Sunday, November 15, 2009



My mind slowly clicked into gear,the heat on my eyes' warm and red.
Six months I'd lived in Spain,when will I learn to pull the shutters closed at night:drunk or not drunk!
Oh no!
That perfume,my eyes snapped open:thank God,she's not there,an empty pillow.
I started to smile to myself as the nights events came back to me.

Jane,the retired failed actress,her description not mine.
One of the many Ex-pats in the small village,who spent their days flitting from one friend to another,playing cards,gossiping and getting sozzled on a regular daily basis.
For the main I kept myself to myself,mixing mainly with my Spanish friends;but once in a while homesickness,loneliness,the sound of English being spoken,whatever the feeling is:this situation is occurring on a weekly basis.
I feel that I must not slip into the English trap.

I stood on the balcony blinking.
Ten o'clock,Sunday morning,the sun was getting hot,another two hours and it would be like a furnace.
The sun sharply reflecting off the white-washed walls.
Mucho color,as they say.

I looked down the dry,sun scorched brown hillside onto the farms and small holdings,in the valley two kilometers away. I could make out a figure of a man,leading a donkey laden with branches,a true working team I felt. The valley levelled out and then sharply rose into a mirror image of the hill I lived on.

A clink of a cup and a cough.
I looked across the narrow gap to the next balcony,'Pedro' flicked his hand in the Andalusia way of greeting; “Hola Kebin Que tal?” Bein Pedro,et tu?
A question which reoccurs through out the day.
I found the Spanish people very respectful and pleasant.

To my left a flash of blue struck my eye,the Mediterranean was twinkling,light blue six kilometers away,beckoning me.
I have to be at work in a hours time.
Mathew,a blond very tanned youth,the only ex-pat I'd met who had truly integrated;he had lived with his family in Spain for ten years:being only six when they arrived,he was now more Spanish than English,as I witnessed in Sebastians bar the night before.
He was stoned as usual it being Saturday night,probably not much less so this morning. He sat with Theresa,a jet black haired beauty. She was definitely out of bounds for the usual English lad,but they'd grown up together and were now inseparable,a good match.

He was supposed to pick me up at the Bar at eleven o clock,for the scare ride down the mountain road on his motorbike,i don't let on that my eyes are slammed shut for most of the ride;I have to trust his skills,not an easy task on a Sunday morning.
We worked the pedalos on birranna beach for 'Tony the Greek',the pay wasn't good but we got a tan and plenty of laughs. Mainly at the expense of the tourists,pink,pot bellied and who seemed to be drunk for two weeks at a time:plus an endless supply of female admirers.

'Pedro' lit up a Spanish cigarette,the smell invaded my hangover,I wouldn't or couldn't get used to the foul smell,cow-dung,I retched.

I took a shower,pulled on my shorts and vest,slipped my crucifix around my neck:my daily uniform.
It wasn't any good looking in the fridge,no milk,the contents were:two bottles of beer,a coke half drunk and half a tin of tomatoes with greenish blue fur.
I missed my Grans tea in the mornings.

I left my flat,turned right into the 'Calla de Grenada',a grand name for the twelve foot wide ally that I lived in. I turned left up the steep slope,keeping in the shade,flamenco music blasted out of a window,kids were being yelled at,the streets stank hot. I struggled up the donkey steps,every third step raised to assist the heavy laden beasts.
Breathing heavy for a twenty two year old,I made it into the main street.
Jane was gossiping with Jack,an old artist,they didn't see me thank God:I ducked into Sebastians bar,so dark,so cool.

“Hola Kebin! Cafe especial Si?”
Si Sebastian.
His usual greeting. He looked typically Spanish,five foot six,heavy set,black hair and a friendly face.
He'd worked in Switzerland in the Hotel trade,a well paid job,but he'd missed the climate and returned to his village. He opened his bar/cafe and was doing well,it was a small bar,one side was screened off,an area to eat tapas,watch bullfights and argue.
Sunday was his busy day,while the women and children went to Mass:the menfolk drank.
Farm workers,Doctor,office staff,the Mayor even the local Police man;they all mixed happily together,no class system here.
They chatted,argued over the past weeks events,sometimes very loudly,but always with good humour:no British violence here,it wouldn't be accepted at all.
Just the presence of 'Francos' Guardia Civil,in their sharp green uniforms ensured that fact.

Sitting at the counter was one such trooper,'Miguel' a friend of mine,the first policeman I could ever call that. I just hoped he wouldn't find out about my jumping ship in Malaga.
We first met when I was escaping the clutches of the seedier side of Malagas shore side. I sat next to him on the bus,he was then a student returning to his village. He called me Despachio on account of when he and his mates spoke it was so quick my Spanishh couldn't keep up,I had to say “Despachio,despachio,slow down,slowly”
He was a large,gentle man,now doing his National service.
He was very proud he'd been selected for the Guardia civil.

I remember when he came into the bar for the first time,in his uniform:his right arm behind his ramrod back.
A matador strutting his stuff.
Then an eruption of cheering and clapping,as the joke became apparent.

Miguel was now Guardia Civil!

Thursday, November 12, 2009

Joe and Dannys Day out

I know you've been waiting...I was side tracked;but I'm back on form,plein form in fact.
Watched 'C Brooker' recently,and sorry Charlie,you're good,but I'm a natural talent...I just gotta do what 'Mother nature'intended.

David,you've gone and got side tracked Too,schade mein freunde!

Hold on to your hats folks...this ones gonna break your heart:

It's about two boys caught up in a messy divorce,family break up,children's homes,nervous breakdowns,sex,abuse,bastard treatment a smattering of bullying...and off course my passion for a touch of violence...

Now don't go getting all know my style by now,it's going to wretch your guts,burst your tear ducts and give you bad dreams...I'd like to apologise for the shit which will hit the fan:but I can't.

"The door squeaked open,it was quiet,dark...still as the grave.
Danny wallowed in his dreams of the valleys,a hand slid over his mouth...his terrified scream was silenced.A pair of rough hands grabbed his kicking feet.
Danny was dragged,silently screaming to his tormentors."

Sunday, May 17, 2009

Sonia's mourning BEWARE...writing


Sonia's Mourning.

Our Father henry was a tall man,his black hair was slicked back,a gloss of Brylcream. He wore round metal spectacles:and always a suit with a waist coat,watch and chain.
His shoes,struck me as a young girl:so very shiny.

“You see your face her girl...LOOK,Go on look!”

They did.
I always knew when Father was around,those shoes would,Click-Click on the concrete,Click-Click:they'd cry.
Metal nailed,front and back.

“Last ten years these shoes:have no doubt of that my girl!”

I'd smile,yes Father;but to me they were an early warning system.
Six O clock they would tell me ...he's off to work,I'm safe.


“Morning Mr Jones.”

“Morning milkman.” He'd grunt.

Six thirty in the evening.


Quick,get the books out Sonia.
Lovely shoes they were;they spoke to me,a friend who warned me.
They warned Mummy as well.
Ann was small,her hair was old,grey,lifeless! She hardly went out,unless to the village shop or the butchers;no need for fancy hair dos there she'd say,but Father didn't agree.

“Smarten yourself up Ann:get to the mirror now!”

She always seemed to cry so easily. Not like me.

“I'm a good girl,aren't I Father?”

She always wore black,long black skirt,black jumper,black cardigan. She must have been in mourning...for her life,maybe.
She couldn't have been that scruffy though;Saturday night I'd hear Father...

“Come on now!”

The grunts and squeaks,once the clatter of the water jug falling over.
Father drank Saturdays,after dinner:while I played the piano.
When the old clock chimed Eight O clock...

“Stop child. Off to bed with you.”

Mummy looked scared most of Saturday;even when she was preparing our food.
I remember one Saturday morning...Rabbit in the stone sink,the guts,floating in the grey water,the smell,the skin and fur being pulled...wrenched off...a strange sound...Hmmm!

She and the rabbit looked the same...TERRIFIED!

Doctor Whitehouse and Doctor Clement.
Chadwick Mental Hospital.

When I met Ruth Whitehouse she seemed too young to be a proper Doctor,and too nice,she listened to me intently;nodding her head sympathetically:a friend at last.
She did most of the talking;gently probing,feeling me out.

“Yes Sonia,oh dear,did they.
Why did they do that.
You poor girl.”

I liked her immediately. Always smiling.
Her shoes were shiny.
I smiled with her:she understood.

“Can I borrow your lipstick Ruth,it's very pretty,I like red.”

“Do you?
Is it your favourite colour Sonia?”

“Hmm,yes it is.”

“Do you know why you're here Sonia?

Who's that!
Oh yes,Doctor Clement,I'd forgotten he was there.
He's got sensible shoes,and not too well cleaned.
He'll get into trouble for that.
I'll write that down in my report,for later on.
I'd better acknowledge him,otherwise he'll think that I'm strange...I'm not fucking strange,and that's that!

“Yes Doctor,I hit the principle,but she made me,I didn't.”

“Do you want to tell us about it Sonia?”

