Her name was Louise

Her jeans were tight, but tighter still,
Was her gaze
As she stood by the door to the fridge
Holding milk,
As fresh as her face
As cold as her heart
A perfect accompaniment to tea

She waited.

Her look, buckled to the mug
Which now lay fragmented upon the kitchen floor,
Jagged. Hand still on hip. Shards,
Like the noses of hounds, pointed in the air.

Her legs;
Two pillars wrapped in denim,
Stretched shadows dissect the carpet.
She stands there, startled
With her tits hanging out,
And a tattoo on her forehead reading
‘my tits are hanging out’.

Her name was Louise.



Special mention to Ally Howie for ending.

Sugar coated

Oh I’m in love.
In love. Again!
Yes looks don’t change.
It’s her. The same.

Oh I’m in love,
My mouth wet. Dripping!
I hold you close.
Our bodies sticking.

Oh I’m in love,
With you. Just you!
Your one red eye
And greasy residue.
(Am I for you as you are for me?)

Oh I’m in love.
With you alone!
Your sisters’ remains
Drip off my throne.

Oh I’m in love.
Who doubted? Believe!
“A beast of a man”
Cough. Groan. Wheeze.

Oh I’m in love.
In love? Alas!
I fear this love
This love won’t last

Oh I’m in love.
NO. It’s too late!
LOVE IS DEAD.
I masticate.

Oh was that love?
No love for me.
I sit alone.
My donut orgy.

Rant #1

Toilet etiquette

Someone keeps blocking the toilet at work. If you insist on eating a family pack of dairylea & raw mince meat from the cost-cutter discount section, washed down with a pint of Worcestershire sauce every meal time please be considerate to others and remove your Jackson Pollock homage. Dick.

No-one wants to see it. It's disgusting. Once is bad enough, especially in a public place like work; but doing it twice in two weeks is just stupid. What's even worse is that you don't even attempt to clean up after yourself. This gets me mad.

I'm a once a day man. Clockwork. I enjoy this time. I've got a football game on my phone, & I've managed to take Sweden quite far in the World Cup. Next game is against Portugal who managed to beat England so it's a big game. I like playing a half whilst on the loo, it's my escape. This is where trouble occurs. If I walk into a cubicle and I'm greeted with a poo fountain I can't go. Not even in the next cubicle. Why? Because if I go in the next cubicle, I will spend a little more than 5 mins trying to get Ibrahimovic to pull Portuguese pants down. Then when I return to my desk, the vigilant will have noticed I've been away for longer than a wee would take. THEN they might go to the loo and see a toilet paper-mache statue peppered with shit & assume it was me. I can't live life like that. No.

Continuing on from this, I work in a large office. I was the only one in the gents, washing my hands, when in walks one of the bosses. We acknowledge each other & he walks into the cubicle with the fecal shrine in. I know what he is thinking. I can no longer look at him. In fact, I can no longer work here. I quit because someone decimated a toilet. Fuck you.

A few facts not a lot of people know

• Elephants are born see-through, but only obtain their grey colour from the soot emitted from the exhaust of Bill Oddie's camper van.
• Gordon Brown can't look up.
• Until 1809, people walked backwards with their bottoms on display as it was commonly believed the more bum on show, the more important the person.
• Croc shoes are made from toys stolen from orphanages.
• No-one really knows how to play chess.
• In Sicily, you can't pass your driving test unless you shout "Weeeeeeeeee" everytime you accelerate.
• There are more lost Chinese tourists in the tunnels of the London tube network, than anywhere else in the world.
• Terry Wogan has got a working whisky distillery built inside his torso, where his liver should be.
• Ray Mears was born wearing condoms for socks. He also discovered Portugal a month later.

A Really Wild story

I was relatively new to London, my lungs had only a thin coating of smog on them and the prospect of using public transport was still exciting and appealing. I had just collected my first pay packet which bought with it much more than financial reward, it also kept the cravings for a Varsity (a pub in Derby) pint and a wriggle at Saddlers ( a club in Derby) at bay, as stepping away from five years of the Derby circuit is the equivalent of a heroin addict going cold turkey. Anyway, I couldn't of contained my smile that Friday evening, it was stamped onto my face like that of a horse shoe on a foal. One had hardly stepped foot outside of the office when my mind was racing, 'What shall my first purchase be?', 'Should I go out for dinner?', 'Will I get that tattoo of an eye patch on my face?'; all these questions but no answers.

