Who am I kidding...who gives a flying flip.
You are so scared.
You have to mix with the crowd.
ME...na...
Protection?
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?
WHO GIVES A F...
WHO GIVES A F...
WHO KILLED COCK ROBIN.
WHO GIVES A F...!
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 set...you know.
WHO gives a flying Flip!
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Monday, April 27, 2009
JOE THE IMMIGRANT...WRITING
JOE THE IMMIGRANT.
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.
“God.”
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 face...no comprendo!
I check my appearance in the reflection of a shop window,not too bad.
I think.my 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.
“cheerio.”
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 room...my 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 in..you 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.
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.
“God.”
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 face...no comprendo!
I check my appearance in the reflection of a shop window,not too bad.
I think.my 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.
“cheerio.”
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 room...my 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 in..you 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!
Kevin.
Take care now.
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!
Kevin.
Take care now.
Feelings,regrets...DEATHBED!
Feelings,regrets...DEATHBED!
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.
Scenario1
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 shot...got 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.
Feelings.
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.”
Regret.
Number two son.
On his deathbed.
“Bastard!
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.
No,no,no.
Court martial.
Feelings.
Duty officer pleads for the soldier.
Result.
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.”
Regret.
Scenario3
You are fourteen.
You live five hundred meters across the border.
You should be having fun.
Hitler sends you to hell!
Stalingrad.
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 cellar...do NOT come back...that's an order.”
You're lucky,Ivan treats you as a child....
Gulag...POW.
1950.
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 views...it'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.
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.
Scenario1
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 shot...got 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.
Feelings.
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.”
Regret.
Number two son.
On his deathbed.
“Bastard!
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.
No,no,no.
Court martial.
Feelings.
Duty officer pleads for the soldier.
Result.
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.”
Regret.
Scenario3
You are fourteen.
You live five hundred meters across the border.
You should be having fun.
Hitler sends you to hell!
Stalingrad.
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 cellar...do NOT come back...that's an order.”
You're lucky,Ivan treats you as a child....
Gulag...POW.
1950.
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 views...it'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.
DEAR MUM 2
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 me...like I don't know...”Oh fiddle...Guardia civil again.”
Missus pulls over,and gives him her Bette Davis Look.
“Hello officer” in German!
“Papers”
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..
KAPOW!
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 before...you 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 mum...it 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.
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 me...like I don't know...”Oh fiddle...Guardia civil again.”
Missus pulls over,and gives him her Bette Davis Look.
“Hello officer” in German!
“Papers”
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..
KAPOW!
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 before...you 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 mum...it 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 back....is 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 food....you 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!
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 back....is 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 food....you 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."
WELL PUT CHARLIE BOY!
All credit to the Author....power to your pen.
Hey David...You are checking me out...now 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.
"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."
WELL PUT CHARLIE BOY!
All credit to the Author....power to your pen.
Hey David...You are checking me out...now 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.
ARE YOU HAPPY TODAY
WELL ARE YOU?
Come on comment...or are you going to hide in your bushes?
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.
ARE YOU HAPPY TODAY
WELL ARE YOU?
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 date...best keep them locked away for a bit.
Gotta go,early rise tomorrow.
Bye bye ya all.
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 date...best keep them locked away for a bit.
Gotta go,early rise tomorrow.
Bye bye ya all.
Friday, April 10, 2009
PROTESTER.
PROTESTER.
Well as it's Easter,you're going to have to wait for it.
Got things to do,chickens to buy,wood to cut...you 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.
YOU!
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.
Drunk.
Alcoholic.
Bum.
Disturbed.
Sick.
Homeless.
Hostel.
Bail.
Perhaps needed a teeny bit of help...Eh..what you think.
Much?
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.
Easter.
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.
Well as it's Easter,you're going to have to wait for it.
Got things to do,chickens to buy,wood to cut...you 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.
YOU!
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.
Drunk.