“She called me Mrs Looney.
I didn't hear her,I think,but I know she did.
They all do...the girls...I've heard them...whispering,laughing at me.
I WON'T have it.
SO I walked into the staff security...
It was break time for her.
She was eating fucking biscuits,fucking biscuits...not worried about me,oh no...fucking Bitch.
That stupid hat,a fucking fruit bowl on her daft head.
Stupid,stupid grey fucking hair.
Smiling she was,smiling at ME!
Laughing at me...I know she was.
I walked over,and in front of everyone:I smacked her real hard across her stupid fucking face...
Ha,that showed em...Silence,shock...Ha.
Then I smashed her over the head...fucking stupid head.
Hit her with a chair!
That showed em..Ha...silence then there was. I showed em good and proper...BITCH,BITCH!

“It's alright Sonia.
You didn't hurt her,you lost your temper that's all,take a tissue...don't cry,it's OK.”

“Thank you,Ruth.
I'm sorry,sorry...I didn''s just...”

“OK,don't worry now Sonia.”

“Thank you Ruth,I like your shoes,can I borrow your lipstick.”

Doctor Clements was very busy:making notes.
He looks very serious...I don't like him...fucking wire glasses.

“Sonia,can you tell us about the girls pet Rabbits?”

“Yes Sir,I can.
Someone killed them Sir.”

“Go on.”

“Well it wasn't me if that's what your getting at.
They found them in the morning all cut up.
A fox must have got them.
I saw them foxes on the playing field.
At night.
When I go for my walks when every ones asleep.
I watched them playing in the moonlight it was good.”

The Rabbits were strangled.”

“Ha,so THEY say.
I don't believe them though.
Foxes bite and scratch.
Why are you looking at me like that.
Your shoes are dirty.
I don't like here...I want to go home now Daddy will be waiting you know.
Father will be very angry now I know.
You'll see.”

Back on the ward,it's always busy;crashing and banging,noise...screams,moans.


Old Tim's saying the Lords prayer.
Over and over.
Vera told me he was a prize fighter;but he got hit too many times...Bad boys.
Then she told me he was an African prince in exile;at 250 pounds and over six foot tall,both of her stories could be true.
He doesn't bother anyone,just says his prayers all day and not another word.
Vera's has a dolly with one arm:called Baby.
She always takes Baby everywhere with her,talking to Baby,dressing Baby.
When we have meals,Vera feeds Baby,she won't let me hold
Baby:no one can.
One afternoon on recreation,Chris Spinks,the chief nurse was teasing Vera about Baby messing herself and smelling the room out...of course Vera was most upset...

“I'm not a bad mother.”
She spat at Spinks.
“Go away, leave me and Baby alone.”

Spinks grabbed Baby and snapped her arm clean off;laughing...

“You daft cow Vera!”
Vera screamed and smashed the table...


It took three nurses' to take Vera away,screaming and kicking.
Spinks scowled at us...

“Keep your mouths shut,or you're next!”

Vera was separated for two days and nights. When she returned she was very reserved and calm:but Baby seemed OK.
Vera,Tim and I shared the small modern mixed ward with James...a dirty unclean drug addict,who ran errands for Spinks and much more I suspect...he was on my list.

Vera and I caught him late at night,crawling under the beds':looking for sex we thought,but no such luck.


I turned on the light.
He jumped into the corner,crouching,naked,staring at us behind closed clenched fists,

“Fuck off,leave me alone you queer bitches.”

He was hunting cockroaches.
He made me feel sick.
I threw up over the grey blankets.
Vera and Baby were both crying.
Old Tim hid under his covers,he knew what would happen next.
Spinks and Dave Berry burst into the room.

“What the fucks this!
Vera shut up or the calm down ward for you.
Sonia you stink.”

A bucket of cold water hit me in the kisser,smack in my face...Shock...I started to cry.

“Leave her Chris,come on Sonia,here let me help you.”

Dave was nice,even when he touched me;not rough like Spinks.
Chris Spinks scowled at James.
He grunted,then began kicking James;over and over.

“It's all your fault Junkie.”

James rolled into a ball and accepted his beating,whimpering,screeching.
Next,Spinks took him by the hair and dragged James into the showers for a scrub down...I don't know why he locked the door,though.
Old Tim hid under his bed with the good Lord.

The next day normality returned:
James was very subdued,although his face bore the brunt of the previous nights events.
Dave Berry told Vera and I to clean up the shower room,as James wouldn't go in there.
It wasn't that bad,spatters of blood and faeces in the sink area. It looked as though Spinks had had a jolly good evening.
Old Tim didn't seem to know what had gone on...lucky Tim.

As the days turned into weeks,spring arrived.
Vera,Baby and I were allowed to walk in the grounds of the hospital;it felt nice to be in the sunshine.
I had on a new floral dress from the Red Cross shop,it's very pretty,red flowers on cream.
I pretended that I was from Africa,I could marry Tim and go back to our village in the bush,raise coffee coloured children. Our straw and mud hut will be lovely,with pictures on the wall and a piano of course.
We could raise Rabbits and Horses...I like Horses,they wear shoes as well.

“Come on Sonia,stop day dreaming silly girl and put some knickers on;that dress is see through...fat bum.”

It is just as well really,old Tim never speaks:it will just be sex,fucking and dirty stuff...well that's no basis for a marriage,is it.
We have a plan,Vera,Baby and me,a secret recipe Vera got from a real witch on calm down ward...
Grass,some twigs with daisies and dandelions,a splash of mud and toenails:all mixed together with water.
We stole an old jam tin from behind the kitchens, out of the rubbish bin.
The plan is,if we can get Spinks to drink it:he'll shrivel up and turn into a big scampering cockroach.
Then we're going to tell James and point out Spinks...and Vera says James will eat him all up...
We had a bit of an argument about the plan ...Vera said

“You look a whore in that dress and Red nail lipstick!”

I left Vera and Baby making the potion.

“I'm not sulking,Vera.

I don't like wearing knickers!”

I look nice in my red floral dress and red lipstick...I'm NOT a whore!
I don't care,bollocks to them.
She said my white shoes don't go with my outfit...what does she know about shoes.
I don't care...shit to Baby as well!
I'm going for a walk,I might meet an African prince.

As I walked up the narrow corridor past the showers,I heard someone crying..


I can sense necks tingling...

The door opened.

“Hello,hello...look it's teacher Sonia.
Come in girl...fancy a bit of detention,do you?
Come on,we won't hurt you...
Just having some fun is all.”

Why did I open the door...
Am I a bad girl.

Spinks and James were lounging on the sink units,drinking whisky from a bottle.

A whimper attracted my came from a young girl from rehab,she was naked,apart from ripped grey knickers and wet trainers.
Spinks said.

“We're just giving Mary a washdown because she soiled herself.
Get out now Mary and keep your gob shut.”

Mary scampered to the door like a frightened rabbit.

“You look nice Sonia,come and have a drink.”

I took a little sip..


James laughed.
Spinks grabbed my hair behind my neck and poured whisky down my burned like fire!
His hands were now on my breasts..

“Oh no.
Please don't!”

“What's the matter teacher,just a little detention,is all.”

He pushed his tongue deep into my throat...I could bite it off...Go On...DO IT!...No,no I can't.

“Look James,she's wearing no knickers...she's begging for it.”

I'm going to be sick!
Oh NO,not that...Pleaseee.

He bent me over the sink,my face pushed hard against the cold porcelain,he pushed...LORD,I gasped why.
He ruthlessly raped me!
In the reflection I saw my screwed up face,I used to be so pretty...Daddy told me so...not now though...WHERE are YOU Father?
I caught a glimpse of James his yellow teeth shone at me,in a mad laugh...he was masturbating.
Spinks and James seemed to ejaculate at the same time.
I felt liquid seeping down my legs.
He wiped himself on my pretty new dress.

I started to cry.

They both laughed at me.

“Clean yourself up teacher and piss off!”


I feel so unhappy...I could...

Twelve O Clock,It's like being back at school. Vera and I decide to eat with Tim,to cheer him up.

“Hello Tim do you mind if we sit with you?”

No answer,Vera and Baby talk about the plan...Tim doesn't seem to want to get involved;which is quite understandable he doesn't want largactol ,he's zombie enough as it is.
Liver, mash and greens;this food is disgusting,Luke warm globules of gravy,just like school.
I had better eat it all up...
That's it be a good girl Sonia!

Fucking shit!

Did I say that,no ones looking,must have just thought it.
These metal chairs make such an awful noise,scraping on the lino.

“Stop making that fucking noise Sonia.”

“I'm not,Vera,it's not me.”

Tim doesn't seem to know what's going on...on the pills,I bet.

“Eat your dinner Tim,be a good boy like me and Vera.”

Spinks strode into the canteen with James;he looked like a Gastapo officer and his lackie. Vera and I kept our heads down.
Shit they're coming over to our table.

“Hello wackos,eating our slops are we.”

He prodded Tims food with his finger.

“What's the matter chief,not good enough for you,want some rice and corn do you?”

James sniggered and spat on the table next to Tim.
Tim just sat there,deep in tribal thoughts,cheetahs,tall grass and savannah doubt.
Spinks soon got bored of Tim,no response.

“How's your dolly Vera,eating her food is she?”

Vera seemed to shrivel up.
He put his arm around me...

