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Showing posts from November, 2006
I almost got blown from the cliffs this arvo. It’s windy bastards up there and as I strode with a mean gait towards the next rise and over, all I was really thinking about was jumping off cliffs; followed in turn, thankfully, about the need to use discretion in the choice of which cliffs from which to leap and which to leave at arm’s length until that wonderful and inevitable day when I will finally figure out how to fly. As I leant over one such of the latter kind of precipices I could not stop myself thinking about the whole spectacle of leaping to my doom. It would be so easy to trip, stumble and hang and then plummet followed by explosion and liquidification of flesh, draining away into the pebbles. Not considered in a suicidal frame of mind, just realistic. It is a possibility and I doubt I’d be able to reach that outcrop of bramble and, even if by some piece of beneficial fortune I did, would it really hold the 13 stone of muscled organism that I am, no, probably not, Jesus look…
Freddy Rich.

Frederick B. Walters, B. for Buster, aka Freddy Rich, born August 21st 1967 in Oakland, stabbed and shot to death August 19th 1995 in Las Vegas, was a pimp. Born to religious parents, father worked in a bar, mother took in sewing and cleaning, Frederick first realised that he had game in the fourth grade when he had three white girls bringing him candy bars every lunchtime, as he stood by the swings. One day four eighth-graders took him to one side and showed him the outcome of taking advantage of the quarter-back’s younger sister’s generous nature, so Frederick started buying his own candy; and he started carrying a blade. He was a bright student, polite, helpful and was never caught doing anything wrong. 1982 and Frederick’s elder brother returned from service overseas, drove a sweet ride, wore the glitziest suits in the neighbourhood and always had at least three women on the go, calling the house day and night, asking Freddie where his elder brother was, what bitch was…
Too Much Beer and Rebus.

Bent at the knees,
Contents pouring to the floor,
Balls enraged and glowing,
From the boot to the groin and fist to the jaw.

“Eh, see you Jimmy,
I’ll fucking have you, pal!
You’re one dead doss cunt”
(There’s no where safe for me now in this town.)

Inspecting the pavement
Hearing the furore from overhead,
Carefully checking they’re still both there,
Someone’s gonna die, someone’s gonna be deid.

“Oi Tommy, fucking leave him,
He’s fucking had enough.” Says his lass,
As my eyes focus and my fingers close,
Around something empty, hard and made of glass.

“Not yet. He needs a bit fucking more!”
As another boot comes in
And I know enough is enough as I move from the floor.
His foot finds air where my head should have been.

Rising I take his ankle and twist,
Enjoy the look on his face as things swing
From how it was to how it is,
And I move fast and he sees nothing.

“You killed him! He’s Dead!
TOMMMMMY!”
She screams at her ex-boyfriend.
Better him than me.
Lindsey and Bruce Wax Drunken Lyrical.


So there we were....

on a dark and windy night ....
the shutters weren't staying shut..and there was a noise from below...

an eerie strange noise that was not of this planet

So I tugged gently on Lindo's arm and stood up and moved towards the trap door. Something was alive below..

our minds were racing..what could it be?..heart was pounding so hard that I thought it would beat through my chest.

One of us had to approach the door. I didn't want to, nor did she, but to spend the rest of the night awake, in some sort of sleep, but still knowing that IT was alive below our heads was untenable. Lindo grabbed the chainsaw...


the revving of the chainsaw now drowned out every noise in the house including the thumping of my heart...

...and I admit, I sat there as Lindo took the reverberating saw in her hands and nodded towards me. I carefully lifted the trap door and Lindo stepped inside...

the darkness was the blackest light I have ever had to encounte…
District Judge Willow
Civic Centre
Barnstaple
EX31 1DY

04.10.06


RE: Claim No: 7SO00035
Francine Hurley
October 7th @ 10.00am

To Judge Willow,

I am writing to you at, admittedly, rather short notice concerning the above case that you are overseeing. Francine Hurley has been denied legal aid and therefore, due to fiscal limitations, is left no option but to represent herself on Friday. I have conversed with Sue at Barnstaple court and with a representative of the claimant's at Frank Paul’ Solicitors who have both advised me to contact you as soon as possible in writing and put forward the following case in the hope that you may allow myself to help Francine in court.

Francine is of advancing years, a point, which on itself would merit little consideration, but when combined with the drastic effect this whole ‘disagreement’ has had on her health, in my eyes has to be taken more seriously. Therefore I am hoping that this request of you to allow Francine some assistance in court on Fr…