Alcoholic.
Bum.
Disturbed.
Sick.
Homeless.
Hostel.
Bail.
Perhaps needed a teeny bit of help...Eh..what you think.
Much?
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.
Easter.
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 go...here we go. Writing.
Here we go...here 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
BANG!
“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 up...now 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 encouragement...dad 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 yourself...is it worth it...is it real...or a story?
Bye bye.
Written by Kevin Gallivan,and has been registered as such.
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
BANG!
“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 up...now 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 encouragement...dad 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 yourself...is it worth it...is 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 .
SAY BLOODY 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.
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 .
SAY BLOODY 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 operation...you 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 me...green 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 collar...next 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!
Yep,Hera.
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 walk...got 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.
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 operation...you 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 me...green 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 collar...next 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!
Yep,Hera.
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 walk...got 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
"Wakey,wakey.
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."
Fishcakes.
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.
Don,wake up Don.
Got your tea,fishcakes love.
Don.
Sister.
Sister bring the trolly,old Dons popped off.
STOP THAT,BLOODY SCREAMING MOLLY!
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.
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."
Fishcakes.
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.
Don,wake up Don.
Got your tea,fishcakes love.
Don.
Sister.
Sister bring the trolly,old Dons popped off.
STOP THAT,BLOODY SCREAMING MOLLY!
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.
Burts BIG Bruvver Writing
Punishment and Crime
“I got my Ho
don't need no dough”
“JUMP JUMP”
“see wat I seen
no what I mean”
“JUMP JUMP”
“I'm a nutter
ain't gonna stutter”
“JUMP JUMP”
“I sumfin rotten
put u on ya grassy bottom”
“JUMP JUMP”
“got me AK 47
gonna say say”
“JUMP”
“HALT, HALT!
Ello, Ello, Ello.
What's going on here, then.”
“We were just avin a bit of fun.”
“SHUT UP!
WHEN I SHOUT POO,YOU JUMP!
UNTIL THEN SHUT THE FLIP UP....RIGHT...GOT IT?
SCUM!
NAME?”
" Dostoevsky.”
"Ah,an Imigrant., thought so!
Up against the wall.
Spread them legs.
Hands up.
Search him sergeant...I don't want to dirty my hands.
Put that Red Bull can in the bag."
“Yes Governor.”
“Shut those white trash up...STOP CRYING BITCH...should have thought about the consequence...shouldn't you.
Who are you anyway?”
“We're his sisters Sir.”
“Yea,they me ...”
“SHUT UP,PUNK!
What's that...what you say...speak up BOY!”
“Nuffin,Guv,I...”
“SIR,you call me SIR.”
“Sorry,SIR,Didn't mean no arm,just singing is all.”
“Just singing?
AK47,Grassy arse...Drinking Red Bull...
OH NO,my son:You're nicked...Well and truly.
I'll tell you what sonny Jim,tell me who your gang is and your sisters can go.”
“Please mister I ain't with no crew,honest.”
“All right sarge...”
“NO,wait,alright it's a fair cop.
I'm with the Red Bull Mob.”
“I KNEW IT!
A flippin Comie...this just gets better.”
“Please mister,my mum said we have to be in by five,for our tea.”
“Ha,TEA,you won't get no tea where you're going.
Sarg,let the girls go.
YOU,hands behind your back.
Know anything about the money lender in district ten?
“What. What you talking about?”
“Murdered,last night...some commie,Guardian reader...knocked him off.
How did you pay for them drinks; A...A...A... come on spit it out you newcomer.
How long you been here.
Spouting your gob off.
You're nicked son.
Got a tip off.
A Private message.
They told me.
Ignore him.
A TROLL.
That's what you are!
I ain't having it!
Book him Dan-O.
Don't bother with the station,take the trash straight to processing.
We all heard him...right?
Drinking Red Bull,grassy arse...flippin idiot!
Take him away.
Get that scum out of my sight.
