles will unlock and whatever shit you've done to irritate your spine will calm down. Unfortunately most builders aren't in this position. This is where painkillers come in because your daily exercises are now impossible. Normal painkillers (your paracetamols, nurofens and the stronger diclofenics and naproxins) don't work on a back locked in spasm). You need the good shit, our friends codiene and tramadol mixed with the stronger anti imflammatories Naproxine or diclofenic.
When you are weak from pain and at breaking point, the relief is delicious. You feel the warmth envelope you, suddenly you are loosening up and mobility returns.Suddenly you are singing again.You can feel heat in your lower lumber that you know isn't a good sign but you are working. They work and if you have to finish that job they are a godsend.
The problems begin if you are an alcoholic/addict and this is why i am writing this piece. If you are an alcoholic, you are an addict. Unless you take on a life of complete sobriety then you'll simply replace alcohol with another drug (that drug may be less destructive than booze, such as weed but you'll still be a slave to that drug). You are an addict, face it.
It's funny, in all my years of sobriety, i was never warned about painkillers. I actually find this hard to believe, but as i was never an AA convert, i wasn't really hanging out with other addicts to heed the warnings.
We are talikng codiene based products available from over the counter such as Nurofen plus, co codemol, Solpadene etc and then prescription based stronger codiene pills Solpadol (stronger co codemol) and the synthetic codiene,Tramadol.

Ok so here's how my addiction to painkillers began.

It starts subtle and you won't even realise. So the first time i took Solpadene/co codamol (available from behind the counter) i didn't even see this as a problem. It didn't get me high, it helped with my aches and pains and it raised absolutely no warning bells regards the fact i am an alcoholic/addict. This was at the start of my back injury before it had become a real problem. Looking back, i remember my mum saying i was addicted to the stuff but because i got no pleasure from it, it didn't compute.
The warning bells started to ring however after i got my first taste of proper pain medication. My back was locked and i had to travel in the back of a van, horizontal on my back, to a wedding. I took some of my dad's Tramadol/ Dromadol. Bam, i was high. Like seriously high and at bliss in the back of the van. Whoops. But hey, i was injured, this was allowed. And what a treat those pills were. I'd been completely mind numbingly sober for about a decade and suddenly, release. What is interesting here is that i had taken valium (prescribed by a doctor for my fear of flying) a few times previously but this never effected my sobriety. The addiction in me wasn't stoked on these occasions. When i took that tramadol, i wasn't looking to get high, i was looking for pain relief. BUT, my addiction clicked into place. All that low strength codiene bought over the counter, suddenly got linked to the Dromadol. BAM! This shit can get you high.
And i guess, once you've been high from opiates, you notice the subtle high previously undetected. Something changed.
I didn't suddenly become a raging pill popping addict. Like all addiction, it's a progressing illness, It's gets worse over time.
Ok, so the easiest way to progress with this piece is just to tell you how my life went from here and goes these days. Are painkillers a problem in my life? This is how it used to go.

