Lost Folks Week

Reading Time: 8 minutes

Dear Mrs R,

I’ve lost it, it was here just a minute ago but now I’ve lost it, it’s lost, gone. I can’t remember what it was now but it was important, very important, I think it was important but I can’t remember. I can’t remember what it was but I lost it, it’s gone. Anyhow, it’s lost. I think I remember having it over there, maybe I think I could have put it down, possibly, over there. Then I might have come back over here, after having maybe put it down over there, possibly. Then if I maybe went back over there and found it wasn’t there, that might be about right, but if I can’t remember what it was and Iv’e forgotten what I did with it, how do I know what happened?… Read more

Upside Down

Reading Time: 9 minutes

Mr Rude-froth,

Blind dead, sad and stupid after the death of cupid, harrow. Follow the furrow, chasing the fucking ploughlads out of the field. Wielding a gun, son, threatening to shoot everyone. No nose, no eyes, no mouth, no more. MORE! Had a crisis last weekend, in case you couldn’t tell.

In brief, I collapsed in the pub in the early hours of Saturday morning. Woke up at 7a.m. and didn’t know who I was or what I was or where I was and I’d pissed the bed. Felt drugged, felt like I’d been spiked, Steve and the Geez had to help me upstairs and put me in one of the guest rooms. Turns out someone was buying me drinks and making me drink quick (I drink at my own pace, learned to, remember the days of me swilling ’em down and doing the collapse calypso) in a stupid ‘I can drink more than you game’.… Read more

Little Ron

Reading Time: 7 minutes

Oh Bugger!,

Not really mate, something’s happened, I’ve cracked it, thank fuck for that, last years shite is last years shite. Had a fuck of a X-mass and new year, blew me fucking brains out, had everything but sex – laughter, tears, violence, bodies and anti-bodies, the ghost of beautiful, sleek, black Ronnie (used to call him Little Ron), lithe and lean, found him in the market place when I had my stall, he was tiny, tired, scared and starving and had a seagulls white feather stuck to one of his whiskers. I’m crying for him. Managed to get hold of him by putting a bowl of food out and put him in cat basket under the stall. Talked gently and lovingly to him and soothed him, his eyes were so fucked he wouldn’t have lasted much longer, he’d been seen, living rough, for a few days, bless him.… Read more