Gay Nazi Sex Vicar in Schoolgirl Knickers Vice Disco Lawnmower Shock!
« Do not get on the wrong side of my catHi babe »


  Wed 24th June 2015

I nearly chatted someone up today.

I was in the pub with Vic and recognised a girl we had had a drunken chat with a couple of weeks ago. I asked her over to our table, from which moment the awareness that I was being rude in shunning Vic was insufficient to temper my interest in her. We bantered for a while, during which I gave her my number. "I like sex, and drinking, but I've never had much love," she said. Usual tale of heightened sexual response as a delayed result of maternal deprivation. We left together, but only because she had a doctor's appointment. She kissed me on the lips and said "Don't take it wrong, but I don't go for older blokes." "You cheeky bugger," I said, before realising that 51 minus 27 is 24.

Trina drove us up to Middlesbrough to see my mum for a couple of days. We went in her flash 80s sports car, with its pop-up square headlights and roaring engine. We stopped for something to eat in Bishop Auckland. I had a "Butternut Squash Curry", which was a clever joke dish intended to recreate the self-improving suffering of early British vegetarian cooking, in which you could charge good money for serving Vegetables in Water Sauce With Spice Rack-Aged Chilli Powder.

On the Thursday night my sister took us out to a new cocktail bar. Her boyfriend is adept at keeping her indoors with their toddlers, so it was a rare pleasure for her to get out. She's a very attractive girl and because I see her so rarely there were a few moment when the shadow-self intervened to correct my reactions. Feeling over-manly for my income, I waved aside Trina and Sis's offers to contribute to the bill for two bottles of containerised Malbec. 43 quid. Fuck. In Middlesbrough?

I wanted to broach the subject of debt with Mum. Not that I could do anything to pay them off, but I'm quite experienced at bureaucratically avoiding them. I needn't have worried. "Dad's debts came to about nine thousand pounds, but they've written them all off." I thought it'd be more than that. "He used to buy things and just put them on the credit card. He said to me one day "'Would you like a tumble drier?' And I told him 'No, not really --- we've managed for fifty years without one.' And a couple of days later it was there. This big van from Argos turned up and they installed it. I never use it."

She said that she feels better off than ever now, now that she controls the income, which as far as I can see, consists of a State Pension, since my Dad's pension was rescinded after he had an affair with one of his parishioners.

When we got back me to mine, me and Trina and put some music on and we danced about a bit and threw a few pints down our necks, and then had sex. I wish I could stop doing this. It's the wrong form of desire, and it gives her encouragement.

A righter form of desire would present itself in the shape of Wendy, who has recently split up from Slightly Controlling Husband. Me and Kitty wound up back at hers at the weekend. "I'm a lot better off now, now that I have control of the money." I told her about my Mum saying the same thing. He's a part-time Lecturer at the Ribble Valley University of Working so what the fuck he was doing taking the Tax Credits into his own bank account, when she does almost all of the childcare whilst doing a job that hardly gets into even the first tax band, I don't know.

She had on the same tight, secondhand green dress she was wearing at my NYE party. She was limitlessly generous with the wine, never too pissed or speeding to fail to notice an empty glass. It's so important to do that. Always have enough in and never make anyone have to go to the offy. Her and Kitty are model hostesses. I spread the love in a more desiccated form.

Another couple, whom I've met once before turned up. She's one of these raggle-haired witch-like women who want to be bohemian but lack the dress sense and the intelligence to become so. She started talking about children. Yes, we're all parents, but we're away from them for one precious day, so can we talk about something else? In that lazy, intolerant way that is the privilege of men, I left her to witter on about schools and so on, to Kitty.

Her boyfriend was more interesting. His knee's fucked from a failed suicide attempt, but he was quite other-directed for a suicider -- a group with whom I have little sympathy, given that they are apt to making an aggressive gesture designed to fuck up the people who have loved them. Do it on the quiet with some fentanyl. Don't make a fucking song and dance of it.

Wendy texted me today. "You forgot the Murakami." She is pressing The Wind-up Bird Chronicles on me and she'd given me a copy at the do and I'd left it there. "I'll drop it round sometime." "Oh please do, but only when we could be detained with a glass or two of something effervescent."

She went to a book launch the other day where there was a bit of free wine going. She said that at the end, she ended up in a bit of a contest for the last bottle of wine. "The girl was trying it to wrest it out of my hand! I told her 'Yes -- you might look all trendy with your piercings, but you're just a conformist." In revenge for this, she stole a book. I imagine the beleaguered staff member, on 6.50 an hour, but now into her unpaid time, might have turned a blind eye to her theft just to get rid of her.