Let's start sober.I am working, my back is behaving,i am doing daily physio, i am clear of head and my life is sweet. I am not suffering from depression. I am happy.
I feel my back starting to go. But i am in the middle of a job so i start taking regular nurofen/paracetamol.
The job progresses and the pain gets worse. It starts to wear me out.I start thinking about codiene. i make it home.
Wake next morning and the back has gone. It is in spasm. Physio is not an option, taking the day off is not an option. You go to the chemist. Actually, you go to 2 chemists. 1 for the Solpadene and another for the Nurofen plus (chemists can't sell you both. This i called the magic mix and it will get you through a few more days of graft.The magic mix helps but it doesn't stop the pain.You're counting down the 4 hourly intervals between mixes.
You go to the doctors and you get stronger painkillers. These work.You are able to work.You are able to get by.
So what happens next? Well obviously you are fucking your back up by working but now you have the means to continue. You get repeat prescriptions (coz you've just gotta work haven't you?)and your tolerance to the pills goes up (just like your tolerance to all drugs go up). You are now mixing your tramadol with shop bought magic mix, you are also completely fucking bonkers moody.
Being in the building game, you have access to plenty of other painkillers from other builders. You'll never turn down the opportunity for pain relief so you'll greatly accept the offer of the odd box of Oxy Codone, valium, codiene or more tramadol. Your fellow builders are not addicts and they do not know that you are an addict (or wouldn't understand the danger they are putting you in)so they are happy to give you their old painkillers.
A year goes by and suddenly you are a crazed pill popping monster who somehow always manages to get hold of pills. Your back is still fucked so this is justified. You are eating 12 pills at a go,every 4 hours, 4 Tram,4 codiene, 4 valiums and you are bonkers. You are essentially a junky.
You also realise that your back doesn't hurt anymore. You've been aware of this now for a while but decided to ignore it.
You are extremely irritable and moody and bonkers.
You decide to go sober.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH Enjoy the ride. Coming off of presciption painkillers will be the hardest thing (physically) you have had to do. It is undescribable unless you've done it and totally different to coming off off alcohol. You now understand all the films you've watched on junk addiction but i suspect this is worse. This is my account of coming off pills.
I guess i am lucky to have an understanding of addiction being an ex alcoholic so when i decided to get clean, i meant it. I wasn't kidding myself, i really wanted this.I was serious. I chose New years day.


Day 1 is the easiest. The week before you've been going at it hammer and tongs coz you know that it's coming to an end. Day 1 you are still high. This doesn't stop you from being insane.Wound up like a spring. You loose it in a queue buying croisants from a posh bakery in Muswell Hill and threaten to kill the miserable man working on New Years day. You go home. It isn't too bad.You are confident.

Day 2

The ants arrive. The ants first turn up in your gut but quickly spread to your balls. You find yourself scratching and wriggling. The ants are cunts. You can't relax. Now remember that you are an alcoholic so drinking to placate the ants isn't an option. You have to just let them ants wriggle around inside your flesh. They don't let you sleep.

Day 3

You start puking and this feels like you're getting somewhere.Then you start shitting and you start getting weak. Of course you can't eat, of course you can sleep, the ants won't allow this. they are now having fun building their nests in your legs.

Day 4

The groans on the carpet. Hahaha This is a good one. You are broken, you are weeping, you are tired, you are sick, you are dirty. So you moan. This is great, You lie on your landing floor at the top of the stairs in your swaety pants and your moan. You turn on your back and you moan, then you weep hahahaha. There is nothing else you can do. You haven't slept for 4 days.

Day 5

The malaise. The malaise is a great day because up until this moment in your life, you've never understood what it means. It means this, you are NEVER getting better. You feel no better than yesterday.You may as well die.

Day 6
The fear. The fear is hilarious because the malaise of yesterday hasn't abated. You are NEVER getting better. You may have slept the odd hour in the last week but nothing has really changed. You are still in your pants on the carpet at the top of the stairs. So you pull yourself up and venture to the living room where you sit on the sofa. Suddenly you realise that you are seriously feeling suicidal.Like seriously,And it's a really scary feeling. Weeping and groaning you pick yourself up and put some loose ill fitting clothes on. You have to get out. You have to be with people. You go to the building site where you were supposed to be all week because if you don't, you might kill yourself. The usual 30 minute journey takes a ridiculous 2 hours because walking is really fucking difficult (ones legs are awfully wobbly you know). You've spoken to your understanding boss (who knows your history) and he's expecting you. your boss opens the door to you.When he goes to give you a hug you burst into tears. This makes the other builders feel awkard which is quite funny. You sit in your ill fitting clothes on a scaffold board an offer to make the men on site a cup of tea.This takes you about an hour and after the mountainous effort you realise you have to go otherwise you will die. The ants never stop annoying you and the malaise won't let up. You shuffle off weeping whilst your fellow builders look awkward. The 10 minute walk to the train station takes an hour. You get home and lie in your pants at the top of the stairs again for EVER.

