trousers rolled up like Huck Finn. straw hat shading his face. glass of lemonade and a cigarette. a gentle breeze keeps him cool, as does Van Morrison on the radio.
the cat sleeps in the shade, too soporific to chase the birds in front of his nose.
he regards his toes. they look rotten. his pasty feet have been cooped in socks and shoes for months. but now they're free. soaking sun. shoeless. liberated.
he surveys the garden. flowers in bloom. colourful explosions frozen in the heat.
on a day like this there are no troubles in the world. he feels sunk in contentment. he sighs heavily. releasing any tension from the day's work. he sits up. stretches. arches his back and wriggles his toes.
time has stopped. he writes in his journal. filling a page even though he's written today already. he sips the cold lemonade and considers rolling another smoke.
a butterfly zig-zags past.
he thinks of stolen fragments of a day.
with no one to please but himself.
Broke Lads & Annoying Ads
I ride the bus because I’m way too important to drive myself. Also I get to read a book, listen to music, and have strange conversations with the other proles.What is it about bus drivers? They have a fairly easy job - no heavy lifting, no boss in their face all day, a place to sit - so why are they always so surly?
Anyway. I’m at the bus stop, in the rain because this is England, and maybe it’s my mood that causes my irritation and not the sad lame stupid poster for Ladbrokes. “When you know,” it proclaims, “You know you know!” or “When you win it’s skill. When you lose it’s bad luck.”
Underneath each pearl is their slogan: This is the Ladbrokes Life!
So going down the betting shop in a tracksuit to spend your dole money is a lifestyle choice? Ah, now I understand.
Maybe hanging around outside Tesco swigging a Special Brew tinny and leering at schoolgirls is too.
And the bloke swaggering down the road with a badly behaved staffie shouting abuse at his pram-pushing teenage missus is a cultural icon
As British as bangers and baked beans.
“When you win,” the poster tells me, “Get them in.”
This is the Ladbrokes Life!
I’m not sure if the Ladbrokes media boys are trying to be ironic, but I wouldn’t think their customer base would have much insight into such subtleties. In fact, I can only imagine the guy chucking his benefits cash on football results and horses would get a kick out of seeing a version of himself splashed over a bus stop wall.
It’s truth in advertising. Too much of it.
Next we’ll get a “Citybus Legends” campaign - A guy with greasy hair and sweat-stained armpits telling you he doesn’t have change for a tenner; or grinning through yellow teeth as he watches you running for his bus and drives off just before you get there.
Singsong from the Grave
So they found an unreleased song from back when Michael Jackson was black and now it’s all I’m hearing on the radio.
The tune’s alright, I suppose. Kind of average. But finding an old song of MJ’s is like discovering Jesus’s journal. Just think how many updated copies of the Bible they’d sell.
I wonder if the music video will be old clips of MJ or if they also found a tape of undiscovered home movies. We’ll be treated to Jacko turning burgers on the barbeque, unwrapping a pair of socks under the Christmas tree. Maybe there’s one of his pet monkey Bubbles biting his finger. That’s sure to get £250 on You’ve Been Framed.
You just know they’re gonna milk it for every last dollar. Flog that dead horse. Yeeha!
His nephews have even jumped on the gravy train.
In case you don’t remember, he had three nephews - his favourites according to them - who called themselves 3T. They had one song that only got airplay coz Mike sang along with them. And if I remember correctly: It was shit.
But now they’re back! For real. I saw them on Celebrity Juice and everything. It was like Alvin and the Chipmunks reached puberty. And then got wrinkly. But didn’t ever change their hairstyles. I haven’t heard their new song yet but I’m betting they’ve got MJ in the background somewhere. Just to be safe.
The thing is, if MJ’s old new song wasn’t good enough to be released in the 80s then what makes anyone think it’s half decent now? He’s probably moonwalking in his grave.
I say let the guy rest in peace.
Don’t make our last memories of him be some mediocre B-side track that he figured no one would want to hear back in the day.
It’s disrespectful.
ENDER'S GAME - Sci-Fi for Homophobes
It’s a funny principle of mine. If I think the artist is a dickhead I’m instantly appalled by their work.
So I have to ask myself: Should I go and watch the much hyped and highly anticipated movie “Ender’s Game”?
The author of the book it's based on, Orson Scott Card, is a vehemently outspoken homophobe. He’s so anti-gay that as a member of the Board for the National Organisation of Marriage he wrote that he’d rather overthrow the White House than allow gays to be wed.
But the movie looks like it might be alright.
It’s got Harrison Ford in it. And Ben Kingsley with some rad face-tats.
And the amaze-balls Abigail Breslin from Kick Ass.
Lionsgate Films is pushing it hard, trying to keep Card’s infamous name and views out of it, but a myriad of gay and lesbian rights groups are shouting real loud.
Lionsgate say the movie doesn’t push any political agenda and it’s just a good story.
Gay and lesbian groups say it’s putting money in a bigot’s pocket.
What should I do?
Dogtrack Disaster!
In 1936 my wife’s great-grandfather’s dog won the Coronation
Cup. Sounds like an urban legend, right?
But it ain’t.
True story.
My mum-in-law’s even got the news clipping in the attic somewhere.
It was a greyhound called ‘Our Nellie’ and it ran so fast it caught the rabbit. Of course, it wasn’t a real rabbit but rather a fluffy, rabbit-shaped ball… or something.
Once it had caught this thing it couldn’t race again. After Nellie knew it wasn’t a real rabbit he just thought, “Fuck that shit! I’d rather sniff arseholes.”
Sad story.
Or ironic.
Or a cautionary tale about never
doing your best?
Hmm, not sure.
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