Give me a nicotine chewing gum,will you Tim.
Blimey,what a day,I'm knackered.
Broke up that play ground fight this morning.
Raided the Women's Institute this afternoon.
Bitches were sending food parcels to Gazza...done them I did.
Then this.”
“Ere you are Guv.”
“Cheers Tim.”
“How's your brother Burt, Guv?”
“He's alright,jammy beggar,he's out in Spain with Vera.
She's a girl,she is.
I could have had her...when they were courting like;but I didn't.
Well you don't poo on your own doorstep...do you.”
“And your Dad.
Still poorly is he?”
“Er,
er no:actually he passed away.
Quiet like.
In his sleep.
Cor,he was a lad.”
“Sorry Guv. Didn't mean to...”
“No,No,It's alright.
For the best really...
No,I'm alright.
Got me Fish and that.
Know I ain't married.
No time see...ain't a nancy boy or nothing.
Just ain't had time see.
Read a lot.
Witt-gen-stein.
Even read his classmates stuff!
Then I got me music.
Love me Wagner.
Know he had his thoughts and that...but don't we all.
And the Club...got me club ain't I.”
“You alright Guv.
You look a bit off.”
“No,I'm alright...I... think...not sure really.
Anyway tomorrows another day.
Gotta go now...my head hurts!
The said piece "Punishmen and Crime" Was written by Kevin Gallivan and has been registered as such.
“I got my Ho
don't need no dough”
“JUMP JUMP”
“see wat I seen
no what I mean”
“JUMP JUMP”
“I'm a nutter
ain't gonna stutter”
“JUMP JUMP”
“I sumfin rotten
put u on ya grassy bottom”
“JUMP JUMP”
“got me AK 47
gonna say say”
“JUMP”
“HALT, HALT!
Ello, Ello, Ello.
What's going on here, then.”
“We were just avin a bit of fun.”
“SHUT UP!
WHEN I SHOUT POO,YOU JUMP!
UNTIL THEN SHUT THE FLIP UP....RIGHT...GOT IT?
SCUM!
NAME?”
" Dostoevsky.”
"Ah,an Imigrant., thought so!
Up against the wall.
Spread them legs.
Hands up.
Search him sergeant...I don't want to dirty my hands.
Put that Red Bull can in the bag."
“Yes Governor.”
“Shut those white trash up...STOP CRYING BITCH...should have thought about the consequence...shouldn't you.
Who are you anyway?”
“We're his sisters Sir.”
“Yea,they me ...”
“SHUT UP,PUNK!
What's that...what you say...speak up BOY!”
“Nuffin,Guv,I...”
“SIR,you call me SIR.”
“Sorry,SIR,Didn't mean no arm,just singing is all.”
“Just singing?
AK47,Grassy arse...Drinking Red Bull...
OH NO,my son:You're nicked...Well and truly.
I'll tell you what sonny Jim,tell me who your gang is and your sisters can go.”
“Please mister I ain't with no crew,honest.”
“All right sarge...”
“NO,wait,alright it's a fair cop.
I'm with the Red Bull Mob.”
“I KNEW IT!
A flippin Comie...this just gets better.”
“Please mister,my mum said we have to be in by five,for our tea.”
“Ha,TEA,you won't get no tea where you're going.
Sarg,let the girls go.
YOU,hands behind your back.
Know anything about the money lender in district ten?
“What. What you talking about?”
“Murdered,last night...some commie,Guardian reader...knocked him off.
How did you pay for them drinks; A...A...A... come on spit it out you newcomer.
How long you been here.
Spouting your gob off.
You're nicked son.
Got a tip off.
A Private message.
They told me.
Ignore him.
A TROLL.
That's what you are!
I ain't having it!
Book him Dan-O.
Don't bother with the station,take the trash straight to processing.
We all heard him...right?
Drinking Red Bull,grassy arse...flippin idiot!
Take him away.