Day 7

The fear again. You aren't puking, you aren't shitting and the ants have stopped building new nests. But the world is BLACK. You have a little groan and a little weep but your tears stopped bothering to flow about 3 days ago. You can't believe this MALAISE. How can you even feel like this? Why isn't it getting better. It just isn't ever getting better. You start to get scared and think you are going to kill yourself. Well you don't think you will, you just start imagining you hanging from a rafter or you jumping infront of a train and then suddenly that idea doesn't actually seem that bad and then you get scared again and realise you have to be with people. You make the 2 hours (30 min) journey back to the building site. You sit in a cold dusty room. You don't speak or anything, you just need to be with people incase you decide to kill yourself. When you realise you are making the builders feel uncomfortable you shuffle off home to groan and weep and hang on but then on the bus, you suddenly realise you are GOD! You look out of the dirty window, out over the tracks at Kentish Town and you realise you are a GOD!! The air is literally sparkling around you. You see stars.Your brain explodes.The malaise has abated. You frantically scribble the answers to life on your phone. On that 24 minute bus ride you write 10 songs. You are more dangerously insane than you have ever been. In this moment of you the supreme being you recognise that you could be feeling what a bi polar person feels when they have an episode. Your god like status blissfully last about 30 mins then you plunge into blackness.

Day 8

proactive day. This can't continue, you don't feel better. You manage to eat some marmite on toast and get into that fucking hot awful bath. The water burns your flesh off and every bone in your body aches. Oh yeah, i forgot somewhere in the last 6 days, your body was set on fire. You back injury burns, your knees burn, your elbows, ankles burn. Your injuries of old are all ablaze. You remember this is why you took painkillers in the first place. This brings on a great malaise again. You sit weeping with your purple green knees pressed against each other in the water. You feel so weak you can't bare it. You NEED to sleep so you download a relaxation tape on your laptop. You listen to the relaxation tape in the darkness, lierally praying that it will work, literally holding onto that stupid voice for dear life. I am not fucking with you. That relaxation tape becomes your life, your world.You hang onto it with you whole being.Focusing, praying. It tells you to find a safe place. You are pleased that your safe place in this desperate hour of need is your partner lying next to you, the time when you first met her. This comforts you. You don't sleep but you hang on. It's morning again and you are in your pants at the top of the stairs groaning gentle.

And then

Repeat this scenario for about 3 weeks. It is a very slow process. You heal very slowly. You go to work because you have to try. You are weak but it does you a world of good even completing the smallest of tasks. Your strength returns but it takes so long that you don't even realise when you are healed. Coming off of pills is the hardest thing i have ever had to do physically.
It is also COMPLETELY different to coming off of alcohol. I'm actually kinda stoked i've managed both.

My relatinship with painkillers is ongoing but i've never let myself go back to where i was. I've accepted that i have to earn a living and sometimes that means the pills again. This time i'm acutely aware on the addiction as it takes hold and i've been able to detox from it before it gets out of control.
The last time my back went i simple said no. I stopped work. I didn't go down the route of pills and within 3 weeks my back was better. A typical back episode previously would last 3 months.

So here's the deal Alki's and addicts, if you are on the wagon, if you have never touched codiene and narcotic painkillers in the past, DON'T GO NEAR THEM!!!! Treat them as you would a lovely can of Stella yeah, you don't pick up. Pill addiction will take you back to where you were and we don't wanna visit them places again do we!

Love you all. I just wanted to share my experience with you so you don't follow in my foot steps! Stay strong, stay sober! x

