Gay Nazi Sex Vicar in Schoolgirl Knickers Vice Disco Lawnmower Shock!
« Me and Trina do not have sex in a motorway servicesI fancy your wife »

Heroin might not be for everyone

  Tue 23rd February 2016

You might remember the episode during which Loveable But Uncool Friend and me were in a loo cubicle together, sharing the desiccated love, when, with his foghorn of a voice and lack of social awareness, he gave away what we were up to. A paranoid lunatic, a flotsam of maternal deprivation, barged into the cubicle -- fortunately, just as I was on my own, making a public sound of re-buckling my belt.

The loony was in the pub again this evening. He came over, stood over us without talking, trying to intimidate us. "You right fella, how you doing?" I said. He stood there, said nothing but pointed to his eyes whilst looking at me and Vic, before sitting down.

The whole pub noticed, but I resolutely carried on as though nothing untoward had happened. It was bothering Uncool Friend, who, becoming more uncool, stared at them and looked uneasy and twitchy, before leaving. I sympathise, but it would have been better to blank them.

My barman friend told me that one of the lunatic's company was a smackhead and had beaten up someone very badly outside the pub in which he had worked. "He's a fucking psychopath. He should have been banned from every pub round here."

Because I can drink most people under the table, I knew that all I had to do was to sit there and carry on drinking, until he slumps with the drunkard's mixture of self-pity and flaccid aggression, but it was his more sober-seeming psychopath friend I was more worried about. I also wished I hadn't inadvertently dragged my friends into this situation.

Cometh the hour, and they depart. I pretend I haven't noticed and don't join in the quiet relieved sigh of the rest of the pub. You never know who's watching.

As much as I like the pub in question, neither a principled complaint to management nor my cajoling cross-class verbal competence are going to be effective against a smackhead with a dangerous mate. I have decided therefore that I am not going to be in the same place as them again, and I'm going to tell my friends this.

If he walks in, I am going to finish my drink at my leisure, and give them the code phrase "oh well, peeps, I must be getting my train," which will be a signal for us all to meet up in ten minutes' time in a nearby pub which is posh enough for him to reject it by its invocation of his sense of class inferiority.

Never mind; I turned my thoughts to something much lovelier and slid into the sexiness of the text I got from Wendy this morning, who was wondering if I was free on Wednesday for a drink. "Of course I am Wendy, I'd love that, although you'd also be more than welcome round at mine and you could warm your cockles in front of my coal fire with a bottle of Prosecco."

"That sounds lovely. I'll bring a bottle. See you at 1?"

I clicked back and forth on my primitive phone, looking repeatedly at her message and my reply, leavening two simple texts with sex; and her command the other night: "Put your hands up my skirt", over and over again in my head.


We were always glad the neighborhood was flooded with junkies. They were far less dangerous than the crack heads who were up in The Bronx. Junkies are a placid bunch whereby a tweaked-out crack head will cut your throat for a nickle. You can just push a junkie over and there’s no resistance.

Tue 23rd February 2016 @ 11:36
Comment from: [Member]

I’m not sure what, if anything, he uses, but he’s a vile piece of work, unpredictable, and I’m sure, perfectly capable of violence. I resent him being there, in what I see as my pub, in which there is hardly ever the slightest ripple of trouble.

Tue 23rd February 2016 @ 13:03
Comment from: Kono [Visitor]

I’ve known these types, sadly i’ve probably been these types on occasion, otherwise my reputation in the local pubs and strip clubs is that of legend, funny though thinking about it i also used to associate (business wise) with a lot of these types, of course in Merka all these fucking psychos carry guns (something i never did) but you’re right, steer clear and play with Wendy, sounds a might bit better.

Wed 24th February 2016 @ 13:49
Comment from: looby [Visitor]

I had an opportunity to get involved in a profitable transnational firm run by the boyfriend of a former classmate of mine. We were engaged in negotiations for several weeks, but I backed out before we were going down to meet the other partners.

“Yeah, they’re pretty serious people. First time I met them he apologised when he had to move a gun off the settee so that I could sit down.”

By the way Kono, I’m gradually working my way through your fascinating stories of your own enterprises and adventures. I don’t like reading lots of print on the screen though, so I’ve sent your entire site to the printers, who might find it an interesting read too! I’ve picked up on you and Sansara (A Buick in the Land of Lexus) from Exile’s comments section.

Wed 24th February 2016 @ 14:58
Comment from: J-P [Visitor]

I’d be the twitchy friend. The thing about blanking them is, well… we’ve surely all seen that bit with the glass from Trainspotting.

Wed 24th February 2016 @ 21:47
Comment from: [Member]

Yes, sometimes a graceful exit is the best option.

Trainspotting was our book club choice about six months ago. It was so good I don’t want to see the film.

Wed 24th February 2016 @ 22:24

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

  XML Feeds

Forums software

©2020 by looby. Don't steal anything or you'll have a 9st arts graduate to deal with.

Contact | Help | Blog skin by Asevo | Multiple blogs solution