Get that scum out of my sight.
Give me a nicotine chewing gum,will you Tim.
Blimey,what a day,I'm knackered.
Broke up that play ground fight this morning.
Raided the Women's Institute this afternoon.
Bitches were sending food parcels to Gazza...done them I did.
Then this.”
“Ere you are Guv.”
“Cheers Tim.”
“How's your brother Burt, Guv?”
“He's alright,jammy beggar,he's out in Spain with Vera.
She's a girl,she is.
I could have had her...when they were courting like;but I didn't.
Well you don't poo on your own doorstep...do you.”
“And your Dad.
Still poorly is he?”
“Er,
er no:actually he passed away.
Quiet like.
In his sleep.
Cor,he was a lad.”
“Sorry Guv. Didn't mean to...”
“No,No,It's alright.
For the best really...
No,I'm alright.
Got me Fish and that.
Know I ain't married.
No time see...ain't a nancy boy or nothing.
Just ain't had time see.
Read a lot.
Witt-gen-stein.
Even read his classmates stuff!
Then I got me music.
Love me Wagner.
Know he had his thoughts and that...but don't we all.
And the Club...got me club ain't I.”
“You alright Guv.
You look a bit off.”
“No,I'm alright...I... think...not sure really.
Anyway tomorrows another day.
Gotta go now...my head hurts!
The said piece "Punishmen and Crime" Was written by Kevin Gallivan and has been registered as such.
Vera Playa Writing
“Soup again Vera.
You'll look like bloody soup soon you will.
Four days we been here.
You have a bit of toast for breakfast,chips for dinner and bloody soup for tea:you'll waste away you will.”
“Oh don't keep on Burt,you know I can't eat all that spicy stuff. I'll be on the toilet all night:good job I've got me imodium,that's all.
Anyway I had a hamburger last night didn't I;and chips.”
“Yeah,only cause you'd had a few.
Why don't you try these bangers,they're not bad,Bratwurst or somethink,bit garlicky,but alright.”
“Nah,I'll stick with me soup,luv.”
“Man-well,oi man-well”
“Si Senor.”
“Another beer,not bottled though,out the tap.”
“Que?.”
“What...another beer...Pint of beer...sir-vessa.”
“Ah,Si.”
“I'm all pink Burt,even me white bits,if I had any that is.
Don't know how you got me on this holiday,I really don't.
Bloody Nudist at my age...so embarrassing,
I didn't know where to put my face this morning when that sun-bed chap came round;good job I was reading the News of the World,that covered me up.
I mean I only said I'd think about it,and the next day you booked it...didn't hang around did you.
And don't look away,all sheepish.
These young girls.
I ain't so thick as I look.”
“Come on Vera don't spoil it,have a sangria.
Fancy watching the show later,there's a singer on;eh,what you think?”
“Yeah,alright.
But not too late tonight Burt,I had a bit of a headache this morning.”
“That was probably the hamburger.
Where's my beer,he's taking his time.
I think I'll get some more sausage and chips,sure you don't want some love?”
“No,I'm alright.
Ere Burt, you don't reckon I look a bit old to wear white trousers do you,only the magazine I was reading said women over thirty five shouldn't wear em:what you think?”
“No. You look good love.
Here he is...what's that bottled. Oh well don't matter. Grassy-arse senor.”
“Burt,be quiet. They might understand you.”
“It's alright,haven't heard another English voice in four days.
I tell yer what Vera I don't mind the eye-ties,the dagos,even the frogs are alright...but I can't stand the bloody jerries!
I mean look at this lot...loud,wearing all that gold,designer gear,makes you wonder who won don't it.
Lay around all day nothing on,then get dolled up in their best glad rags.
I feel a right nancy boy in this flowered shirt”
“You look very nice Burt.
Marks and Sparks that is.”
“Bloody ponce's'.”
“Schuss,Burt,don't get all uppity now.
