We're gonna make this a night to remember...
WELL I guess I might as well get this bloody over with.
Hello all, your friend an' narrator was indeed one of them unlucky sods that ended up in the back of a divvy van, destination; the stalks.
Aye for not the first time in me young life an' I daren't say it'll be the last I found myself in the disco van of the damned headed straight for Hades. Now, some of y'all are already aware that my father (an' the one true king) happens ta be a member of the blue checked bacon brigade so on arrival I tend ta get what I like ta refer to as special treatment, but what most might sum up by comparing it to the reception of a particularly well bearded Muslim at Heathrow airport. Far be it from me, lads, to question the judicial system of our fine and proud nation, but there's surely something remarkably wrong that at the age of six and twenty still the most threatening punishment for me of all time is that most perilous of sentences- "you behave now, or I'll tell your father."
And tell my father they do, ladies an' gents, an' down ta the littlest station in Hackney Borough comes our Lord and Savior himself, the mighty D.Comm Theodore Sweet to morally rescue the Prodigal Son.
Well, what a night that was, friends, what a bloody marvelous night.
Never mind all that though I suppose, as it's all over now, no point crying over spilled milk an' aw that is there? Still, could have done wivout it I can tell you, what wiv getting myself inta more trouble with mates the next day an' missing signing on- what a state.
Had my beloved therapy this morning, which went as well as expected. Still angry, still feeling pretty impotent (that's FEELING, you monkeys, not actually am), still want to punch Rafferty's smug face in, still crying about mummy and daddy bla bla BLA usual usual. Still, must be getting somewhere because someone shouted shite at me in the street the other day an' they're still walking about. Hopefully, it be dreadful ta think they'd been hit by a bus or fallen off a steep ledge or fell on a spike what went right the way through their neck severing the main artery. Just dreadful.
WHAT ELSE oh Yeah, my Drama course what Dajve got me for me birthday is starting up next week, so that's pretty exciting. Although, ha, Uniform of black trews an' t shirts... I don't own any black. Well, I got this one black lacoste shirt but it's got white stripes on it so I dunno if I'd get away wiv that. An' I have ta tie my hair back in class WHUT ha, that'll look well dodgy. Only time I put my hair up is for footie an' therefore the SPORT! factor overrides the GIRL! factor. Ah well, just a few weeks innit?
Hows everyone?
PG x
Hello all, your friend an' narrator was indeed one of them unlucky sods that ended up in the back of a divvy van, destination; the stalks.
Aye for not the first time in me young life an' I daren't say it'll be the last I found myself in the disco van of the damned headed straight for Hades. Now, some of y'all are already aware that my father (an' the one true king) happens ta be a member of the blue checked bacon brigade so on arrival I tend ta get what I like ta refer to as special treatment, but what most might sum up by comparing it to the reception of a particularly well bearded Muslim at Heathrow airport. Far be it from me, lads, to question the judicial system of our fine and proud nation, but there's surely something remarkably wrong that at the age of six and twenty still the most threatening punishment for me of all time is that most perilous of sentences- "you behave now, or I'll tell your father."
And tell my father they do, ladies an' gents, an' down ta the littlest station in Hackney Borough comes our Lord and Savior himself, the mighty D.Comm Theodore Sweet to morally rescue the Prodigal Son.
Well, what a night that was, friends, what a bloody marvelous night.
Never mind all that though I suppose, as it's all over now, no point crying over spilled milk an' aw that is there? Still, could have done wivout it I can tell you, what wiv getting myself inta more trouble with mates the next day an' missing signing on- what a state.
Had my beloved therapy this morning, which went as well as expected. Still angry, still feeling pretty impotent (that's FEELING, you monkeys, not actually am), still want to punch Rafferty's smug face in, still crying about mummy and daddy bla bla BLA usual usual. Still, must be getting somewhere because someone shouted shite at me in the street the other day an' they're still walking about. Hopefully, it be dreadful ta think they'd been hit by a bus or fallen off a steep ledge or fell on a spike what went right the way through their neck severing the main artery. Just dreadful.
WHAT ELSE oh Yeah, my Drama course what Dajve got me for me birthday is starting up next week, so that's pretty exciting. Although, ha, Uniform of black trews an' t shirts... I don't own any black. Well, I got this one black lacoste shirt but it's got white stripes on it so I dunno if I'd get away wiv that. An' I have ta tie my hair back in class WHUT ha, that'll look well dodgy. Only time I put my hair up is for footie an' therefore the SPORT! factor overrides the GIRL! factor. Ah well, just a few weeks innit?
Hows everyone?
PG x