“Hello teacher,keeping it all in order are we?”

His hand slid over my breast,he tweaked my nipple,he hurt,no gentleness.
I saw that everyone was watching,the dinner ladies,even old Tim...why doesn't anyone help me:daddy would!
My nipple grew hard,he whispered...

“I'll see you later Sonia,for some more detention.”

While the attention was on me,James snatched Baby and pushed her face into Tims dinner.
Vera screamed and plunged her fork smack bang into James cheek,missing his eye by a fraction ,his scream joined Vera's,in a barrage of noise.
Blood spurted over the table like ketchup.
Vera rocked Baby better.
Spinks roared...


James shrank to the floor crying.
Spinks made to grab Vera and Baby.
Old Tim must have heard the bell.
The floodlights came on,the crowd roared for the champ.
Tims second, massaged Tims shoulders.
Tim looked marvellous,red satin shorts,white boots.
His muscles shone with sweat.
Tim hadn't looked or felt so good for years
The bell clanged.

I sat locked to the metal chair,full of admiration and love for my hero.

“HIT him champ,hit him.”

He hunted Spinks...
One,two,three jabs,Spink's eye exploded in a spray of dark blood. A right cross,his cheek moved over his face.
A straight left to the mouth,bits of teeth and mucus spattered my meal.
Spinks started to slide down the wall,defenceless.
Tim threw an uppercut,a broken head banged the concrete.
Fight over.

“TIM,I'll love you for ever.”

Dave Berry and some other nurses rushed into the canteen.
James crawled under the table.
Tim just lowered his head...and started to pray.

The next morning I awoke at 8.30,with the most horrendous headache...probably due to the Lardactol,Berry injected me with.
I sleepily looked around the ward,Tims and Vera's beds,both were empty...I started to cry...why is this happening to me.
Dave Berry came in and gently told me to be at Doctor Whitehouses office at Ten O clock,and not to worry;it wasn't my fault...I just hope Daddy will be there so I can explain:I'm not a bad girl.
After cleaning my face and eating some breakfast,I found myself outside the Doctors office,it felt like being at school again...waiting to be caned.
From inside I could hear talking and then a raised voice barked...

“Do you know what you've done Spinks?”

I started to tremble,oh no I felt like running and hiding in the cupboard.

“Do you Spinks.
You have set Tim back years.
I just hope that we can help him!
There's no excuse for your behaviour.
Clear out your locker and leave the hospital immediately.
Think your self lucky,we don't call the police.
Get out,you disgusting little man!”

The door opened;I looked at the floor,the scruffy black shoes walked past...I didn't look up.

“Sonia come in please.
There's a good girl.”

Doctor Ruth informed me that Tim and Vera were staying on ward six for a little while.
They told me I wasn't to blame for the ruckus in the canteen.
They said Spinks wouldn't be working at the hospital and I wasn't to worry;if I needed anything to ask Nurse Berry.

“Yes Doctor,thank you.”

It's been five weeks.
I feel so alone.
No Vera and Baby,no Tim the champ at least James doesn't bother me, he's been very quiet since Spinks has left.
Dave Berry came over...
“Sonia:come to the doctors office please?”

I followed him into the office..Oh no,what have I done..

“Hello Sonia,sit down please.
We have some bad news for you I'm afraid.
Your Father and Mother have been in a car accident:it wasn't anybodies fault,they were...

The scream roared through my head:I felt urine pouring down my forehead hit the floor,it felt like an electric shock.
When I regained conciousness:I was strapped down under a red blanket on ward six.

The next four months were a blur on my mind.
I remember being held and strapped,the electric burning my skull and shooting through my head;down my veins and out of my toes....
The drugs,a purple haze enveloping my whole world.
I can't remember food,drink,going to the toilet or any everyday events.

One summer morning,I heard the most beautiful bird song...a father wooing his baby chick...caressing her mind.
I started to smile:he made me feel so happy.

September the thirteenth:

My release date has arrived.
Doctor Ruth and the social services have found me a flat...I'm a big girl now daddy!
It's small and tidy,over looking a nice garden.
I'm happy now.
I have to see the Doctor twice a week,just for a chat.
Doctor Ruth is nice,But I don't tell her about the dreams...

Spinks and James,every night doing it to me...laughing at me;and worst of all,after they have finished...

Father would stroll in...

“Not like THAT boys'

Sonia,turn over NOW!”

“Yes daddy.”

September the twenty first:

The social worker,found Sonia;slumped in the shower.
Her red dress went well...with her veins.

Her mourning had ended before it had begun.


Dedicated to Sonia,a dear friend,a talented writer...a victim of abuse...a manic depressive.Who wouldn't be,after her life.
A lifetime sufferer.
The said piece Sonia's mourning was written by Kevin Gallivan.It has been registered as such.

Letting in the night.

Over an endless furrowed field of clouds

The moon turns her blinded eye

The round horizon keeps it's distance

Measuring the limitless,unending sky.

Outside the window night is waiting

Close agaisnt the wall

head bent under a crown of stars

Wrapped in a heavy heavenly shawl.

The other time is here

Turn out the light

Open the window

And let in the night.

Dido 2001

Sunday, May 10, 2009

When evening comes Writing

All the greens that surge and flow,

All the flowers that breathe and grow,

Sleep when evening comes.

Drawing it's lovely cover of clouds,

Over the western sky,

To the outer edges of the open eye,

evening comes.

All the birds that swerve and fly,

From every sad child's lonely cry,

Sleep when evening comes.

Dragging the darkness softly over,

Over the glinting,half shut eye,

Evening comes.

All the curtains safely drawn,

To hide the tears of the still unborn,

Sleep when evening comes.

Closing the shutters against the light,

Over the sleep-smoothed,night-shut eye,

Evening comes.

Written by Dido,July 2000

Recieved a message from David, Dido:you're still in Norway...hope you're fine?

Wednesday, May 6, 2009



A very dear friend who inspired me.
Sadly I haven't seen her for nine years.
A Multiple Sclerosis sufferer,a lady who battled on.
An Artist who lived in London and Norway.
A person I think of regularly:every time I wear the Fur hat she brought back from Norway.
I do so hope you are still with us Dido.

Dido I take the liberty of posting some of your work,that you kindly gave me.

Getting on

Memory slips on the cogwheel of time,
Most of this morning's events have gone away.
Schooldays,young days,repopulate their places,
Happier times relived,and lives more real.

Hearing withdraws into its silent shell,
Leaving her vulnerable,alone,
Echoes of voices,carriage wheels revolving,
Bring her to happier times,to times more real.

Vision becomes another cruel trickster,
Deserts and blurs the scene she knows so well.
The teenage face reflected in her mirror,
Shows her the time ago when all was clear.

Movement slows down,it hesitates and pauses,
Stiffness and pain imprison every nerve,
Jumping the crashing waves,dreamrunning
Over the sunlight sand,she reaches peace.

Written by Dido.
May 2000.

You were a catalyst to me.

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Flying Flip.

Who am I kidding...who gives a flying flip.
You are so scared.
You have to mix with the crowd.

Forget it boy.
You're on your own.
Upset you,did it?

Who gives a flying Flip.
OH...What colour shall I?
Does any body know?
Who gives a flying Flip.

You know who's left.
Yeah,but better be quiet.
Don't want to get banned do we.
Lets be helpful and quiet for a bit.

Don't worry,we can do what we want.
Oh,I don't know.
What colour can I...?
Do I have to change my coat?


Go figure.... head's on our side!

Oh isn't this wonderful
just like our nice villade,in jolly old England....what.

Oh don't talk to them...they arn't in the know.

WHO gives a flying Flip!

Monday, April 27, 2009



Hi,my Christian name is Joseph,but I'm normally given the tag Joe.

I'm what they call an immigrant,never used to be;I used to be someone me,now I have to watch myself. Be careful,keep my eyes open so to speak:although not too open so they notice. I don't want to draw attention now do I...?
Look at them;so bloody confident,walking around as if they own the place,maybe it's their birthright...who knows?
I dislike this country.
I been here three years already. I don't think I'll ever get used to it. Not that I don't try, I do;I can order a coffee,a meal,after all a mans got to eat ain't he.
I must get a job,anything will do,drive a cab,take the bums home,how hard can that be...yes sir,no sir,three bags full sir.

Who's he looking at?
“Something wrong mister?”
What's the matter with me. Look different do I.
“That's it keep moving pal.”
I bet he's got a wife and kids,he doesn't want to mix with the likes of me;that's for damn sure!

A glint of sunshine reflects off a beer can,it attracts my attention for the briefest of moments;I keep myself in check:there's no way I'm going to give these bastards the satisfaction of seeing me grovel in a rubbish bin.
I might be an immigrant but I ain't going that low.
I got to tell you,drink has never been one of my downfalls. But women,that's a different story. Where was I...? Oh yeah,I've got to be at the unemployment office at three thirty.
The clock over the railway station reads two fifty five;the cabs are ranked up all the way up the platform. The drivers remind me of vultures. Look at the bums drinking coffee,eating doughnuts...yeah,I could do that job;no problem.
I leave the station,the ring roads all clogged up,people rushing around;things to do,money to earn mouths to feed. Everyone seems to be important...busy,busy.
I can feel myself slipping.