Come on let's get to the bar,have a quick one before they beat us to it.”
“Yeah your right,hang on I'd better leave a tip for man-well.”
“It's all inclusive,you don't have to do that,come on hurry up.”
“Hola senor.
What you want Vera?”
“I'll have a Port and Lemon...No I won't,I'll have one of those cocktail things.
I'm just going to the loo,won't be a minute.”
“Senor.”
“What's that?”
“Is coca cola,for you.”
“Coca bloody cola...I'm a beer man,you being funny,or what.”
“You say,cola,no?”
“You pissed Man-well,I'll have one of those big beers like last night and a blue lagoon thing for the missus.
That's it, cor this is good beer.
Man-well this beer, Spanish is it?”
“Si,no Senor,is Deutsch...good no.”
“How much I owe you?”
“Nader is appy hour,you have more beer on house no,all clusive.”
“Oh,yeah right,give us a rum and black,quick like, before the missus comes back.
And here you are,five Euro for the kids'.
Bloody Micky-mouse money.”
“Alright Burt?”
“Oh,yeah just practicing me Spanish on Man-well.”
“Guten abend Madam,nice day no,see you by pool today,very hot.”
“Come on Vera,let's get a table at the front.
Before the rest get out of dinner,told you it was a good plan to get down to dinner early.”
“He's nice that barman isn't he.”
“Bloody cheeky bugger if you ask me...seen you at the pool indeed,good job I didn't punch him on the nose. Bloody foreigners.”
“Now Burt,don't be spoiling the holiday now.
After all it was your idea;going nudist wasn't it.”
“Flipping good beer though.
Dutch it is,they know a thing or two those Dutch,you know.”
“I think I'll pop into town tomorrow Burt,get myself some black trousers;what you think?”
“You'll look like one of the staff,tight black trousers.
Better get some more drinks in before the hoards get here.”
“You stay there Burt,I'll get them. Same again is it?
He might know where to buy some trousers.”
“You behave yourself Vera...you know what those foreigners are like.”
“Wont be too long.”
“Good evening Sir.”
“Oh,hi yer...we thought we were the only Brits here.”
“Brits...?
We from the Holland.”
“Right...try the beer,bloody good it is.”
Written by Kevin Gallivan.
The said piece "Vera Playa" Was written by Kevin Gallivan and has been registered as such.
You'll look like bloody soup soon you will.
Four days we been here.
You have a bit of toast for breakfast,chips for dinner and bloody soup for tea:you'll waste away you will.”
“Oh don't keep on Burt,you know I can't eat all that spicy stuff. I'll be on the toilet all night:good job I've got me imodium,that's all.
Anyway I had a hamburger last night didn't I;and chips.”
“Yeah,only cause you'd had a few.
Why don't you try these bangers,they're not bad,Bratwurst or somethink,bit garlicky,but alright.”
“Nah,I'll stick with me soup,luv.”
“Man-well,oi man-well”
“Si Senor.”
“Another beer,not bottled though,out the tap.”
“Que?.”
“What...another beer...Pint of beer...sir-vessa.”
“Ah,Si.”
“I'm all pink Burt,even me white bits,if I had any that is.
Don't know how you got me on this holiday,I really don't.
Bloody Nudist at my age...so embarrassing,
I didn't know where to put my face this morning when that sun-bed chap came round;good job I was reading the News of the World,that covered me up.
I mean I only said I'd think about it,and the next day you booked it...didn't hang around did you.
And don't look away,all sheepish.
These young girls.
I ain't so thick as I look.”
“Come on Vera don't spoil it,have a sangria.
Fancy watching the show later,there's a singer on;eh,what you think?”
“Yeah,alright.
But not too late tonight Burt,I had a bit of a headache this morning.”
“That was probably the hamburger.
Where's my beer,he's taking his time.
I think I'll get some more sausage and chips,sure you don't want some love?”
“No,I'm alright.
