This joke which ended

Well, he's lucky it's my birthday - otherwise I would have fucked him as well.

It was one of those things which sound as if they come from behind a wall -

in one of those picture-frame places with a yard and a fence and where no one wants to repeat things, full of men. She had the mouth of a trooper, fists like a docker and a prisoner's arse. Maybe it was a line from a film, or just not a joke or something. People were pissing themselves and sliding about on the floor -

She was in so much trouble they even grabbed her hair - do you know that fat lesbian even accused the parents of not doing a proper job. (She laughed when she heard that, she was picturing them). She said That girl of yours needs - So what. Everyone was normal and boring and bored and funny and that was fine, no one minded flying plant pots or spastics or being scared shitless of getting caught. Laughter. These are the best days of your life!

Before she was on the bus she turned around and said with a look in her eye, 'Shut your fat fucking gob. It better not be' - and that was the first time someone spoke that way. Not the swearing. It was like a crack in the sky in her face. God! she seemed lovely after that

jpd

Whoah Captain Morganti

Do they have any idea what it is to glide between vision, darkness, I mean completely without vision in the fog -3 degrees headlights picking lines out sliding diagonally rather than cycling? Whoah. Frozen jacket, high contrast lenses. Whoah. Captain bawdy Morganti does, does well Sometimes he looks at the earthquakes and feels like a dinosaur: I don’t know, I’m getting old? He twists my ear. I had a dream last night… I woke up from it. Can you imagine how I felt. I don’t want to repeat myself (heh) but remember those fucking grey cement floors, shithead? I thought I’d never know passion again and I was right. Heh I make decisions, let’s not make a big deal over why they listen, I’m a little far gone personally I’m actually in the airport, in the waiting room, the bedroom not mine heh, the grey floor, the particular light of one morning in particular, the folding of a new season back on the memories of the last time it smelt like this, the drunk morning waking up, the silences, the moments you live for (hah, yes), the cold the big duvet smell.

Swaddling to the shitter silently splattering the walls popping pimples and driving a sports car the next day, this one, this one I'll repeat to the young and unformed.

-LPM