I've Been Everywhere

On the day I heard 'Pig Champion' was deid, I wondered what it would be like to be 'of normal body'. Acceptable. The Fuckeridge is now open. Sunday nights. We're not working tomorrow- we're in The Beer Bar. Truly inevitable. None of your "hen, I currently weigh 17 stone, my penis is minute, thick as a brick, is that it?, I am unlikely to ever be truly honest with you, I really am no fun, dinnae expect any La Senza, ken?". The 'piggay bastards' are called. A man with alopecia and Blue Murder albums once cornered me outside Romano's Fish and Chicken Bar with his tales of Bounty Bars in the 80's. Another one asked me if I would like to read his 'Caravan and Trailer Monthly' and couldnae believe he had so many biscuits in his pockets. Spinal fusion. "He was 'simple', ken? No the full shiling, well, maybe 5p". At the same time, I was at 'the Porte'. A fucked blue metal shelter. "Will you get fixed with me?" There is no consolation in being the real deal when you're talking about 'status grading' amongst social misfits. England's Talisman and his heartbreaking tribute to awbody's heroes...I almost got a bit ornery/on the day David Bairstow died/ on the day 'old' Mick Shanley pished himsel in the Auld Hoose for the 47th time/on the day Robert 'Bob' Heggarty 'Haggerty' drank himsel to death...while running a charity race in drag. It's more than enough 'Kenny', you're wrong. Stop writing shite wi' 'Jonny'. He's nowt but a 'gapper'. Trying to escape, scarin' masel walking past 'Hey Kitty' and then witnessing thae lives wi' their 'ease of movement'. Choking sensations. Secure units. Survival kit. I don't know it. Bulging gut. This shape. She told me a story of how they would wake up mornings and crack open the grogs. Her wi' the Autumn colours, the orange jersey and the Ali MacGraw thing wi' the purple cords, she lost 'that' hat while pissed at the do. "You got any idea where it went?". Aye, it got dropped and kicked away by one o the Jackies and Shonas in the trooser suits and the Slosh. 'She' went hame wi' 'him'. I walked to the Dersim Kebab. I want to register myself as a man. I'm part of the human race. You really will accept me now. Can I marry you? That's not a reference to comedy. Skint and aflame but only wi' wasted ire. 5 miles. She phoned later. I was standing next to a car which was booming out Jaco Pastorius. I'm now aiming for Lemn Sissay. "Are you ok?" "No". "Aye, I'm fine. I'm ok wi' it. Everything's grand." What is the point of a low key death? On yer ain. Melodrama. Taking the power back. Throw a dog aff the bridge. I hate the way folk frae the weege say hawf. It truly is the most contrived thing I've ever heard. This is ma epitaph. He couldnae get wi' it. Where is the consolation? It's nowhere. TV and all there is for ye-Aqua Peem Charlie Hungerford. Cult followings age me years at a time. Posters of Meatwad. However many layers you have to break through. The Howling Castle (I mean come on, for fuck's sake) is as overrated as the Mogger bastards. The new 'Sport Billy'. You have to go with it tho'. The Cheeks and Cool Keiths of the world say it. They're making history. They now soundtrack tributes to Clive Lloyd. I cannae handle it. Where is she now? Scuffed. Incomplete. Control control control. Material from the epoch. A free gonk. Peter York. Peter Tork. Resort to material like 'Tork's cheesy organ dominates throughout'. Large man with pint in hand drooling over fanciables. Retreats to his Uriah Heap. I was carding it 'til I went bankrupt. We're worried about your debt. You've impounded my cooking materials, my Wisdens, comestibles. Sold everything else to Cash Converters. Needed to buy 6 pack of Frusli's. I'm the one who's guilty. On the Day I heard 'Pig Champion' was deid, I sold them 'Naked' on DVD for 50p, I ate 2 lunches, I heard 'she' wanted to see me, my claes dinnae fit, I have to quote this in full- "I could eat a chocolate bar and that would be all right/ but then my waist band would get too tight". My life is over.