I'm Standing In The Wind But I Never Wave Bye-Bye...But I Try

Mother got in very late the other night. She had this freak Nirab, leader of the big shot Christian sect, with her.

- Just away to the little girls' room, - went mother, me cringing.

Nirab came over and plonked himself down on the arm of the chair I was sitting in.

- Yer ma's hot stuff, - he went.
- Don't be getting any ideas. Anyway, I thought you were a man of God? Didn't think you lot went in for sins of the flesh?
- We've all our temptations and shortfalls, Danny. Especially us ones that're drawn to the divine...ha! That's a good one isn't it? I think I'll use it on yer mother, hey? What do you think...'Mildred...years I have sought the Divine, but I'm never closer to it that when I am by your side.'...What you think, Danny? - He went, licking his chops.
- I think you better get out before I tell my mother the sort of man you really are!
- Don't be darft! Your mother knows the sort of man I am. She wouldn't be after me if she didn't.
- I know your sort...Jim Jones, Charley Manson, Jesus...fuckin do a few parlour tricks and say yer the Son Of Man and you get to snake any girl that crosses yer path! 

I was getting red in the face.

Mother reentered the room.

- What you yelling at Nirab for, Danny? - Whimpered mother.
- He's a fuckin pervert, - I went.
- I know. And ain't it grand?! He's sexually very adventurous!
- You ever seen a woman squirt before, Danny? - Went Nirab, his rheumy right eye red and glinting.
- Yeah, master of it, - I went.
- Yer ma doesn't leave much to be desired you know, in the bedroom. See that tattoo she got on her ankle.
- Oh yes this lovely dolphin on my ankle, - went mother cooing. - That fucking witch Sam Cameron stole that one on me.
- Well I have a theory, - went Nirab rubbing his chin, faux academical like. - I have a theory that women with tattoos take it up the hole...

I got up and went to the front door.

- Mother, I'm going. I got what I came here to get and I'm leaving.
- Thought ye'd like to join us? - went Nirab.
- Fuck off, Jonestown!

At this mother threw her head back and laughed like a loon. - Go get the lube and the shitewipe, woman, - went Nirab, loud enough for me to hear.

On the way down mother's drive I keyed Nirab's car and broke a windscreen wiper off.

I prayed that on his way home, driving up the motorway, it would start pouring and having no wipers to clear his window to see where he was going and nowhere to stop he'd plough headfirst into the back of an articulated lorry at not an inconsiderable speed and die instantly.

I sat listening to records at home and dropped the last of the acid I'd creamed off the Jewish Hippies.

I reflected on mother's infatuation with Nirab, putting this one on to colour my surmisings:

Death Of The BT Couple

God in Heaven. I’ve just seen the latest instalment of that Vaseline tinted cunt saga of BT adverts they’ve got running with the incredibly irritating couple one of who is that guy from My Family, the one that got knocked down recently in Bristol. Just on one note, when I first saw My Family advertised in the Radio Times I thought it was a bland lighthearted comedy about Manson’s lot. When I read on I discovered to my disappointment it was a bland lighthearted comedy about a bunch of leukaemia potentials in South England.

Anyway. Back to these two.



I would like to suggest a number of conclusions to the (crook*) BT series. In the penultimate part of the instalment, the one I just saw, the pair are getting married. This is where my fantasy takes over. On the way to the ceremony in a horse drawn carriage she is taken out by a BT maintenance van driven by a Vodafone wielding chav who has stolen the said truck from the driveway of some burly BT worker, stabbing him with a set of his own BT issued car keys, ripping his belly open and stuffing a big Yellow Pages inside.
“Now dial every one of those fuckin’ numbers in there, you cunt, see how many dickheads you can sell a BT package to!” He yells before getting in the truck and driving away at speed.
He pulls into a side street sniffs a bag of glue, takes a couple of e’s and has a wank before he comes up on the pills, rendering his dick limp and flaccid. Racing through the awful Milton Keynesesque town where the annoying BT couple live he turns onto a street with much drug fuelled abandon smashing into the side of the carriage and running it up onto the courtyard of a BT call centre where they have a 2D iron statue of that annoying 90’s logo they had, that one with the man skipping along blowing a horn.



Said horn comes through the side of the carriage splitting her in two and revealing she was with child all along and it was a had- to-be-wedding as they are terribly traditional at the end of the day and have decided to get married to save on the embarrassment and also save the child the shame of being a bastard. The child inside her is still alive and is officially adopted by BT. In the years to come we see in a final final instalment of the terrible saga that BT Baby has been augmented with BT issue software, making it the first human ever to be hardwired with the internet, with BT as its server. It is hinted at but not made clear that the death of the child’s mother was all planned by BT using the chav as a Manchurian Candidate.

That OR one or both of the couple come down with terrible debilitating diseases, a multitude of them, due to all the wireless technology they’ve got in the house. They both heroically make it to the chapel on their wedding day and Cheryl Baker makes a guest appearance singing My Heart Will Go On,



while Neil Buckhannon (Art Attack) captures it all in the form of art.



She is still pregnant in this version and 6 months later their child is born and it is a BT cordless phone. When it rings in makes the Crazy Phone ring tone for the first few years and when one of the two go to pick it up St Anthony is on the other end.

Reuben communicated with me telepathically this afternoon. Telepathic communication is something we’ve been working on every time wee meet. It is safer than phone communications as they can be tapped into. Any time anywhere. He tells me to check out on Youtube the Michael Jackson ghost video captured by a CNN TV crew. Here it is. What do you think?



* I have issues with BT, cos they are crooks who overcharge me every month and won’t gimmie back the money I’m owed. I worked for the cunts too for 2 years and this isn’t going to be the second time I’ll let them fuck me over. GIMMIE BACK MY MONEY BT YOU CUNTS OR I’LL FUCK UP YOUR SKYNET FUCKING COMPANY!!!!


Also, Reuben also communicated with me that I should watch this video. It is, he tells me how he is feeling at the moment. MI6 have told him he has to launch a secret mission in Iraq, and if he doesn't he'll go to jail........