Tuesday, 22 March 2016

Bicycle etiquette- the laws of the road

I've been riding bikes and skateboards all my life and by the ages of like 8 you kinda understand that those big metals things you share the road with (other vehicles) are bigger than you and go faster than you so you don't fuck with them because they can squash you. Little cars respect vans, vans respect lorries and we all respect horses. We all respect the bigger vehicle. These are more awkward to manoeuvre so they unofficially get right of way. This is called "the laws of the road". The laws that sensible people abide by. You also learn very quickly (by age 8) that you do your best not to fuck with the flow of traffic. This is because people in cars are trying to get somewhere the quickest way possible (cars go faster than bikes for the most part). They don't have time to leisurely cycle to work. Yes, cycling is an efficient way to travel in the city and over short distances but let's be honest here, you cycle because you like to cycle. Builders can't cycle to work, nor delivery drivers because the vehicles they are driving are their work. The vast majority of car drivers do respect you and don't want to run you over.
Cyclists riding 2 abreast (and yes, even at the speed limit) is a blatant self entitled antagonistic piss take. No one likes to be stuck behind a tractor, no one likes to be stuck behind a police car, no one likes to be stuck behind a funeral procession. But these things happen. We have no choice whereas you and your mates in Lycra , chatting 2 abreast (do you even notice that motorcade snaking behind you?) do have a choice. To be a cunt or not to be a cunt. Roads are there to get from a to b. It goes both ways and you 2 abreast riders are actually making people hate cyclists. Sort your lives out, I've heard Segways are all the rage these days. Why don't you go drive off a cliff....

Friday, 4 March 2016

Trolleys thank you lyrics


Disappointed,i hope you are
you should of called
i guess you had better things to do
with whom,i know
Getting angry
you can test me all you want
i used to play the chess game.
not anymore
now days i'm just colder
and i won't mess
what ya see is what you get
and i'm pissed with you.
no more insecurity
you can stoop as low as you wanna go
and i'll hate you
I'll despise you
and i'll worship you
you got my stomach in a grinder
just one postcard email or a phone call
i'm open honest fair
can you say the same things about yourself
don't hang around at the airport
you won't find me at the bar getting drunk
i'll be sleeping on my own
having nightmares i'm your yappy dog
lost with out an owner
where is my partner
you are my spring time


And the love went,
hard to admit that shit coz we were friends
friends forever.

and i let the orange juice
roll down my chin onto my clean white shirt
Orange juice rolls down my chin.
and my girl'll come in drunk
shoot her drunken mouth off
i back down to stop the screaming
coz it's 3 oclock


and the love went
hard to admit that shit coz we were friends
and the love went,and the love went
and the love went
hard to admit that shit coz we were friends friends forever,

you know i gotta go out,
get something for my head
if i keep on doing this i'm gonna end up dead.
Thirsty and miserable
like a black flag song
Thirsty and miserable like Obi Wan
in the desert with the sand people.

Mid 8

hooray another pain in the ass
thorn in my side
player of games just died

and i am here
in hollywood
with all the fakes
and all things shallow and false.

and now i wanna smash things
but it aint my house to break
it's the crack of dawn and seagulls
are keeping me awake.
i'll pull back the curtains
shut out the light again
and i let the orange juice
run down my chin.


be my remedy
lock me up but please don't lose the key
i'm blind to God but he can see me.
Give me excitment
thrill me,fill my life with glee
release me
give me purpose


create me something new to take today
i'm bored and i don't drink no more
i'd like to have ten wifes but i doubt they'd get along

when ya down
drink away and drown the pain
throw away your life again
in the morning.
Take the pills
drug me and rid the soul of a body
and run away
run away.

Learn to live again
adolescence as a man
see the world through eyes as clear as crystal
Yeah it's harsh
to remember how you got this way
but now you're free
remind yourself daily
remind yourself daily

If only you were older, older like me
things just might have worked out satifactory
but what is there to work out if you don't know what is wrong
but know this i loved you
it's always the same, somethings never change
another year has passed,another one that didn't last
another photo for the family
another present round the christmas tree
another one for my old man to walk in on
you naked flesh now burned to memory
but know this o loved you
another one gone and aanother love and i'm lonely so lonely