“Steady Joe,get a grip.”

The old man's words flood back.
I've got to be positive something will turn up,it always does...I hope!
The shop windows are getting ready for Xmas;little fat men dressed in red,swing their hips to a tinny seasonal tune. Flashing lights in gaudy colours,and will you look at that:artificial snow.
These people,what a warped sense of humour they have;it was minus twelve last night ,drunks probably froze to death in shop door ways,and what do these giants do...laugh,that's what.
This is definitely a strange land;my wife's words come back to haunt me.
“Don't worry Joe,everybody speaks English.”
Ha,what a joke,one syllable out of place and it starts,the eyes screw up,the hand goes to the chin;a look of bewilderment spreads over their comprendo!
I check my appearance in the reflection of a shop window,not too bad.
I black coat covers a multitude of sins,not that I'm committing any you understand. I rub my boots up the back of my jeans,to get some sort of shine. I tilt my hat at a slight angle over my right eye;the silk cravat gets a slight rearrangement. The immigrant stares back at me.

“You're looking good Joe.”

My mind focuses.

“Hi Susie,how you doing?”
She gives me a look.
“Not too bad Joe,it could be better,my mother she ain't so good,you know how it is Joe.”
I run my eyes over her compact oriental body,she flicks her jet black hair,from her eyes. Susie looks what she is,a young female worker with not much in the way of employment skills;but she uses what God gave her if you catch my drift.
She lives two floors upstairs from my wife and me,with her ageing mother and two younger brothers.
Susie works the late shift at the Blue Oyster Bar,a shady all night affair,dim lights and saxophone tunes.
She says she's a dancer,who am I to argue.
We smile at each other,both at ease. It felt good to be with your own kind,we knew where we stood,so to speak.

“Joe fancy a beer,just a quick one,what you say?”

I'm tempted,but the interview at the employment office is imminent. She must sense my hesitation.
“Come on Joe,one beer is all,what harm eh?”
Now I think to myself what harm can one little beer do.
“OK Susie just the one,I'm a little short of cash right now,you know how it is.”
She gives me a look straight in the eye.
“Yeah Joe,it sucks,right?”

We duck into a stand up bar,the place is full of Poles,Russians and dusky Mediterranean types.
For the first time that day I feel myself relax.
I scan the bar while she gets the drinks in.
There's no problem here. A scattering of women stand in small groups,they fit the bar perfectly:red nails and lips to match.
A few tables of card players,the jukebox plays a soft melody,safety.
No local types in the place;although they would like to be,that's for sure.
The roles are reversed:it felt good to be in control for a short while.
The cheap neon clock behind the bar reads three twenty,what the hell,I'm not going to get a job of any substance:not with my lack of language abilities...She returns with two beers. Plastic bags of groceries are placed around our feet.

“Still taking good care of your mother,I see.”
My eyes indicate the shopping.
“Yeah Joe,my brothers are too busy at school to help much They got to get education,eh.”

The beers good and cold,just the way I like my drink.
It might seem as though I gripe over this country;but I tell you something,they certainly know a thing or two about beer.
That's not the only thing they're good at. The cakes,let me tell you a fellow has to watch his figure here,cream and sweet stuff;my mouth starts to water,I realise I'm hungry.
I take a look around the joint, a small man at the end of the bar catches my attention,his names Jack or rather that's what I've named him. We've never actually spoken together.
I heard the bartender speaking to him one night in French,at that time in my imagination he became a French foreign legionnaire.
He's what I call a Jack Russell type,small and wiry. He's about sixty or so,he looks extremely fit,a flat stomach and a lived in face. One night I observed him out manoeuvre a much younger man,who had had a little too much to drink:while the younger man was busy at the bar,Jack saw his chance,and moved in on the younger mans girlfriend.
I never found out who left the bar with the woman,but I did notice the barkeep exchange a knowing look with Jack Russell. Fellow country men must stick together I suppose.
The bartender,that's another lived in character,a true Frenchman.
He played rugby for his country so I'm told. He's well over six foot tall,which is tall for a Frenchman. He's solid,there's no other word to describe him,a barrel chest,thick arms with muscles in the right place's. He has a face like a bad boxer,scar tissue around the eyes,a broken nose and an attitude,that tells you to tread easy in his bar.
Some body puts on a rolling stones record;brown sugar belts out: the atmosphere changes. I notice Susie is smiling.
I watch her as she builds a roll up cigarette;nice and fat.

“Hey Susie,take it easy,keep it down.”
She gives me yet another languid smile.
“Relax Joe,is OK.”

Two Turkish youths are playing table football,one of them gives us a friendly nod.
He calls:
“Hey,how's youse doing?”

I give him a nod in return.

“Joe,got a light?”
I slip my Zippo across the damp table. She lights her smoke,this is making me nervous. I steal a glance at the barkeep,he doesn't appear to take any notice.

“Do you know what happened to me at the Post office yesterday,Susie?”
Her liquid brown eyes slowly focussed on mine.

“No Joe,surprise me.”
I always had the feeling that Susie had some private joke going on in her head.
“Well me and Anja.”
I noticed Susie had some confusion.
“Anja my wife.”
She chuckles.
“Yeah Joe,I know your wife,you live downstairs don't you.”
I can sense this ain't going to be easy.
“Anyway listen to this,we were in the post office when all of a sudden,we hear this loud yelling...”

“Come back when you can speak the language!”

“Anja and I look at each other. The entire queue,as one,looks around at the offending person...Susie,there stood an old lady on the edge of tears,and let me tell you this was an inoffensive person here;not some low life out of the slums.
The old lady looks around for a helping hand,and guess who she picks out,yeah you got it muggins here.
Don't know if it was my outfit that day,you know I like to dress up don't you.”
Susie bursts into loud laughter.
“No No,not like that,anyway I'm dressed in my old combat gear,high ankle boots,heavy jacket and my fur hat.
Anyway with all eyes on her,she marches up to me and asks... “Can you speak Russian?” I shake my head.
“Can you speak Rumanian” Again I hopelessly shake my head.
She looks at me with such a look of helplessness,I could of cried for her.
Well Susie,the offending man behind the counter started to look real uneasy;but when he realised that no one in the queue could help the woman,he went straight back to his arrogant self.
I felt like jumping the counter and busting the guy;but Anja gave me the look. I lowered my gaze as everybody else did.
We humbly followed her out of the post office.
I gave the post official a disgusted look.”

Susie gives me a far away look. I realise she hasn't heard a word,or if she has ,the depth of my experience in the post office,hasn't quite sunken in. Or maybe it doesn't mean that much to her. Anja told me only yesterday,
“Loosen up Joe,don't take things so seriously,accept things as they are.”

The saxophone on the jukebox calls my thoughts,a cheap looking woman,heavy in conversation with a sailor in blue serge,looks over his shoulder as he whispers heavy sexual tones in her ear. I catch the look in her eyes,or maybe he's asking,
“What's for dinner tonight?”
I divert my ever decreasing attention to Jack Russell and Pierre the barkeep,they're deep in conversation,probably discussing the Indo China war,where they won their prized medals;or the loss of a comrade in arms,machine gunned out of existence by a yellow man.
A sharp tap on our chrome table snaps me back.

“Want a puff Joe.”
Susie hands me her cigarette.
“I'll get a couple of cold ones.”
She's up in a flash and walking to the bar,before I can leave the Russian woman asking for help.
Capitulation comes easy to me.
I forgot all about the unemployment office.
Anjas words slide over me...Relax Joe,loosen up.
I find myself taking a deep toke on the cigarette,that does it,no more working for me today.
I study Susie's rump,she shifts her weight from one leg to the other,and my eyes follow the movements of flesh as it slides from left to right.
An intense stare draws my subconscious,a scrape of a barstool attracts. I swivel
my attention to the left;Jack Russell's slipping his hunters eyes up Susies legs to her well defined bottom....I feel myself tense,ready for action,the alarm bells are clanging in my head:the submarines preparing to crash dive!
Susie holding two green bottles of cold beer turns,she smiles politely,in that sweet oriental harmless way.
Jack Russell has surely forgotten his comrades in arms,we exchange eye contact,he gives me a toothless grin and a wink,the message he conveys is clear...All's fair in love or War.

“Hey Joe,take it easy,leave some for me.”

I realise I've nearly finished Susie's smoke.
The two Turkish boys observe Susie and me,closely waiting for their chance,no doubt. We clink bottles.
“Cheers Susie.”
Thank's for the beer.
Unsaid words flow from my head to my mouth;they don't quite make it.
We look at each other and start to giggle;Jack Russell squirms on his stool,ever watchful,hunter saliva trickles from his mouth.
A pair of hyenas in the shape of Turkey,playing pool,waiting for their share of the Chinese take away,number forty two please,plenty chilli sauce.
I start to feel nervous with all these foreign type's,paranoia is getting to me.