I can’t stand being an older bugger. We look stupid chatting up someone half our age. I always regret it. Currently, I’m in a flirtation with a 42-year old. Seems more appropriate. Less shameful and desperate.

Sell the dryer! You could use the cash to buy more overpriced Malbec.

Have you written about your father’s dalliance? I’ll bet it was scandalous! Men can’t keep it in their pants. Not even the pious ones.

Why are you still diddling Trina? Oh…wait…see previous paragraph.

I actually don’t like when someone swoops in a fills my empty glass. I’ll control my own intake, thank you very much.

How did he fuck up his knee trying to off it? What method did he employ?

I’m in the middle of a short story collection by Murakami, which is just awful. One dull story after another. But I loved Wind-Up Bird. One of my favs.

FYI: Brooklyn Blast has no specific local meaning. Just two words that sound sporty when you say them together.

Still the best blog around.

Wed 24th June 2015 @ 11:43
Comment from: Furtheron [Visitor]

I do even bother with the flirtatious comments to 40somethings now as they seem to spot I’m no good at it and actually I’m happily married..

Maybe my wife tells them telepathically somehow

Wed 24th June 2015 @ 15:20
Comment from: [Member]

Thanks Exile – but speak for yourself in looking stupid talking to younger women! We had a good natter and she wouldn’t have tolerated me if the situation had been awkward. Things are very straightforward and honest in the pubs I go to.

My Dad had an affair, but I think we’ll glide over that one. He was someone who tried to be a good man, which is more I can say for myself. And he (and his family) was punished far too severely.

I like it when you get your glass filled at a party. You’re still drinking at your own pace, but it’s a compliment to know that you’re being looked after.

The suicide man jumped off a building and landed on his knee. He’s schizophrenic and did it when he was low.

Thanks (I think) for the recommendation about the WUPBC. Will be interesting to see if we both like it.

F: Well why do you make them then? :)

Wed 24th June 2015 @ 20:04
Comment from: Suzi Southwold [Visitor]

I’ve got lovely visions of you two exchanging Murakami over two glasses of Tizer.

Thu 25th June 2015 @ 07:46
Comment from: looby [Visitor]

Preferably in a field somewhere, not overlooked, where it wouldn’t matter if one of her buttons accidentally came open.

Thu 25th June 2015 @ 11:00
Comment from: smallbeds [Visitor]

“… Do you want a cheeky Tizer?”

K’s parents have a phenomenally well-stocked drinks cabinet at all times, but my father-in-law makes a point of announcing at the start of major social events, after the first round: “you know where the drink is; please help yourselves.”

I think it’s because he grew up in a household consisting otherwise entirely of women, with all the social demands of the period that that entails (o, the patriarch’s burden!) and is now fed up of standing up and sitting down purely to turn largesse into *demonstrable* largesse, not least because old age has brought with it occasional sciatica.

Personally that’s fine by me: I’m not going to quibble between Merlot, Malbec and Carmenere, frankly.

Thu 25th June 2015 @ 11:21
Comment from: [Member]

all of this! you are such a delicious, self-aware, conflicted intellectual! you’d completely wear me out with all of this complexity!

unlike your 27 year old gal, i adore older men! in fact, on the few occasions when i’ve been pursued by someone younger, i am dismissive, skeptical and adopt a classic Foghorn Leghorn “Go away, Son, you bother me!” stance… With the exception of a particularly sexy, 25 year old vixen, i’ve not bothered to even dip my toe in the water in the past few years… She was worth the dalliance…

Fri 26th June 2015 @ 02:08
Comment from: smallbeds [Visitor]

(Oo, congrats on the anti-fracking win, by the way. Fingers crossed for the next one.)

Fri 26th June 2015 @ 13:43
Comment from: [Member]

SB: Yes, I can see how that might be a bit tiresome on the old joints. Kitty and Wendy are still young and nimble and it’s lovely how they look after you.

DF: Has your vixen got an English sister by any remote chance? :) I’m blessed with finding women my own age attractive. It’s a curse of many 50something men to want girlfriends much younger than them.

SB: Thanks – it’s far from over yet and the refusal of the planning permission at Roseacre has been allowed to overshadow the approval of “test drilling” for “seismic surveys” at the same site, which I suspect is a way of getting fracking into Roseacre by the back door.

We’re back at the Council on Monday to see what will happen about Preston New Road.

