Head / Shed

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Mrs R.,

My fucking mate has got a fucking head in his fucking microwave, he keeps taking slices off when he needs them. There are two fucking more in his fucking fridge. Mind you he cooked us up a nice bit of snap in the galley tonight, I don’t quite know what was in it but it was nice. The spider on my lamp has just caught a fly twice the size of it and has taken it home to have a scoff. He was on about making a film about us lot, the firm, psycho’s etc etc but I can’t remember much about it ‘cos we were off our fucking maps. The thing is that you can’t improve on reality in a fucking situation like that, I mean, two fucking heads in the fucking fridge. I only went back for a couple of spliffs and he had to show me that, but it was funny, I did laugh, in the end, after he’d put the knife down.

Greetings from Whitby. Hoorah me boys we’re homeward bound. Come rattle my rigging down. The gulls on the rooftops are shrieking fit to burst. There’s only ice + snow. Need a piss. I’ve got lots of food in but I can’t eat any of the fucking stuff, having a vodka frenzy-ette then going out on the piss 6.30-ish, Sundays in Whitby can be good, everybody is pissed and usually whistling unusually. Got fucking absolutely wankered with Keith the other night, he disappeared and I got washed and changed and went out about 10.30 but had to sit on a bench halfway for 20 mins, it was fucking touch and fucking go but I made it to the fucking Black Horse in the end. It’s 12 o’clock closing here Fri/Sat at the moment so that helps. My head’s in the fucking shed, still, over that fucking stupid lieing fucked-up slut but I’ve just realised that I must draw on the pain and hurting and use it to bring more intense emotion into my singing and playing, utilise the suffering. I’m really lonely at the moment, in need of female company but there’s no magic happening in that department just now, shame.

I’m sick of fucking dirty snot – gobbling little bastards and women who wear trainers. I’m feeling really angry and violent at the minute, yeh this fucking evil bitch, you know what I’m like when it gets like that, even more of a fucking head-case than usual, fuck me though but, not with the friends Iv’e got now, especially the firm, I daren’t get angry and start kicking off or we will fucking tear those fucking cunts in Lincolnshite a – fucking – part and fucking bury the cunts. So best not, eh. But it would be fun, great fun, thats the problem – it would be fun, we would fucking enjoy it and we would fucking laugh. We’d have to chip in and cough up for a fucking fridge big enough to put all the fucking stupid heads in. Ho Ho Ho.

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