“We had better go after these ones.”
Susie leans back in her chair and smiling cheekily replies.
“relax Joe,I got money OK.”
I feel a surge of panic run through my veins.
The thought hits me... “Does she think I'm a whore,I'm not for sale,I'm married for Christ's sake.”I shift uneasily,I feel the bartender watching us.
The picture of an oriental woman and an European flash into my head,a helicopter is hovering in the bar,a search light is directed into my face, a foreign tongue,screams at me.
“How's Anja Joe?”
I look at Susie,the ceiling fan slowly lapping the air.
The cigarette smoke disperses.
One of the Turkish boy's laughs innocently over a missed shot.
“Oh. She's fine,yeah real good.”
Susie gives me a look,and drains the last drops of her beer.
Jack Russell watches and waits.
“My brothers tell me,she real good teacher;that right Joe?”

I get the feeling I need to use the rest room,forget it I tell myself.
If these jokers in here think I'm leaving Susie alone for even One minute,they're mistaken.
“Come on Susie let's go.”
She silently obeys my command,our coats are put on,bags of groceries collected.
I cover her back as we leave the bar.
“Ciao Joe.”
I glance back at the Frenchman,slightly taken off guard.
I reply,I must pay attention,a man never knows when an attack may happen.

“Friendly men,eh Joe.”
I acknowledge Susie's innocence with a begrudged grin.
“Yeah,Susie real friendly...”
Tricky fellows these foreigners springs to mind.
A blast of Arctic wind hit's us smack in the Kisser,Christ this country,one minute it's a beautiful sky blue day and then wham the night screams in...dark and ice cold.
As we approach the curbside I shout a warning...
“Watch the cycles.”
Susie draws up smartish,as a gaggle of old fashioned Dutch bikes narrowly miss her. She had forgotten about the cycle laws of the land,and their obvious right of way.
A police car draws slowly to a halt,I observe the blond driver,her eyes a sharp eastern block blue. I notice her large breasts trying to burst through her brown uniform shirt.I wonder aloud...
“Why on earth would a blond centre fold want to drive a police cruiser?”
I notice her partner giving Susie and me the once over,his cap pulled low on his forehead.
“Give him a pair of mirror sunglasses,Susie.”
I look down at my companion,she hasn't heard a word.
I glance around at the other people waiting with us,no one responds.
“That's it,keep your nose clean.”
The green pedestrian light flashes,we cross the busy intersection to the trolley bus depot. I notice the police grinning at each other,I realise what a comical pair Susie and I must make.
A tall dark haired gangster and his moll,my head and neck shrink into my overcoat.
Susie makes to get on a number four.
“Hey,what you doing,we only live three blocks away.”
I give into Susie's tugging.
“come on Joe,we don't need ticket,is only two stops.”
I have a vision of the blond cop waiting for us;legs apart,a pistol hanging from her belt...and those massive breasts.
“OK Susie,you're in charge.”
We board the trolley car,a loud clanging of a bell,heralds our depature.
The car is crowded,other immigrants going home after a hard days toil.
A man of possible Mongolian descent occupies the seat opposite us,he doesn't hide the fact,he wants the woman I'm with.
His intent is obvious to me,I sharpen up,the fur hat he's wearing looks heavy,his eyes start to droop.

“It's just as well for you Susie,a horse has more value than you.”

The trolley bus draws to a halt,Susie looks at me aghast.
“Better leave the smoke alone Joe,it changes you for the worst.”
She hisses this statement at me:I look around for a cop.
We walk the first hundred metres in silence,I take in the tree lined street;tall old fashioned houses shower my mind with Gothic beauty,the ornamental stone work and small balconies caress my fuddled thoughts.
“Beautiful houses,what you think Joe,lucky to live here,aren't we?”
Once again Susie astonishes me with her eastern philosophy;her thinking is mirror like and stark.
I loosen up.
“Yeah Susie,I guess you're right,it's a terrific area we live in.”
We once again relax with one another.
“Tell me Joe,how come these old buildings didn't get bombed.”
I give a little chuckle with good humour,I'm not going to upset her again:not this close to home.
“I think they were Susie. After the war,over eighty percent of the city was rebuilt;although you wouldn't realise that now,would you.”
Susie looks at me with a look of disbelief.
“You kidding me Joe?”
I tread lightly once more,I can see the owner of our apartment building;sweeping the pavement,keeping a check on his area of the country. I reassure her.
“No,I'm not joking Susie;when you get a chance,pop into the library,go to the history section:they have stacks of photographs,it's well documented,I think there's even a shot of our street. I tell you Susie they had the life bombed out of them;the whole place was practically annihilated.
Probably explains their attitude eh.”

Susie checks me out,and seems to accept my story.
“I didn't know how much this city suffered,that's what I mean Joe,you and your wife are so intelligent,you notice things...”

I got to tell you,I softened right up,like marzipan;once again,one soft feminine word,and I'm straight back to childhood.
We stop and look at each other,I give her a peck on the cheek.
“Thanks Susie,you're real sweet.”
She seems to notice something in my eye.
“What's the matter Joe?”
Over her shoulder the house master observes his tenant's.
I catch the look in his eyes;I have to tell you,up until now,I've never realised how much animosity and dislike my place of birth has caused some people.
I mean,what can I do? Drain my blood,change my Caucasian,get a new Father perhaps;anyway the negative thoughts leave my head,I can feel Susie's hesitation. I take her hand,I whisper reassuring words...
“Come on Susie,what can he do,throw us out on the streets for being different.”

He stands there.
Hands clasped over his precious broom handle,his pot belly protruding over his thick leather belt. He looks over his wire rimmed spectacles..
“Guten Abend.”
Susie and I chant.
He replies in his guttural tongue.
Susie and me scramble through the large double wooden doors to safety.
As the door slams shut,we break into laughter as two children,who've just got away with a naughty deed.

“Oh Joe isn't he strange,did you see the look he gave us?”
I put my finger to my lips,a vision of the fat old man listening at the keyhole,flashes across my cinema screen.
We stand in his old fashioned marble hall. A collection of the tenants bicycles lean both sides of the hallway. I notice a speck of oil underneath my Dutch classic;I remember Anja telling me only last week:he the house master told her to make sure I cleaned up after my self.
I rub the offending oil stain with the toe of my boot.

Susie gets impatient and rings the bell for the old fashioned lift.
“Come on,what's keeping you?”
“Relax Susie,it's old and grumpy like you know who.”
I nod back at the door,this sets her off again,laughter peels upwards,echoing as a church bell.
“Ssch” I tell her.
A loud whirring sound tells us the lifts on it's way.

“I like this house Susie,it's like something out of an old French film.”
She looks at me as though I'm making a joke.
“It is old Joe! And it creaks,and why can't we have a proper lift with doors,you know,closed in,then I would feel safe.”
I pull open the black lattice gate.
“come on Susie it's safe,just watch out for your fingers,that's all.”
I usher her and the plastic bags into the open cage. The cables whirr. We both watch the wooden stairs spiral around us.
“It makes me dizzy Joe.”
I check her out,does she mean the lift I wonder. I decide not to answer and let it go.
As we reach the third floor I can hear the sounds of Carmen,coming from my apartment.
“Sounds like Anja's home Joe.”
I pull the gate open and give Susie a wink...
“You going to be alright with those bags Susie?”
A voice from above answers for her...
“come on Susie,we got work to do.”
Two cheeky teenagers peer over the banister rail.
Susie ignores her brothers.
“Hey Joe,bring Anja out one night,we have good meal,what you say eh.”
I wave up to her family,her mother has also come out onto the landing.
“Hey Joe.”
A crinkly happy face smiles down at me.
“hello,how are you all?”

I hear the front doors open,I quickly close the lift gate;the lift ascends with a creak.
“See you Susie,thanks for the beer.”
I wave up to my neighbours,and make my escape into my apartment. I can feel the house master lurking three floors below,scowling over the oil stain.
The casserole I prepared earlier wafts down the hall,I check myself and remove my boots.
Anjas the most tolerant woman I know,but when it comes to her original wooden floors,she has a tendency to yell.
My slippers await me,I take a look around,I have to admit the fact;she has good reason to be proud. Almostt single handed she's restored this large five roomed apartment to it's original granduar.
Not that I'm helpless with a hammer you understand...but when it comes to handicraft,I prefer the kitchen.
Well I reason to myself,every man has his forte.
A voice sings from the living heart swells.
“I'm in here Joseph”
As I walk down the hall the reflection of a retired gangster,smiles at me,from the full sized mirror encased in gold leaf. I pop my head around a potted fern stretching for the sky.

“Hello Sugar.”
Her green eyes and full lips answer at the same time,for a split second no words are needed. She presents the picture of a female wolf,relaxing in her lair.
Her legs are drawn up under her,as she lounges on the dark leather chesterfield,a glass of wine in her hand. Her mouth slides into a sensual smile.