Sat 27th June 2015 @ 08:45
Comment from: smallbeds [Visitor]

Looks like it’s been refused just this minute?

Mon 29th June 2015 @ 11:11
Comment from: looby [Visitor]

Miraculously, yes, it has been refused. The atmosphere today when the news came out made even this hard-hearted man’s eyes go glossy.

We must be careful not to imagine that this is the end of the matter, since they have still passed a permit for “seismic testing” at the other site, Roseacre, and the Little Plumpton site about which I was revolting today, will go to appeal. But we’ve got this shit hot pro bono lawyer on it, who spent this weekend preparing legal advice which assured the Councillors that there were sound legal grounds on which they could refuse the application.

A small leftwing sherry was had this afternoon.

Mon 29th June 2015 @ 20:28
Comment from: Suzy Southwold [Visitor]

I scoured the film footage in the 10 o’clock news but couldn’t spot you!

Tue 30th June 2015 @ 07:46
Comment from: [Member]

How silly of them to edit out such a handsome leftwing man. I will do a report of my own this evening.

Thu 2nd July 2015 @ 15:49
Comment from: gossamer beynon [Visitor]

Poor Trina.
Hope you’re enjoying the sunshine.

Thu 9th July 2015 @ 15:00
Comment from: looby [Visitor]

I know – it’s not right.

Sat 11th July 2015 @ 08:14

Form is loading...

looby, n.; pl. loobies. A lout; an awkward, stupid, clownish person

M / 56 / Bristol, "the most beautiful, interesting and distinguished city in England" -- John Betjeman [1961, source eludes me].

"Looby is a left-wing intellectual who is obsessed with a) women's clothes and b) tits." -- Joy of Bex.

WLTM literate woman, 40-65. Must have nice tits, a PhD, and an mdma factory in the shed, although the first on its own will do in the short term.

There are plenty of bastards who drink moderately. Of course, I don't consider them to be people. They are not our comrades.
Sergei Korovin, quoted in Pavel Krusanov, The Blue Book of the Alcoholic

I am here to change my life. I am here to force myself to change my life.
Chinese man I met during Freshers Week at Lancaster University, 2008

The more democratised art becomes, the more we recognise in it our own mediocrity.
James Meek

Tell me, why is it that even when we are enjoying music, for instance, or a beautiful evening, or a conversation in agreeable company, it all seems no more than a hint of some infinite felicity existing apart somewhere, rather than actual happiness – such, I mean, as we ourselves can really possess?
Turgenev, Fathers and Sons

I hate the iPod; I hate the idea that music is such a personal thing that you can just stick some earplugs in your ears and have an experience with music. Music is a social phenomenon.
Jeremy Wagner

La vie poetique has its pleasures, and readings--ideally a long way from home--are one of them. I can pretend to be George Szirtes.
George Szirtes

Using words well is a social virtue. Use 'fortuitous' once more to mean 'fortunate' and you move an English word another step towards the dustbin. If your mistake took hold, no-one who valued clarity would be able to use the word again.
John Whale

One good thing about being a Marxist is that you don't have to pretend to like work.
Terry Eagleton, What Is A Novel?, Lancaster University, 1 Feb 2010

The working man is a fucking loser.
Mick, The Golden Lion, Lancaster, 21 Mar 2011

The Comfort of Strangers

23.1.16: Big clearout of the defunct and dormant and dull
16.1.19: Further pruning

If your comment box looks like this, I'm afraid I sometimes can't be bothered with all that palarver just to leave a comment.

63 mago
Another Angry Voice
the asshat lounge
Clutter From The Gutter
Eryl Shields Ink
Exile on Pain Street
Fat Man On A Keyboard
gairnet provides: press of blll defunct, but retained for its quality
George Szirtes ditto
Guitars and Life
Infomaniac [NSFW]
The Joy of Bex
Laudator Temporis Acti
London's Singing Organ-Grinder
The Most Difficult Thing Ever
Strange Flowers
Trailer Park Refugee
Wonky Words

"Just sit still and listen" - woman to teenage girl at Elliott Carter weekend, London 2006

Bristol New Music
Desiring Progress Collection of links only
Golden Pages for Musicologists
Lauren Redhead
The Rambler
Resonance FM
Sequenza 21
Sound and Music
Talking Musicology defunct, but retained

  XML Feeds

Open-source blog

©2021 by looby. Don't steal anything or you'll have a 9st arts graduate to deal with.

Contact | Help | b2evo skins by Asevo | CMS engine