Tag Archives: Fucking

163. Fiesta.

Standing at the side of the ring road for years and years, waiting for buses that are late, on time, that never come. Huddled in a freezing bus shelter or standing in the sun, standing in the dark, standing in … Continue reading

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157. Captain Blood

“OH JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!” I sat bolt upright in a bed I didn’t know, in a room I’d never seen before. A digital alarm clock by the side of the bed told me it was 8.49am and it was a … Continue reading

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149. Underhand Lob

Here he comes, rocking a straw sombrero and a pair of knock-off Ray Bans, pulling a pallet of paper that defies gravity at every corner, his demeanor defiant, shouting ‘pal’ and ‘mate’ and ‘cunt’ at everyone with the same split-melon … Continue reading

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145. Cold Snap

“It’s cold out there.” “Mmff.” “Proper parky, it is. You want to get wrapped up if you’re on the bike.” “Mmm Mmff.” “Icy too. Black ice, the worst kind. You can’t see it, you see. Nasty stuff, black ice.” “Fffmm … Continue reading

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144. The Grind

I’m looking at the dust streaked screen of a primitive computer, half listening to Soulless Boss. “Press that. No, not that. That. Yes. Now click there there and there. No not there, THERE, for fuck’s sake! Select the paper. No, … Continue reading

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141. Stepping Out

“I’m knocking.” Giz another card, lad.” “Here you go, Stan.” “Fuck. I’m knocking too.” “I’m not. What about that lot?” “Bastard.” The slap of dog-eared playing cards and the slurp of tea. The soft hiss of a Calor gas heater. … Continue reading

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132. Clock Springs

Hey Dave. What you doing? Drawing. Yeah? I didn’t know you could draw. There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Luci. I’m a man of many talents. I have no doubt about that whatsoever. You draw a lot? Yeah, … Continue reading

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