“Hello Darling,I've been waiting for you:how are you?”
I think...God,this woman has so much power. I feel my veins fill with rich dark blood,for a moment I'm helpless.
“I've been helping Susie.”
I stammer,she gives me an understanding look.
“Would you like a drink Joseph,you look as though you need one.”
She indicates the wine bottle standing on the table.
“Joseph,a question,why do you call her Susie? I don't know how you get away with it. You know she's called Wo-lee,and the thing is,she never corrects you.”
I fill my glass and give her my best cheeky little boy look.
“Give me a kiss,sugar.”
She doesn't resist.
She holds her hand up;I wait for a telling off.
Wo-lee and her husband work very hard in their restaurant,I just think you should give her a bit more respect.”
I duck the sentence.
“Yeah,your right Anja,she asked us out for a meal by the way.”
She relaxes,that's better,I don't need an argument.
“Joseph,why are you wearing my Fathers hat and coat,you look like an actor out of a B movie,in the eastern sector.”
I feel awkward,her Fathers been dead four years now,but I know how deep the pain is for my best friend...deep.

“Sorry Anja,but you know how much I love this coat,it's extremely warm...Your Father had good taste.”
I notice her fingers tighten on the wine glass;my mind sharpens up,I wouldn't hurt this lady for the world,I stroke her cheek...
“I love you Anja.”
She smiles a warm smile.
“I know Joseph”
She kisses my nose.
The atmosphere calms.
“I won't be a minute.”

I escape to the wardrobe and hang up the offending hat and coat.
I feel so insensitive.
I could kick myself,why didn't I think first I ask my slow brain.

“Joseph,I bought you some new ink cartridges,they are on your desk.”
I hear the tone in her voice...thank God,I must pay more attention to my wife.
I go back into the room.
“How was your day Anja?”
She loosens up.
“Good you know,well ,you know full of eager youngsters,not wanting to learn too much,but good.
And your day Joseph,how was your day,what have you been doing;apart from Susie that is.”
The joke strikes me...I take it.
“I've been checking it out,you know the area,the people,talking,taking things know.”
Anja gives me a knowing look.

“Playing or working Joe,no don't tell me,Susie was a prostitute and you were her pimp.
And I suppose you played the Russian,who couldn't speak the language.”
I started to laugh...
“ I think you know me well Anja...but I'm lucky,playing,working it's all the same...writers are allowed some lee-way no.”

“And teachers also need to play...we'll eat later shall we.”

Gott sei Dank...I am alive!

Said piece was written by Kevin Gallivan as has been registered as such.

Friday, April 24, 2009

Fellow Free Tinkers.

Hello friends....

Just a quick message....

David,you have my permission to use my scribbles,in any way you see fit.

Patrick,how are you mate? You once said to me one fine Friday morning;and I quote: "Kevin,if you need any help:don't hesitate to ask."...Patrick,Nine years later,I'm asking...David knows how to contact me.
Oh,Rhodesia is dead,Zimbabwe struggles on.

Dido,I sincerely hope that you are still with us...if you are,I pray the pain is not too great.I will remember your kind words to me....until the day I die...God bless you.

Heather,how are you love...get in touch...and finish that vicar story...made me laugh!

Jo,I'm in France,come and see me,and don't take my accent joke to heart...I have a big mouth.

Sue,are you well...David told me you had a result on the Radio...come on, tell me all.

I miss you people!


Take care now.



Good day to ya all.

I read a post on a Forum...made me think...thank you...
Sorry if I hurt you...I have a big mouth...Point taken...Sorry.

My head goes up my...Anyway you know who I'm talking to....Sorry.


You have standing,your in the Army now.
Your wife has been a bad girl...Don't judge.
She has a child...Foreign blood in the family..oh dordi.
Child number two has to pay right.
Can't be too hard on number one,can we.
Your a big your standing see.
Number two says Flip this,I'm going AWOL.
Now what do the officers do.
That's it...send the Father,to fetch the son.
Father makes his naughty girl pay,all her life.
Makes HIS son pay,all his life.
Bloody shame.
Father says to number two's son;on his deathbed...
“Hark at the blackbird boy.
Enjoy your life boy.
I been a bad boy son.
I treat yor Dada,not right.”
Number two son.
On his deathbed.

Made me pay they did.
Done some bad things in my life boy.
Still see the kids bloody face,child.
I ain't well,boy.
Not one of them,are you?
Too sensitive for your own good.
Toughen up!
Got to close my eyes now Boy.”

Scenario 2

Your the duty officer...bloody tired.
A soldier falls asleep.
Court martial.
Duty officer pleads for the soldier.
Death punishment!
Officers decree...You pleaded for his life.
YOU will carry out the punishment.
Seventy four years later.
You hold your Iron cross.
You say to your granddaughter on your Deathbed.
“I feel so ashamed...Good lord...what have I done.”


You are fourteen.
You live five hundred meters across the border.
You should be having fun.
Hitler sends you to hell!

That's no place for a young soul.
You carry a water can...and a gun.
Welcome to the harsh world.
Your officer,fears for your young blood.
“Boy,go in the NOT come back...that's an order.”
You're lucky,Ivan treats you as a child....

You can go home.
It's a long walk to your mum and dad.
No hard feelings.
Your innocence is gone.
Sorry about your bruises and pain.
Spread the word boy.
WAR,Killing is wrong!

Forty years later after teaching your's your time.

“Enjoy,my child...what you have.”

Scenario 4

Three schoolmates.
One is happy.
One is angry.
One is confused.
All are in their eighties.
Dinner at the Marie.
Angry says to happy.
“Your a PIG!”
Happy says.
“What's your problem?”
Confused says.
“What's happening Kevin?”

Mr Angry,has cancer.
Mr Happy has cancer.
Mr confused has dementia.

Mr angry had to go to Germany...Forced Labour.
Mr happy had to go Germany...Forced Labour.
Mr confused had to go to Germany...Forced Labour.

My wife returns to the table.

Mr angry is happy.
Mr happy is happy.
Mr confused is happy.

Mr happy says.
“A Tommy and ein Fraulin.”
Mr angry says.
“Ca va?”
Mr confused says.
“We're lucky....We're still alive!”

I have many feelings.
I have many regrets.

Bye bye.

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Dear Mum 2 Writing.


Ello mum,well we got here alright,Hera was right it is like Spain.
Oops,manners,Governor says manners maketh man.

Start again...How are you mum?
How are your legs,still hurtin you?
It'll be alright mum,maybe you can come and live with us,when we settle down.

It's good here mum,we're camping on a big site near the Sea. There ain't many people here...fact is there's only us four,the bar keep,and an old geezer who's the caretaker. It's out of season see,Hera says that's how the Governor likes it,nice and quite like.
We got up early today,went fishing,me,Hera and governor. Down the beach at five a clock,missus didn't come,Hera says she needs her beauty sleep...don't really understand cos she's lovely.
Lots of stuff I don't understand mum,but I'm learning ,I'm a quick learner,guv says.
While Governor was fishing me and Hera,mucked around,barked at the waves,chased seagulls...cor Hera can run like the wind,bloody fast she is.
Guv caught somefink,he was all excited he went... “Whoa,got yer,cum on then.”...he gets all funny when he catches somefink,me and Hera stood and watched then she said,come on Nero boy,lets run in the water.
Yeah that was good fun.
We used to go nearly everyday in Spain mum...but we got chased by the poo lice one day and Guv said we'd better be careful,missus said “enough,you three,you'll end up in Nick”...Guv looked at me and smiled...we didn't go fishing after that.
What happened see...guv and us used to get up at all hours,go down the beach. While me and Hera played Guv used to bang wood into the sand,just out in the sea a little bit,roll out a long line with hooks on,bang another piece of wood in..and that was it...cum back later and if we was lucky had some fish...nothing wrong in that is there.
Anyway one morning real early,Guv shouts “Oi,you two,in the motor,quick” great fun mum.
Guv drove over the sand real fast,bang crash,wallop;Hera was looking out the back window...there was another truck,same as ours,but green and white with a flashing light on top...Guardia Civil mum.
I thought,Oh no,we're for it now.
But guv's a brilliant driver mum,Hera was laughing,so was the Guv,I sometimes wonder about those two.
Anyway we bumped,and swerved,drove through the water,seagulls chasing us,poo lice chasing us...we made it into Conil village and guv parked up behind the big supermarket...he was laughing mum,all excited he was.

Anyway we lived to see another day...just.
Ain't short of fun wiv my new family mum.

We drove up yesterday,through Extremadura,nice trip,jollying along.
The Missus was driving me and Hera in the van,Governor followed in his Truck..
Anyway missus is German,and Guv says she has concrete boots...we drove through the country side,pleasant it was. We just came out of Aljeeo village,Guv was way back,on account of he drives to the speed limit...Hera said “oh,oh” and nudged me in the ribs...missus was singing,arm hanging out the window,radio full blast...Out he steps...Black shiny boots,tight green pants,leather GUN belt,tight muscle shirt, mirror sunglasses,cap pulled down low...Hand held high!

Missus yells “Scheisse”.

Hera says to I don't know...”Oh fiddle...Guardia civil again.”

Missus pulls over,and gives him her Bette Davis Look.

“Hello officer” in German!

He snarled.

Hera whispered. “Here we go Nero boy just follow me.”
Along side the van,came cop two...Fat little git,greasy,scruffy uniform...I could smell the garlic on his yellow breath. He slid to the side door and yanked it open..


Hera and me screamed at him,teeth barred,foam spitting over him,Hera looked wicked,mum...don't fink I came across as winnie the poo either.
He didn't know we had our seat belts on...he fell over on his bum, mum.

