What Is It?
It was hard to guess how
old he was, he looked
ancient and he shuffled
to the counter clutching
a £5:00 note:
‘How can I help you?’
the cashier asked and the
question seemed to fuck-
him-up, he couldn’t
remember what he was
wanting at the store:
‘Cigarettes? tobacco?’
the cashier asked:
he shook his head,
frowning, trying to
think what he wanted:
‘A lotto ticket? stamps?
scratch cards?’ the
cashier enquired: the
old man shook his head;
a few people were
getting pissed-off,
cursing the old guy
beneath their breath; a
few others in the queue
shouted out ‘TV guide?
pipe tobacco? vapours?
matches?’; again he
shook his head and
looked confused and
puzzled:
I stepped up, ‘A pack
of rubbers’ I suggested:
he shook his head and
laughed a toothless
laugh and then said,
‘I’ve got a couple of
packets left over from
the 1970’s in the
bedroom cabinet but I’m
buggered if I can think of
why I’m here’
‘Good luck’ I told him
‘I can’t remember the last
time I had some of that’
he said.
1st Time Gloves On
‘When the punches start
coming back at you is when
the trouble starts and that’s
why your first, initial
punches should be clean
and vicious and hateful
but controlled, keep
your temper: from the
sound of the bell, it’s
life or death, think of it
no other way, your first
punches should be your
best and the last’
I nodded my head
knowing that I was in
for a hiding as my
veteran, older opponent
threw punches into the
air, dancing like a
victorious gladiator,
already tasting the blood
and wanting more.
A Vasectomy And Sibelius
‘Music is very important at these
kind of times’ he said ‘And what
music is it that you enjoy’ he
asked:
‘Classical music’ I replied:
‘I was hoping you were
going to say that’ he said and
walked over to a C.D. player
and pushed a button, Sibelius’
2nd symphony filled the room:
he put on some rubber gloves
and pulled up a paper-face-
mask: ’10 minutes and it’ll
all be over, lay back and relax’
the surgeon advised and I did:
a few hours later I had sore
and swollen testicles the size
of apples and for a few days a
hard-on caused agony, which
amused my wife who cruelly
and playfully teased and
aroused me, enjoying my
simultaneous agony and
pleasure.
A Bright Sunshine
I knew it was going to
be the end of our
teenage romance when
she said ‘I’m pregnant’:
gifted academically and
musically, she was
17 years old
and just months away
from university and a
future: I was 18 and
becoming a hopeless
drunk working in
illegal factories with
no fucking ambitions
but I sold what I
could to pay for the
abortion and I felt
shitty and useless and
the clinic was cold and
unfeeling and the sad,
ashamed faces of the
young women have
never left me and I
recall looking out of
a window into a dull
and lifeless car-park
that evaded even the
brightest of sunshine.
Over-Time
His uniform consisted of
a pair of shorts, sandals
and shades; he’d walk up
and down the golden
golden sandy beaches,
drinking a cold beer and
smoking a cigarette,
moving amongst topless,
scantily clad sunbathing
women and frequently,
he’d take money from
these beautiful semi-
naked girls for the hire
of beach-chairs and
sun-canopy’s:
I’ve always disliked
working and have
truly hated each job I’ve
had, but this guy had
things sussed; this was
not hard work or
boring, this was
inspiring and
stimulating;
fuck, if I had his job,
I’d be putting-in for
plenty of over-time.
