SOME OF WHAT THE PISTOLS DID…

i’m a lot older than most of you and i remember the sex pistols. i remember what they meant:

“Right ! now ! ha ha ha ha ha, I am an antichrist
I am an anarchist
Don’t know what I want butI know how to get it
I wanna destroy the passer by cos iI wanna be anarchy !
No dogs body
[etc]
The only way to be !
Is this the m.p.l.a Or is this the u.d.a Or is this the i.r.a I thought it was the u.k or just Another country, Another council tenancy.I wanna be an anarchist. Oh what a name. Get pissed; destroy".

there are more lyrics with which i shall not bore you. suffice to say that the pistols meant a great deal to me at the time, meant a great deal to my friends and meant a great deal to the world. they WERE the band that changed things. elvis and the beatles and the stones just copied ruthlessly but these lads didn’t. just using the word ‘lads’ makes me feel rather red in the face.

so my vote is for the sex pistols. manufactured yet great; they spawned john lydon who can still sneer. out of all of those bands there is only one man who can still sneer for england - i don’t actually like him but he can still do it.

you know another? - really?

whoever you pick i bet that in comparison with john lydon your contestant will lose. especially if the contest is judged by me. which it will be.

adios amigos.

HMMMMMMMM

having spent a while with a bag of liquid nitrogen on my head to cool my overheated brain down i have had a few thoughts about my carryings on.

firstly, i thought to stop.

but then i thought that a punch-up or two is always rather interesting so i might as well go on (and on and on).

i saw kingfishers today and that made me happy. i also saw something else; i won’t tell you exactly what it was but it was about as funny as a burning orphanage.

hey ho, back up the hospital i should think.

have a good weekend and goodnight to you.

RUN

it’s by snow patrol.

i shall hum it down the towpath. as i run too.

i’m so sick of running. sick and tired of being sick and tired. so sick of running.

fare thee well.

THIS IS A PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT…

LOST BOTTLE

it is with grief and woe that this blog has to announce that “anonymous” has lost their bottle.

poor old anon has lost bottle altogether and if anyone sees the missing bottle will they please return it to anon at the following address:

pathetic twat
13 coward street
yellowtown
weakshire
W4NK3R

GOOD JOB I’M SO GREAT

i woke up in a sweat. it’s hard being ill you know. as anon so rightly pointly out i AM a sponger. my massive incapacity benefits more than cover my outgoings. 54 quids a week sure does keep me luxuried right up. all the beans on toast i can eat and the muggins taxpayer covers the lot.

my brother dropped by today and it was good to see him. i had a txt off my son. but my main reason to write is this:

DEAR ANONYMOUS

you called me a cunt. that may well be true but i wish you could call me a cunt to my face. go on, tell me who you are. we could have a good laugh or a fight. a pathetic little wank-stain who can’t be arsed to sign off is not what i would like to be. i write what i like and i put my name at the bottom of it. i have guts and you do not. i have spent years reading bukowski and i know how to deal with you and your ilk. see the comments on the blog below and you will see how well regarded you are by people i have the privilege of calling friends. do you have friends, my dear anon? do you? i don’t give a monkeys what you say or what you call me, that’s the name of the game, but say who you are and stand up for yourself.

so, in a sad little attempt to tease you out, i say this:
i’m, if anything, self-deprecating.
i am not a racist.
i am not a sponger.

so let’s hear some reply from you, you little cunt. bet i don’t. but i have the bollocks to write this and you don’t. my name is on it and yours won’t be. so, come on you sad little cunt, come and have a go if you think you’re hard enough; car-park now.

IN SUMMARY

weariness with little tossers is bad but so is a sinking boat. really i have better things to do.

STATS:

promising to stop smoking: yes
swig: is there anything else?
cunts: anonymous 100%

goodnight.

THE BITER BITTEN

oh dear, mr acid-tongue got a nasty comment on his blog…

“You’re in my thoughts too. I keep thinking I hope you drop dead you self-aggrandising, racist, sponging cunt. If you are only temporarily ill it’s less than you deserve.Anonymous 11.17.04 - 5:11 pm #”

well, dear anon, you are about half right. i may well be a cunt but i’m not a racist.

i believe that whatever you post on here you deserve what you get so i’m not in the least unhappy about what i get because that would make me a hypocrite. which i am not either.

i like to think that it was posted by tony bliar.

YES MATE, STARTS FIRST TIME

this is what i would not say when trying to sell a car or, more especially, the stove off the boat. it’s true that it has lit first time but that was only once or twice.
trying to light the stove generally involves swearing and about 300 quidsworth of fire-lighters.
the “i am man, i make fire” thing that makes men barbecue specialists does not seem to work with the stove. perhaps my tears of frustration keep putting it out.

CHEERS, ANON

the difference between us is that when i say something i put my name to it and take the flak whereas you do not. but never mind. you gave me a good laugh. i raise my glass to you… cheers!

STATS:
swig - about the same
fags - lessish
blogger going all wrong - 100%
self-aggrandising, racist, sponging cuntiness - oooh, about 15%? i’m not sure. suggestions on a postcard please.

goodnight and sleep well. yes, even YOU.

FEAR

it went mad, the blogger thing.

i’m dirty. i’m covered in mud and diesel and grease.

i wonder if it will work now. but whether or not it does or not i shall soon be away to the boat and staggering down the towpath.

the fear?

i’m paranoid. if you don’t know or understand what paranoia is then bully for you. i know what it does to me.

WAAH WAAH WAAH I HAVE TO ESCAPE

fear is horrible, it comes in the night and terrifies. fear will come and get you no matter what you do.

the fear will always be there.

fear of death. fear of mum and dad. of what you should have done.

oh, fuck me, i’m frightened of dying. i never want to see the blood in the bowl again.

FRIGHTENED

and i smoke and i drink and i wonder…

NOW

i have to walk out into the dark. a little boy in the darkness. perhaps i will whistle. perhaps i won’t

TO YOU

i’m scared. will you hold my hand?

IN RECEIPT

there were cards, many cards.
some were unkind, the very kind of unkindness that i love, the kind that makes me feel like carrying on.

my heartfelt thanks to every sender of cards and good wishes.

my love to you all and, oh, how i wish how i could express the feelings that really got to me as i read each and every one.

thanks for the jokes, for the love, for thinking of me.

cheers!

h.

XXX