Not Mine

It's funny, i always wanna read what you have written
and you never wanna see what i have done
and everything i do i do for you for you
i could run away to South America like my friend Dan
could fly to Florida to see my dad
yeah it's been a while and i miss him
and i wish i had a talent like you, maybe i could learn to write, do something with life,
it's far from perfect.
And he plays guitar all day, he'll play the strings away
such a pretty song he plays, why won't he play with me
I'll do my best to dress how you want darling
i'll try to keep my weight down
coz skinny boys like skinny girls and i'm drowning
drinking coffee in bed
watching you play guitar
being in love is so wonderfully painfull it breaks my heart
beautiful bastard, wonderful pain, bruises round my neck, you know what i'm saying

i used to wonder what you wanted from me
i tried to play it cool but i could hardly breath
you were the hottest thing i'd ever seeen
why did you only call me when i was leaving
and that is why Zara i hate you and that is why Zara i can't date you
and that is why Zara i'm lonely
Sexy Sandy got let off the lead
Married way too young now you're having porno fun
i wish that you had told me
My feelings when too far
and now you're taking your clothes off and breathing fire
and that is why Zara .....
Why don't you phone me that would have been nice
Why didn't you call me that would have been nice and that is why i hate you
Now i look for mementos under my bed
last night i found you on the internet
you've give me nothing to love
Yet i love all of nothing.
The perfume on my pillow, the ass everyone's fucking
And that is why....


You never wanted one of my songs, go cheapen someone else,
don't insult me,there can be only one.
They said it wouldn't last, a sober alcoholic farce
they said i was to sensible for Candace and her too drunk for Alex
Her too drunk for me
And i know my music isn't cool enough for you but i'd like to try the tight pants if you'll let me.
Seduced me on a plane, fed me grapes and valium and swapped stories of lovemaking in Paris and it hurt Alex
And it hurt me
I went to Los Angeles expecting to find someone else dancing in your boots
proving me wrong again
Los Angeles, i bet my soul that you were like all of the other girls, proving me wrong again la la la
We'll spend our lives together, move to the country, buy a golden retriever and start a family.Imaginary children us on holidee, granny's moaning in the car whilst mum makes sandwiches in Los angeles...


A scowl across my face, we travel before the successful
we the African princes come Toliet cleaners, we the tired Polish whores,
We the Indian lawyers come security guards
We dissgruntled English forced out of jobs once secure
a big fuck you to a failed schooling 2 decades before
altogther knackered, all together now, we'll walk these roads forever, fucking hell
One day we will be successfull
In fathers eyes a failure, a drunk a fool.One day i'll photograph the tired early in the morn.
One day a bacon sandwich won't seem a luxury, Starbucks an irresponible indultgence to me
and i will return one day to white sheets and clean carpets, i'll return successful to my palace, give a shit a flick crumbs on the floor
one day we will be successful, one day we'll succeed.
I am angry and hateful of the Romanian Christian, coming over here and taking English mens jobs and then he shares his meagre lunch with me and i feel even worse.

i sit in the back of the van, cold limp and damp.This miserable man.
But you don't understand so i speak slowly like an imbecile
Here in the dark, felling the crush here in the dark
as the monsters clammer for my life
Sucking it dry so it's no good for anyone else
no good for anyone.......for me
Am i a robot, a lump of living misery
Whoring my soul for a disshonest buck
With a bit of luck i'll win the lottery
Here in the dark feeling the crush
as the monsters....
Bleeding me dry, bleeding me bleeding me dry....


So dangerous, walking on glass, irresponsible to friends and family
put up with enough to last a lifetime
i like the way i kid myself and jeopardize it all now, well who's the fool now
i just love the way i kid myself, so weak easy to please God help me
i just love the way you tease
Walk away away my friend you're being messed around again
From clouds reality descends like a wrecking ball to batter out your brains, well you're insane and you will pay with your soul
I just love the way the way i kid myself, so weak easy to please god help me, i just love the way you tease
la la la nah na nah
Your shout what ya gonna do now, what ya gonna feel like , fuck like ,taste like, run away run away from the temptation, you aint safe from this relationship coz you're in too deep and you will pay with your soul, pay with your soul
I just love the way....

