Once all those oranges run out, I'll light myself a candle and, in a grand gesture, pledge my allegiance to Africa, denying my transgression while contemplating the gray rites of demimonde entertainment.
In the hunt for innocence blasts from hallowed pasts reveal it takes skill to whack those doubts but as the mystery unfolds thrill seekers known to dabble in shallow activities center undue attention on our guilt stained consciences
In a room where lies are manufactured
Their honors present their lackluster Bills
Deceiving millions in the process
A little bit cheeky if you ask me
As you can see I'm on nobody's side
But I've gone and shot my mouth off again
What could eclipse this piece of bravado?
I'll go take a hike and cut my own throat...
one bus shelter
I thought it was all over
Fat lady singing…
It may have just been the start of it though, because… talking about bus
shelters, and fat ladies… … six months earlier, at a completely different bus
shelter, I bumped into Fat Kate, and her equally fat flatmate. They were stood
in wait for… yes, you guessed it… the number 88… Two fat ladies on their way to
the Slimming Club.
Now, I always got on well with Fat Kate, and it’s true to say, Fat Kate always
had a bit of a soft spot for me… Oh yeah, it was 48” in circumference…! But
over recent weeks, I’ve been getting used to seeing, quite literally, less and
less of now only ‘Slightly Overweight’ Kate and her ‘Less Fat’ flatmate, as the
pounds have been flying off! And… in an
odd kind of a way, the smaller Kate gets, the more she grows on me!
FFWD to the present date…
…And I’ve been seeing Kate for eight weeks straight… Now it’s ‘Kiss me Kate’
and I’m feeling great! Tonight though, ‘my’ Kate, and her, now aptly described,
Flat mate have got a date… with their gym instructor… But hold on, wait, the
number 88 doesn’t stop at the gymnasium’s gate, but Kate and her mate won’t be
late, if they hop on board the number… 11, appropriately enough… (Two slim
It was very quiet in the village, the day I decided to take the local Bus
Company’s ‘Official Guided Tour of Local Places of Interest’… So quiet in fact,
that I was the only person who’d actually forked out the rather curious sum of
£4.27 incl. VAT, for the tour (20% of that comes to the equally curious sum of
£3.41…!). However, the matter was cleared up, after a fashion, by the ‘Ticket
Issuing Officer’, who stated …“We tried to increase profits, by announcing a
‘zero tolerance - correct fare only’ policy, in the hope that we’d be able to
keep the change from all the banknotes handed over… only it kind of backfired
on us… everyone started coming with the correct change… That’s why I’m giving
you your change in 5,2 and 1 pence
coins… Sorry pal”
As if by magic, Dorothy McGuire, the ‘Official Tour Guide’, turned up just as
he finished speaking.
“Walk this way,” she smiled.
A million responses to that prompt flashed through my head, but I resisted the
temptation… You know how comedy is all about timing…? Well, it was five past
eleven, and Dorothy had a tour to conduct…
She led me out of the bus station, across the main road, and down a side
street, where stood an ancient, unused and derelict, concrete bus shelter,
which, Dorothy kindly explained, stood as a kind of monument to the original
bus terminus, dating back to before the ‘modern’ bus station was built… in 1974
“There was only one bus, back in those days… if you don’t count the Town
Festival Special… which only ran whenever the event took place… every 29th
of February… You didn’t want to miss that one home!” Dorothy was a mine of
information. “The regular bus was the number 74… and guess where it used to go
to…? I’ll tell you… All the way to… Macclesfield! She said the word
‘Macclesfield’ as though it were some far distant, exotic country. Then she
explained… “I love Macclesfield… just love the place… Never been there… but I
simply love it… I love the sound of the word, and the feeling I get whenever I
say it… It makes me feel so … good… all over…!” She winked.
“That’s, er… interesting…” was all I could manage…
“You know…” she continued “I’ve decided… definitely… I’m going to start lying
about where I come from… just so I can say… Macclesfield… and feel good… all
over…! I’ll be in the pub tonight, and I’ll deliberately get up to leave…
early… about nine thirty… ‘Where are you off Dorothy?’ my friends’ll ask, and
I’ll say… ‘Oh, I have to make sure I don’t miss the last bus home…’ – ‘Why?
Have you moved?’ … they’ll ask, and I’ll say… ‘Yes, I’ve moved to Macclesfield’
…It’ll make me feel so good… all over… Macclesfield, mmmMacclesfield… It just
sounds so nice and familiar… Like a favourite uncle… ‘Macc.’… that’s short for Macclesfield,
you know… Sounds just like an old friend, doesn’t it…? Just like an old…”
“Raincoat…?” I suggested.
Well, if looks could kill… Dorothy would be facing a genocide charge right now.
“I’ll have you know…” she scowled… “…a lot, and I mean a lot, of good things have come out of ‘Macc.’ …There’s the, er… you
know, the erm… …Macc Lads…! …for instance… You see… And what a considerately
named pop combo they are! No confusion
what-so-ever about where they’re
from… is there? I mean… You wouldn’t say… ‘Oh, I saw the Macc Lads in concert
on Saturday’ …just for someone to chip in with… ‘Oooh! I like them… they’re
from Crewe aren’t they?’…and for you to hit back with… ‘No… I’m sure it’s
Sandbach…’ …I mean, you just wouldn’t ever have to have that conversation…
“No,” I admitted, ‘…that is a relief…
But isn’t it true that in, er… ‘Macc.’ They don’t call them ‘The Macc Lads’…?
…just ‘The Lads’…?”
“There you go again, with your sarcasm… but you must admit that any town
that has a band called ‘The Macc Lads’ has to be… alright… mustn’t you? I mean…
Any town that has a band called ‘The
Macc Lads’ has got to be…”
“Macclesfield…?” I guessed… correctly.
Dorothy the Tour Guide tutted at me and started walking away from the bus
“But why Macclesfield?” I asked.
“We’re only a couple of miles outside of Manchester… a modern, vibrant city,
with so much history and culture… Then there’s the night-life, the music scene,
football… City and United… and some
rugby teams… possibly… … What’s the big attraction to Macclesfield?”
Dorothy sighed… as if it was blatantly obvious.
“You can see I’m a lady… can’t you?”
“But nothing… It’s quite simple really… Why choose Cotton… when you can have
running backwards into danger with a stranger by my side I tried to hide behind
a ranger who was several metres wide I'd slide my feet to guide me sweet from platforms seven eight nine ten but I should worry that my hurry wouldn't summon up the strength at length I’m calling falling forward
during rush-hour on the tube a cubic yard from guard to exit though it’s hard
to judge perspective next it’s up the escalator with a traitor from Jamaica our
creator Mother Nature and a Japanese translator...
A thousand lifetimes
later in a distant galaxy with scratch-resistant gallantry I’m courting
fourteen different girls with curls and ringlets braids and tassels scarlet
ribbons in their hair I swear I've died and gone to heaven I've got seven
brides on one arm seven sisters on the other lists of lovers everywhere it’s there the bubble bursts I curse my luck and gaze up into outer space the race
is on I’m sprinting faster hinting I'll avert disaster cast a glance from left
to right I’m asking can I sight solutions or infusions weak dilutions of
insipid executions of a concept in my mind…
it’s... one step... at a time… and I’m back… on Euston station… ...hesitation… realisation... as the train… ... draws… … ... to… … … ... a… … … … ... halt… … … ... … …!