Macho cop ran round,shut the door quick like.
Just then Guv came running up;and said to fat boy “oh Senhor,many apologies,are you alright,bloody dogs,I'll give them what for”...and started to undo his belt...Oh Mum,I thought not again,and piddled.
Hera giggled and whispered “You watch this.”

Cop one and two,lit the cigarettes Guv gave them.
Missus said in German... “What's the matter sugar?”

Governor shrugs his shoulders,pats fat cop on the shoulder,and says to cop one.... “She can't speak Spanish yet,we just got married,we're going to see my old grandmother know.”
Missus smiled at the Guardia civil...cutely.

Well everything was OK.
The Cop said, “You Spanish,you have a different accent?”
“No.” says Guv. “My family comes from the Frontier area.”
The Cop looks uneasy.
“You not Basque Terrorist,I hope.”
It was a joke was alright...Nada problemo!

When we got up the road,Guv overtook us and waggled his finger at the missus...she stuck her tongue out!
It's good here mum.
Got to go now...we're having a cook out.
Can't miss me grub.
Your loving son:Nero boy.

Written by Kevin Gallivan and has been registered as such.

Sunday, April 19, 2009

Chinese whispers

Hi there ya all,hot dang dat was a Sunday!

Have you apologised yet?

I'm going to digress....Whoa...

Quotation of Charlie Brooker.
All credits to him and his style.

"In the debate sparked by my gibberish outpouring, it wasn't long before rival posters began speculating about the size of their opponent's dicks. It led me to wonder - has the world of science ever investigated a casual link between penis size and male political leaning?

I'd theorise that, on the whole, rightwing penises are short and stubby, hence their owners' constant fury. Lefties, on the other hand, are spoiled for length, yet boast no girth whatsoever - which explains their pained confusion. I flit from one camp to the other, of course, which is why mine's so massive it's got a full-size human knee in the middle. And a back. A big man's back.

Anyway, if we must debate things online, we might as well debate that. It's not like we'll ever resolve any of that other bullshit, is it?

Click. Mine's bigger than yours. Click. No it isn't. Click. Yes it is. Click. Refresh, repost, repeat to fade."

Old ones are the good ones Charlie boy!

Any way back to Topic:

Now I know I stated "Bullies" yucky poo poo.....BUT....

CHINESE WHISPERS.....Ooooo double yucky poo poo.

Now bullies are obnoxious,horrible specimens....right Attila?

The people who spread rumours to discredit,you know the type...

"I don't want to speak out of school,like...but you know Galli....Sssss,Wat ever."

Gasp..."No,he's not working for them is he?"....

"I eard he had a bad he working?"....

"My,I heard he had a massive dick."....."Well you know what they say about big cars,don't you."....

"No....oh please tell....when hubby rips off the next person,he said I'll get a BIG one."

"You know what colour he painted..."

"NO!Well if there's no know wat they say,Rats don't...."

"I eard he opened a window...just as cock Robbin flew... bye."

Blowing their whistles...they followed the pied piper...Who called the tune..."Oh,You wanna be in my gang....Well do you."....NOT too camp is it?

Chinese whispers....not nice...bullies....not nice....threats......Will NOT be Tolerated!

Thursday, April 16, 2009

Thought,Quote for today.

"There's no point debating anything online. You might as well hurl shoes in the air to knock clouds from the sky. -- Charlie Brooker"

"There's no point debating anything online. You might as well hurl shoes in the air to knock clouds from the sky. The internet's perfect for all manner of things, but productive discussion ain't one of them. It provides scant room for debate and infinite opportunities for fruitless point-scoring: the heady combination of perceived anonymity, gestated responses, random heckling and a notional "live audience" quickly conspire to create a "perfect storm" of perpetual bickering.

Stumble in, take umbrage with someone, trade a few blows, and within about two or three exchanges, the subject itself goes out the window. Suddenly you're simply arguing about arguing. Eventually, one side gets bored, comes to its senses, or dies, and the row fizzles out: just another needless belch in the swirling online guffstorm.

But not for long, because online quarrelling is also addictive, in precisely the same way Tetris is addictive. It appeals to the "lab rat" part of your brain; the annoying, irrepressible part that adores repetitive pointlessness and would gleefully make you pop bubblewrap till Doomsday if it ever got its way. An unfortunate few, hooked on the futile thrill of online debate, devote their lives to its cause. They roam the internet, actively seeking out viewpoints they disagree with, or squat on messageboards, whining, needling, sneering, over-analysing each new proclamation - joylessly fiddling, like unhappy gorillas doomed to pick lice from one another's fur for all eternity."


All credit to the Author....power to your pen.

Hey David...You are checking me aren't you...NOT missing London Mate!

Guten Morgen,bist du im urlaub? Weil ich nicht von dir gehört habe.Ich möchte mein fahrrad verkaufen,das holländische! Hast du lust/interesse?...E-Mail Mich.

Happy today? Writing.

Happy today are YOU?

Two valuble souls have departed....

Oh you are so brave!

Hiding in the bush.

Firing your arrows.

Straight to their hearts!

Who killed cock Robin?

Look in the mirror.

You shame LESS....

You make me so angry.

The pain they are now feeling.



Come on comment...or are you going to hide in your bushes?

Monday, April 13, 2009

Ideas from Films & experiences

Whoa,that was a weekend that was...Made me reflect,check out my head!
Read a banal statement,can't quote...wasn't that good,along the lines of..."Give me the child and I'll return the man"...."If they had been in care all their learning years,they would have turned out alright"...I thought, WHAT!

Made me think a bit...

Ever watched the film...."Sleepers"?

A Film I watched recently..."Deliverance."

You know the one...Banjo tunes,woods,rape.

Made me reflect....

And you know what BANG A story just up and popped out!

I know a thing or two regarding these two subject matters...up early tomorrow folks...keys a clacking.

PS I mentioned in a story a sibling;I'm not going to mention the other five until a later keep them locked away for a bit.

Gotta go,early rise tomorrow.

Bye bye ya all.

Friday, April 10, 2009



Well as it's Easter,you're going to have to wait for it.
Got things to do,chickens to buy,wood to know how it is...don't you?

Which brings me onto the video,you dear reader...yes YOU.

The man died.
He had a family.
They are grieving.
Have you never loved someone?
Have you never looked past their immediate persona?
Why does someone act as they do.

Come on look at yourself.


Perhaps needed a teeny bit of help...Eh..what you think.

Before one adopts a position.
Look in the mirror.

Now,why would you be so hostile.

Are worried about your own misdemeanour's?
Do You have a conscience?

Come; a bit of compassion.
Gobbing off on a public forum.
Think of the victim.
Think of his family.
Think also of the perpetrator.
He has a family also.


Good Samaritan.
Turn the other cheek.

And ask yourself...why would anyone act like that.

YOU...think before you gob.

“Remember,boy,you don't strike the Sarg.”

I digress...that's another story.

Bye bye.

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

Here we we go. Writing.

Here we we go,here we go.

Right then YOU lot.

Have no fear,I'm not going to attack,cajole,bully,name or shame you.
Unless you're out of order or challenge me!

Now first off...I'm an active member of France forums,well you know that already don't you.
I follow other bloggers,if I find them interesting,amusing or they tickle my fancy.

As one of them stated,Forums can sometimes have humourless members... “Right of Attila the Hun.” Types.

As another one stated... “Dodgy people.”

Well,lets be very clear here....I am sitting to the left of Attila...Am I dodgy...No,well I don't think so.

But there is one attribute which I absolutely detest,and that is ...wait for it...Bullying!
Wont have it...No,no,no.
YOU are reading this aren't you?

Bloody hell,I hear you say,dear reader.

Well why on earth would you say/feel that.

Imagine you are young,doesn't matter,lets say four or five. Your having a normal type of day,annoying your brothers and sisters. The house is a mess,you scavenge some grub,Dad's on the early shift...Mum's out,a normal day


“Where's your bloody Mother?”

Now this is where a big brother comes in handy,well he has to answer,take the rap so to say.

“She's down the cafe,with uncle Bill.”

Whoa...Here's Johnny.

Off we go,this is fun,all of us..very angry cuckold man,scruffy,snotty nosed brats...the bloody clan,great spectacle for the neighbours...not so good for uncle bloody Bill.
I still can see and hear the pit boots striking the cobbles.
Oh dear oh dear,sparks are going to fly today...not Friday is it.
Anyway off we march,the Gallivans,Mrs Jones,old jock and Ted.
As we neared the “Cherry pie” I could feel the tension building...bloody great...a punch there's a rare thing.
The glass door flew open,froth flew off the coffee,Elvis asked if I was lonely tonight.
Oh dear,you should of seen mams face.
Uncle Bill,didn't seem too aware...Dad soon put that right.
Weren't no quick response units in those days...done the deed boy,then don't expect no help,right.
Anyway a right old tear up ensued,bit of screaming,a tad of red stuff flying about,bunch of teddies shouting didn't need no encouragement,he was off mate...full blown temper tantrum...well he had his standing in t'village see,no harm in that is there.
Well you should of seen the look on me brothers face,when uncle Bill sailed through the cafe front window...SUPER...I knew straight away I'd love cowboy films,saloon fights...I was hooked.
Couldn't see Mam,she was under the table some where.
I never understood folk, when they pull a right stroke and then get all shook up... “Do the deed,pay the price.” Easy rule to follow,no?
Must have affected us nippers though,big brothers always been a player,must be in the blood,me I love a scrap,must be in the blood eh.