Wah wah wah wah
I've gone too far, passed that final barrier and i've gotta accept it
We all make choices and we choose the paths we gotta take
that's the way it goes
Protect me from the places i have been
Protect me from the places i have been wah
I need support so carry me you are my strength you are my personal religion.
You are my wine you are my lust you are the drug that i can trust
i'm gonna be a burden
Protect me from the places...
And if i go there i aint coming back, don't think i've got another chance coz i aint stupid and i won't kid myself becaue i've been a fool and i've been selfish and unwise
but if my life had been a movie i would press rewind and play twice
rip out my heart

Show me how, unlock the secrets in your head, show me now, trust me with your nakedness, show me yourself, show me your inside out.
Singing singing at the seaside.You're incredible, your knickers will be down soon.
When i see you smiling i misinterpret something, that you feel the same as me.Render me speechless.
Grant me a wish,i'll want for nothing more.Give me a chance to show you i'm worth it.I'm good enough for you, hold my gaze, look at me you're incredible.Utterly incredible
Singing singing at the seaside....
This infatuation destroys relationships, i don't give a shit.Percy Sledge has said it all before Singing at the seaside
We'll spend our lives together move to the country.Buy a golden retriever, start a family.Singing ....


Write me a script. Smile empathise, look downtrodden, shall i wear the black or the blue.Look at you, who taught you to bow. i'm the queen of the fickle hearted
This is a fact and i'll be exact i guarrantee that i'll be laughing when the ship goes down on you my girl.
i'm the face of compassion.Taught to wipe away the tears, poor dears. Get your kicks from educated officer, colonel, general, pass the suspender belt.Cross dresser, Eton school boy, back seat drivers social climbers.
This is a fact and i'll be exact i guarrantee that i'll be laughing when the ship goes down on you my girl.If you're to drown expect no rubber ring from me.
Bought your ticket to the other side, bought your tickets to the other side....
Get rid of that bitch she looks a bit iffy, where do they teach these people to curtsey.What's that on my rota, not that on my quota, hospital visit, they named it after me.Darkies again most convincing...
Bought your ticket to the other side didn't you
This is a fact and i'll be exact i guarrantee that i'll be laughing when the ship goes down on you my girl. If you're to drown expect no rubber ring from me.


I go running to burn some energy my girl's emigrated and i miss the idle chit chat mundane relationship banter.
I look at the ladies in the street.Once in a while they see me. Can they tell i'm lonely. Maybe i should buy some new clothes coz i'm feeling older now. Try a bit harder to find a more suitable partner.
i'd likek to say there's no reason to be discreet. Let's get it on coz the world cariies on drinking drinking round me.
Bullshit, can't be assed small talk bullshit awkward things to say did you have a nice day. Do i really want to watch you eat, sit like a plum on a cinema seat whilst paying no attention to a movie.What a treat absolutely, thare's no need to be discrret you know what i want let's get it on. this could be fun and i'm fed up of running around balham.


3 sylables like Timbuctoo obvious but mean em.It's time to change the text rewrite an alphabet.Coz i wanna take you to my room i wanna come way too soon, i wanna spend my waking hours rolling in the flowers with you girl.
Whatever you believe in, whatever you're seeking, whenever you grieve i'll cut myself in sympathy and bleed with you
I'll bleed with you.
Chemistry, that's what it is, chemical reactions, believe me when i say ihate it.
Coz i hate you for making me feel like this.It takes the piss. Love its a terrible madness, love is a terrible madness


We came together and i realized how rare the treasure. We fell and rested, our breathing rapid, returning to calm.We came together.
That prefectly timed moment before the world returns like freshy fired bricks.
We came together and you were warm.You do not dissapoint. You calm the storm in my throat, the storm that rages in your absense, rages in my gut, we came together.
That prefectly timed moment before the world returns like freshy fired bricks.We came together, we came together.
We came together and i still get lost in your kisses, i still get lost in your breathing.We came together and i still get lost in your eyes, i still get lost in your talking, we came together

Saturday, 2 January 2016

A warning

Shall i tell you what i think one of the most disrespectful things in the whole world is? When a pissed person who you don't know comes up to you and whips the hat off of your head. This has happened to all of us and i have decided if anyone whips my hat off this year, i'm gonna punish them. This isn't an invitation to try whipping my hat off, this is a warning. Oh and also folk that find it really funny to pull down folks sweatpants.......