Ere Burt, you don't reckon I look a bit old to wear white trousers do you,only the magazine I was reading said women over thirty five shouldn't wear em:what you think?”
“No. You look good love.
Here he is...what's that bottled. Oh well don't matter. Grassy-arse senor.”
“Burt,be quiet. They might understand you.”
“It's alright,haven't heard another English voice in four days.
I tell yer what Vera I don't mind the eye-ties,the dagos,even the frogs are alright...but I can't stand the bloody jerries!
I mean look at this lot...loud,wearing all that gold,designer gear,makes you wonder who won don't it.
Lay around all day nothing on,then get dolled up in their best glad rags.
I feel a right nancy boy in this flowered shirt”
“You look very nice Burt.
Marks and Sparks that is.”
“Bloody ponce's'.”
“Schuss,Burt,don't get all uppity now.
Come on let's get to the bar,have a quick one before they beat us to it.”
“Yeah your right,hang on I'd better leave a tip for man-well.”
“It's all inclusive,you don't have to do that,come on hurry up.”
“Hola senor.
What you want Vera?”
“I'll have a Port and Lemon...No I won't,I'll have one of those cocktail things.
I'm just going to the loo,won't be a minute.”
“Senor.”
“What's that?”
“Is coca cola,for you.”
“Coca bloody cola...I'm a beer man,you being funny,or what.”
“You say,cola,no?”
“You pissed Man-well,I'll have one of those big beers like last night and a blue lagoon thing for the missus.
That's it, cor this is good beer.
Man-well this beer, Spanish is it?”
“Si,no Senor,is Deutsch...good no.”
“How much I owe you?”
“Nader is appy hour,you have more beer on house no,all clusive.”
“Oh,yeah right,give us a rum and black,quick like, before the missus comes back.
And here you are,five Euro for the kids'.
Bloody Micky-mouse money.”
“Alright Burt?”
“Oh,yeah just practicing me Spanish on Man-well.”
“Guten abend Madam,nice day no,see you by pool today,very hot.”
“Come on Vera,let's get a table at the front.
Before the rest get out of dinner,told you it was a good plan to get down to dinner early.”
“He's nice that barman isn't he.”
“Bloody cheeky bugger if you ask me...seen you at the pool indeed,good job I didn't punch him on the nose. Bloody foreigners.”
“Now Burt,don't be spoiling the holiday now.
After all it was your idea;going nudist wasn't it.”
“Flipping good beer though.
Dutch it is,they know a thing or two those Dutch,you know.”
“I think I'll pop into town tomorrow Burt,get myself some black trousers;what you think?”
“You'll look like one of the staff,tight black trousers.
Better get some more drinks in before the hoards get here.”
“You stay there Burt,I'll get them. Same again is it?
He might know where to buy some trousers.”
“You behave yourself Vera...you know what those foreigners are like.”
“Wont be too long.”
“Good evening Sir.”
“Oh,hi yer...we thought we were the only Brits here.”
“Brits...?
We from the Holland.”
“Right...try the beer,bloody good it is.”
Written by Kevin Gallivan.
The said piece "Vera Playa" Was written by Kevin Gallivan and has been registered as such.
I've made my bed. Writing
I need a new hat.
I must have a new car
I need to get a life.
I really must have a ….
AIN'T NO BODY HERE BUT US CHICKENS.
AIN'T NO BODY HERE AT ALL.
I, I , I .
Me, me, me.
I need.
I must.
Ain't no body here but us chickens.
Ain't no body here at all.
The seas are rising.
The sun is scorching.
The waves lick the standard.
Rule Britannia,Britannia rules the waves.
Ain't no body here but us chickens.
Ain't no body here at all.
Russian sea graves are full.
Ghost ships arrive.
Where are you?
Rainbow warrior sleeps with the fishes.
Ain't no body here.
“Hi Angie,Gordon here.
Spoke to Barrack.