Anyway,I digress.
The “Cherry pie” was a right ta do,manager said we was banned.
Uncle Bill got one last taste of Dads boot,alright I'll be honest,we all had a little dig...well you would,wouldn't you.

Off we go. Dad said “come on,lets get some grub eh” Yeah we all chanted...chippie dad,yeah lets go.
Bloody hell,when I think back...good old days,eh.

“Hello Don,finished early is it.”
That was auntie Jackie,we all seem to be related,cousins,family...oh well.
We had our chips,so to speak. Jackie always give us extra,fat Mick the owner never said owt.
When we got home Dad sent us to bed he looked tired,Mam never come home that night...fact is I didn't see her for another fourteen years,didn't bother me...bothered me brother though...big time.
Told me uncle Bill and his brothers came round,I didn't hear em.
I remember the train journey up to Kent,though.
Puffing through those valleys,head out the window,smoke streaming down train...Dad sat in corner...didn't say much.

I'll continue my boyhood later.

Oh yeah if any of you right of Attila want to attack....ask it worth it real...or a story?

Bye bye.

Written by Kevin Gallivan,and has been registered as such.

Say Why Jay. Writing.

Say Why Jay.

I remember when you first came up.
Big Cardiff boy through and through.
Say why J.
You had to be so tough.

You called yourself Peggy.
Boy could you scrap.
Say why J.
Did the Polio leave your nerves so twisted.

Certainly were the cock of the walk.
Abused what God had blessed you with.
Say why J.
Why did you enjoy pain so much.

You despised your Father because he was a Jock.
Your family you had little time.
Say why J.
Why did you shame them so.

You have your wish you are now infamous.
The village will never forget or forgive.
Say why J.
Your family,impossible for them to stay.

You know now you have to pay.
You said “If I knew then what I know now.”
Say why J.
I still can't understand.

You are a disgrace.
A car park for a grave.
Say why J.
What ever made you do it.

Your crimes are thought of nearly every day.
So heinous was your crime.
Say why J.
Help me understand.

A child is a gift.
Two much more so.
Say why J.
Was it your last revenge.

A can.
A bloody spark.
Say why J.
Say why .
Say why .


They say I'm a Christian.
That I must forgive
I really try.

You've tried the patience.

Of all the saints.

Goodbye J.

I will try.

The said piece "Say Why Jay" Was written by Kevin Gallivan and has been registered as such.

Dear Mum 1 Writing

Dear mum,advisable to read in a deep "Arthur Mullard" type voice.

Hello mum.
Sorry I haven't wrote before but the governor and me been working on me education.
I know that you can't read mum,but the helpers can read this letter to you.

After siesta,knowing you lazybones.

I know that it must of upset you mum when I left.
Please forgive me,I didn't have a choice see. It happened so quickly.

Oh dear, I'd better start at the beginning.

It was a Saturday afternoon round about four O clock.
As usual you were having your nap.
I was out in the yard trying to keep my head down.
Stay out of trouble,like you told me to.

Cor that weren't so easy,
I don't to this day know why they hated me so much.
I mean I did as you said
“Don't answer back,say yes Sir.
Three bags full Sir.”
Didn't seem to do much good though;I was always getting picked on.
Well anyway, I must of upset Pablo the worker,cause he called me...held out some bread...then threw a bucket of water over me..!
I must of upset him.

Made me cry,mum.

I took me self off,down the back of the compound.
I was only there for a bit, when that bitch,Sally the Labrador found me.
She was with her cronies,Jock the terrier and Butch that ex pug.
Well they did their usual...nipping me round back where I had me know.
She just laughed and encouraged her boys.
I ran mum,head down and scarpered.
As I scooted past the admin shack,where they admit the new boys and girls,I spied Carlos the boss. He was standing talking to some bloke...well cos I was in a hurry like,being chased and all...I didn't pay attention.
Crash...I collided with Carlos.

He was always nice to me,mum.
He just give me that Julio Iglesias smile of his,and gave me a cuddle.
That stopped Sally and her gang.
They started whistling,pretending nothing had happened.

Well anyway,Carlos was talking to a Forigin bloke,spoke Spanish,but a bit hard to comprendo.
He said...
“I want a yard dog really,some one to protect Hera.”
Carlos he looked at Diablo.
You know mum that mad bulldog that was chained up in the muzzle(Scary,that one).
The bloke said “no,what about this big chap.”
I looked around,listening... crafty like.
And Carlos chucked me under the chin.
He meant me mum,big chap,me...all twenty kilos!
Well,Carlos sang my praises mum...I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

“No,he's as good as gold,Senor.”
No mention was made of my little problem,you know,when I get nervous and piddle.
So the bloke says,right oh...he's lovely...and know what mum,he smiled at eyes...I had a little accident;but no one seemed to notice.

Well anyway,off we go to admin.
They all had to sign some papers or somfing.
The foreign bloke(guvnor),held my shoulders and stroked me...quite unusual really,only you and Carlos were nice to me.
They put a collar on me,not a new one,but still a day Governor and his missus(Monika) took us to the pet shop and got me a brand new one...
They even let me choose,a red one mum!

Anyway I'm getting off the point again,you always said I was a dreamer didn't you.
Point is mum,I'm married!
We're up in Extremadura in a camping van...camping.
We're going on a trip,off to a place called Portugal.
Hera says it's like Spain,she hasn't been,she's only a year older than me...says I'm her toy boy.
She comes out with some stories,she does.
Governor says she's a pedigree,that's why she's so clever.
Hera says she's a princess.
I got to stop writing now mum,we have to go for our to say mum this is smashing,we all live together in the van,muck around.
No one hurts me anymore mum!

I'll write as soon as we get there mum.
Take care love you mum.

Your everlasting boy Nero xxx.

PS I weigh 46 kilos now,you should see the grub I put away.

The said piece "Dear Mum" Was written by Kevin Gallivan and has been registered as such.

Fish cakes for tea. Writing


Come on Don,wake up love.
You're falling out your chair,silly boy.
Let's straighten you up.
Wipe that dribble shall I.
That's it,fishcakes for tea.
You like them don't you,all mashed up."

I'll give you bloody fishcakes.
I used to be sombody,me.
Look at me now, can't talk, have to be flippen fed, shit meself...God, what happened to me.
I was a bit of a lad,I was;got about a bit.
Ha,that's a laugh,got about a bit:I was all over the place.

Cor me and old Chalky White,he was a boy.Killed himself on Sturry Hill,straight through Dr Mac's wall he went.
They said it was instant,I don't know...
Ton-up boys eh.
I'll make a ton I reckon,don't know how old I am now though;bugger this...DAMN,DAMN!

Look at that photo,that's me that is,in me battle dress;just signed up,green as grass I was.Good looking though.
Clark Gable type I was.
Now look,I've wet myself again.
Where are you mum,you wouldn't give me fishcakes would yer.
Bugger I miss her,she's the one I should of married.
Don't even know if I am married.
Do I have kids...I don't know...hope I told em that I love them.

She was a girl she was.
Having it off we were.
What was her name,old Smiffys wife,what was she called...Molly,that's it,good old Molly.
She liked a laugh she did.
Old man didn't like it though;read me the riot act on that one he did:old bastard.

My dad hated me.Said I was a no-good,just cause he was a R.S.M.
Got me stripes though; that showed him.
Suez,Aden,where was it...can't remember.
I can See his face though;bloody kid. I didn't know see, the noise, the smoke.
God I was scared!
Forgot my training,that's all...short bursts tap,tap,tap.
What did I do...sprayed the bloody place,first one in see...I didn't mean it,all the noise,yelling,screaming...bloody kids face...haunts me he does.
Shit,I was only a kid myself.
What did the Captain say.

"Good job sargeant.Can't be helped old chap.Move on."

Stood on a toy on the way out,I was so scared.

"Sit up Don,tea's nearly ready.Phew,had an accident have you?
Come on,don't cry,you're a big boy now.
Let me wipe those tears,that's it.
Chin up old man."

Chin up,alright for you.
Can't get nothing up no more.
When will this end.
Who's she.
Who she waving at,don't know her.
Must be a new girl.
Wonder what class she's in.
Might see her later in the playground...or behind the bike shed.

Used to be a bit of a lad me.

I'll shut me eyes,that always works,think I'm asleep they do.

"Shut that row up Molly.
All that caterwauling,it's enough to wake the dead.

Don,wake up Don.
Got your tea,fishcakes love.


Sister bring the trolly,old Dons popped off.


RIP Dad.

The said piece "Fish cakes for Tea" Was written by Kevin Gallivan and has been registered as such.

Said tale is in regard of my Fathers death,last year.
It is supposed to convey the feelings/emotions of Dementia

Sad to see a truly gentle man regrees to an angry/bitter child.