I scuttled towards the bus stop in similar fashion to a crab on a beach full of pebbles; the only difference being I was not walking sideways. I remember there was a sweet smell in the air that evening, reminiscent of the sticky sweet smell you get at carnivals. As I inhaled, the air danced over my tongue like a Russian ballerina leaving behind pattern of sugary footprints. My eyes closed, blocking out the other senses to heighten the taste. Toffee apple? Strawberry lace? My granddads fingers after he'd eaten a Werthers Original? The one thing I could be sure of was that it reminded me of happier times. It was at that moment half of my body bounced backwards. My eyes opened like the recoil of a tape measure. My face flushed red, realising I had skipped but 30 metres with my eyes closed. Who did I hit? Before me was a blurry silhouette, stood with hands on hips. I rubbed my eyes with my hands as apposed to my knees or feet and raised my head once more.

The silhouette reappeared but with greater definition. The curvature of the body suggested this was either a scaled down version of Hulk Hogan or a well built female. My mouth opened if only for a split second before I closed it again immediately; the last thing I wanted to do was blurt out a feeble apology. Still unsure of whom was before me I reached out my hand to grab theirs. At first it seemed soft to touch but there was also a certain harshness. The best way to describe it dear reader, is to imagine stroking a cheese grater which has been tightly wrapped in silk.
"What the fuck you doing you prick?" a females voice rang out. My eyes danced around her face whilst I tried to think of something to say.
"I... Je...!" I croaked, my tongue refusing to move. Instead just lying there like a seal who had been kicked in the head by a gazelle.
"Wanker" the voice blared again, this time retracted her hand from mine. I stood there motionless...
for what seemed an eternity but was probably more a few seconds; but vital seconds they proved to be as in that very short time a cloud had slid in front of that glorious sun allowing me to loosen my squint.
I took a short sharp breath.
Of all the 7,512,400 people in London who should I bump into but 'that woman off the telly', Michaela Strachan"I'm awfully sorry young lady" I jerked remembering celebrities hated being treated any different to humans, "I haven't the faintest idea what I was just doing"
"You fucking cunt" she retorted, "You could of knocked my head off!"
"Yet again I'm truly sorry, you see I've just been given my first pay..."
"Fuck off" she interjected, and with that barged past me using her well maintained blonde hair as a whip to my face.
I stood there, again motionless. Shocked. Belittled. Humiliated. My mind tried to scramble something of a reply.
"How about a drink as a gesture of good will?" I spewed. "I know of a place that serves a glorious Pimms."
She stopped halfway through her walk cycle, one leg hovering in the air so she resembled a cardboard cutout of Heather Mills. She turned slowly.
"I suppose I could do with a drink"
I waited till she was next to me and threw my hand over the back of her shoulders in similar fashion to that of injured comrades in war, or that of a lad with one arm throwing a scarf over him on a windy day...
There was a spark between us immediately, some sort of sexual chemistry attracted to each other like two electro-magnets.
One pitcher of Pimms quickly turned into four. With each gulp I remembered to maintain some decorum and not reveal I knew her identity. However, as the nights sky was over us like the lining of a Gary Glitter jacket sooner than I'd of liked we had to make our own paths back to where we were initially headed.
"I have a small confession" I whispered into her ear, smelling her neck as she toyed with the cocktail stick she had kept from the bar to pick out the fruit.
"I feel as close to you as I imagine I would do to a partner of 40 years!" I breathed slowly into her ear, nibbling the lobe in a playful manner.
"Would it at all be possible to have your number?" I said whilst sliding my hand down the back of her dusty jeans...
"Certainly" she tickled back.
I withdrew my phone and placed it into her chest, slowly running it down her body and into her pocket.
"Put your digits in there" I said with a huge curly smile.
"What about my name?" she replied, "We don't know each others names!"
I giggled, twisting my foot into the ground like a bashful school girl.
"I know yours... Michaela"
She froze. The glint in her eyes quickly faded like that of potassium nitrate in a small dish of water.
"MICHAELA?" She barked, "I'M TERRY NUTKINS YOU PRICK"

Bubbles

I was privileged to share 3 years of my life with Bubbles, my orange scaled goldfish. Bubbles and I first met at the circus, and his owner at the time offered me bubbles in exchange for throwing a ring around some bottle necks. When I got him back, he settled in to his new home with great ease. He was extremely energetic for a goldfish and loved swimming. Sometimes, i would rest my finger very gently on the top of his water and he would swim up and give me a kiss which would evoke more emotion from me than a kiss from a human has ever done.

Unfortunately, nearly 5 months ago, I noticed Bubbles had swum his last stroke. He was floating on the surface of his bowl, in-between the miniature castle and plastic seaweed. I rushed him to the local vets but after 4 hours of surgery Bubbles left us. He had suffered a huge heart attack. I was devastated, but I know Bubbles will always be with me in spirit, as well as in self as I have had him laminated and turned into an earring. RIP Bubbles.