Told Nicholas.
We've got a plan;.......... BALE OUT!"
Ain't no body here but us chickens.
Ain't no body here at all.
The stone martin pulls back his lips.
The fox slinks in the shadows.
The snake slides under the door.
The animals have the night.
Ain't no body here but us chickens.
Ain't no body here at all.
The green slime drips to the floor.
Bubbles reproduce,gremlins awake.
Dark warm blood.
Trickles down the wall........Steaming.
Ain't no body here but us chickens.
Ain't no body here at all.
The spirits of the past, rattle their chains.
They wring their hands in desperation.
It goes round and round.
My God; father what have we done.
Ain't no body here but us chickens.
Lennon walking central park.
Cruising after dark,lurking... some say.
All it takes is one itchy trigger.
Ahmeds army is here to stay.
Ain't no body here but us chickens.
The Korean tiger slips under the wire.
The Chinese dragon caress's the bear.
The pack start to rise.
The gas is turned off.
Ain't no body here but us chickens.
Africans starve.
AIDS is a sin?
Pirates reign.
Chiefs they... grin.
Ain't no body here but us chickens.
The migs are supplied.
The tunnels are dug.
Hardware is given.
Love thy neighbour,and have a group hug.
Ain't no body here but us chickens.
Ain't no body here at all.
I need to watch.
I need to listen.
I need to read.
I really must take heed.
Ain't no boy here but...
Keep walking .
Nothing to see.
I said...MOVE!
The safety catch is off.
Ain't no...
Ash rains down.
A baby cry s.
A jackal crawls over the rubble.
Our Father which art in heaven.
HEY HO!
Ain't no body here but us chickens.
Ain't no body here at all.
Talk the talk,walk the walk.
'Nuclear Mujahidin' to 'defeat the enemy.'
Say it as YOU see it .
"The Big picture?"
Well you know the rest.
DON'T YOU?
Ain't nobody here,but us chickens.
Ain't nobody here at all!
Hey Boss Man, What ya say.
Hit me with your rhythm stick
Written by Kevin Gallivan.
Many thanks...BB King,Elvis C,Stones,Eric Bibb,I Drury.
The said piece "I've made my bed" Was written by Kevin Gallivan and has been registered as such.
I must have a new car
I need to get a life.
I really must have a ….
AIN'T NO BODY HERE BUT US CHICKENS.
AIN'T NO BODY HERE AT ALL.
I, I , I .
Me, me, me.
I need.
I must.
Ain't no body here but us chickens.
Ain't no body here at all.
The seas are rising.
The sun is scorching.
The waves lick the standard.
Rule Britannia,Britannia rules the waves.
Ain't no body here but us chickens.
Ain't no body here at all.
Russian sea graves are full.
Ghost ships arrive.
Where are you?
Rainbow warrior sleeps with the fishes.
Ain't no body here.
“Hi Angie,Gordon here.
Spoke to Barrack.
Told Nicholas.
We've got a plan;.......... BALE OUT!"
Ain't no body here but us chickens.
Ain't no body here at all.
The stone martin pulls back his lips.
The fox slinks in the shadows.
The snake slides under the door.
The animals have the night.
Ain't no body here but us chickens.
Ain't no body here at all.
The green slime drips to the floor.
Bubbles reproduce,gremlins awake.
Dark warm blood.
Trickles down the wall........Steaming.
Ain't no body here but us chickens.
Ain't no body here at all.
The spirits of the past, rattle their chains.
They wring their hands in desperation.
It goes round and round.
My God; father what have we done.
Ain't no body here but us chickens.
Lennon walking central park.
Cruising after dark,lurking... some say.
All it takes is one itchy trigger.
Ahmeds army is here to stay.
Ain't no body here but us chickens.
The Korean tiger slips under the wire.
The Chinese dragon caress's the bear.
The pack start to rise.
The gas is turned off.
Ain't no body here but us chickens.
