I'm wasted working on potwash. I am, truly. A man like me, with my creative talents. But there is no way I want to be out in the kitchens. I have heard on the grapevine that the Toastman has already cornered the market in terms of shifting cheap pink champagne to the other inmates. There is little doubt in my mind that the mush from Shepherd's Bush has sent him after me.Thursday, January 20, 2011
The mush from Shepherd's Bush
I'm wasted working on potwash. I am, truly. A man like me, with my creative talents. But there is no way I want to be out in the kitchens. I have heard on the grapevine that the Toastman has already cornered the market in terms of shifting cheap pink champagne to the other inmates. There is little doubt in my mind that the mush from Shepherd's Bush has sent him after me.Monday, January 10, 2011
Bangkok
I just wanted to say a quick “thanks blood” to my main hommie boy Mr London Street. Yo comments is well appreciated. Also, a passing thanks and hello to Shopgirl, Maccoall and The Jules. And a massive big up to Mr C – natch – for inspiring me to get the fuck back into blogland. BOOM! I think that I should warn you all though, that by the simple act of befriending me and adding your sublime commentary, you have put your lives into severe danger.
In a way, I do feel a bit guilty about coming back online and thus endangering all your lives. I knew that my reappearance would send shockwaves across certain elements of the Internet. I’m under very strict orders to keep my profile on the low-down, my location is a closely guarded secret. I can say no more at this stage. Other than, if you’re getting home late and it’s dark, be on your guard. I can’t be there to help sadly. If you can, I suggest joining a judo club. The streets aren’t safe man. It’s just you against the world.
I never, for once, thought things would wind up this way. It all seems a million lifetimes from marching into BA’s business lounge to the beat of Columbia’s finest with Gary, just a passport apiece, a credit card and return tickets to Bangkok. It felt like we were Noel and Liam. Definitely maybe. I think if we were, I would have been Noel. Sure, Gary had something, a certain charismatic elemental charm, but essentially I was the artistic powerhouse of the partnership.
I thought I was a man of the world. I was until I visited Bangkok. My eyes were opened. I don’t think I’ll be able to play table tennis again. Not to any level of proficiency at least. I have no idea how long we stayed up partying. Days merged into weeks. The faces blurred. The genders were immaterial. Nothing mattered. I woke up one day with a tattoo of a monkey on my back and wedding ring on the third finger of my left hand.
It was time to come home. But things would never be the same.