Africans starve.
AIDS is a sin?
Pirates reign.
Chiefs they... grin.
Ain't no body here but us chickens.
The migs are supplied.
The tunnels are dug.
Hardware is given.
Love thy neighbour,and have a group hug.
Ain't no body here but us chickens.
Ain't no body here at all.
I need to watch.
I need to listen.
I need to read.
I really must take heed.
Ain't no boy here but...
Keep walking .
Nothing to see.
I said...MOVE!
The safety catch is off.
Ain't no...
Ash rains down.
A baby cry s.
A jackal crawls over the rubble.
Our Father which art in heaven.
HEY HO!
Ain't no body here but us chickens.
Ain't no body here at all.
Talk the talk,walk the walk.
'Nuclear Mujahidin' to 'defeat the enemy.'
Say it as YOU see it .
"The Big picture?"
Well you know the rest.
DON'T YOU?
Ain't nobody here,but us chickens.
Ain't nobody here at all!
Hey Boss Man, What ya say.
Hit me with your rhythm stick
Written by Kevin Gallivan.
Many thanks...BB King,Elvis C,Stones,Eric Bibb,I Drury.
The said piece "I've made my bed" Was written by Kevin Gallivan and has been registered as such.
For your own good. Writing
MY GOD! What the hell is that Gallivan? Don't you know how to Punch-u-hate?
"sorry miss" SORRY;how old are you boy? "seven sir"
Now this is for your own good boy.
Listen class I want you to listen to this drivel.
They kill they cut in pieces they hunt with curses what relevance has this to keeping your mind pure sane sober just as if a man were to come up to a spring of clear sweet water and curse it it would still continue to bubble up water good to drink he could throw in mud or dung in no time the spring will break it down wash it away and take no colour from it how then can you secure an everlasting spring and not a cistern by keeping yourself at all times intent on freedom and staying kind simple and decent.
What nonsense.
Stop snivelling Gallivan.
The point of punctuation is to help the reader understand the subject matter!!!
That makes no sense at all.
Communication Boy!
That's what it's about.
Just like all the rest in the village.
You will end up down the Pit,like your no-good father.
Ha,or worse;in some foreign country living in a stone house,no money,no future and chopping wood...eating garlic!
Maybe leading Foreign Legions?
NOW,enough of this nonsense:put the D hat on and stand on the naughty step.
STOP crying Boy!
It hurts me more than it hurts you!
Bukowski,move over,let Gallivan join you.
Now;where was I: oh yes the FULL STOP.
Many thanks Marcus Aurelius and my many teachers and critics.
Written by Kevin Gallivan and has been registered as such.
"sorry miss" SORRY;how old are you boy? "seven sir"
Now this is for your own good boy.
Listen class I want you to listen to this drivel.
They kill they cut in pieces they hunt with curses what relevance has this to keeping your mind pure sane sober just as if a man were to come up to a spring of clear sweet water and curse it it would still continue to bubble up water good to drink he could throw in mud or dung in no time the spring will break it down wash it away and take no colour from it how then can you secure an everlasting spring and not a cistern by keeping yourself at all times intent on freedom and staying kind simple and decent.
What nonsense.
Stop snivelling Gallivan.
The point of punctuation is to help the reader understand the subject matter!!!
That makes no sense at all.
Communication Boy!
That's what it's about.
Just like all the rest in the village.
You will end up down the Pit,like your no-good father.
Ha,or worse;in some foreign country living in a stone house,no money,no future and chopping wood...eating garlic!
Maybe leading Foreign Legions?
NOW,enough of this nonsense:put the D hat on and stand on the naughty step.
STOP crying Boy!
It hurts me more than it hurts you!
Bukowski,move over,let Gallivan join you.
Now;where was I: oh yes the FULL STOP.
Many thanks Marcus Aurelius and my many teachers and critics.
Written by Kevin Gallivan and has been registered as such.
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