Lunging at straws in the dark with girls

“So, have you ever called on of those late night phone sex things?”

The collective around the pub table fell silent.  Simone made eye contact with each person, ginning like a toad, looking for an inch of response.

Johan had half a fork full of the side salad hanging from his mouth whereas Leona just looked shocked and a little flush. 

Sara and her mother walked away in disgust and took their bowl of crisps with them as they made their way to the beer garden. 

Simon scanned around at the people sat on the faux cockney squat bar stools to see if anyone would respond to his question looking totally puzzled. 

No one did. 

What is it with people wearing denim on denim recently?

I have just spent the last hour of my life bumping elbows in the Christmas shopping crowds with a pack of Brian Adams impersonators.  I didn’t think the Strokes were popular again.

I always thought that people bopping about in ‘Canadian tuxedos’ were considered total douchbags and shunned from society.  Even in the 80’s it wasn’t cool and you could get away with anything fashion wise back then.  Leg-warmers dude, leg-warmers and head bands.

But that being said I did notice that the retro thing for the 70’s then 80’s started to speed up quite a bit and was killed off with the new rave thing from the 90 in around 2008 because it was shit.

It got to a point where retro had caught up so much it was last year’s stuff repackaged.

So, something had to be done, right? 

And what did the good people of Old London town turn to?

Yep we are going back to when everything was in black and white and rock and roll was just a thing kids had just started to listen to.  We are talking baby boom era, pre-rockabilly, short back and sides, braces on your trousers and proper shaving products late 1940’s.

And about time too! 

We are going through a retro movement that means grooming and sharp dress rather than some rehashing of some terrible, unwashed youth counter culture.  Look at the nineties, fucking grunge.  Who the fuck wants to walk about looking like that anymore?

Ripped jeans and skanky jumpers; looking like you’ve just been raped by tramps in an old oil barrel, then got dragged through some sort of prickle bush.  Fuck that shit, I aint ever going back.

And you can keep that mod crap, their suits might be sharp but have you seen the state of their skin.  All that cheap whizz has a price, people.  And let’s not forget that their music aint all that, unless you have a dig through the northern soul stuff, some of that is pretty tight.

Paul Weller smells of piss and don’t even get me started on The Who. 

Didn’t one of them get done for having child porn images on his computer then say it was for a book he was researching?  The one with the big nose and the busted ear drums, that cunt.  When did that book come out, I can’t recall?

Fucking nonce! 

Speaking of retro paedophile mishaps, I can guarantee that ‘Goldie Looking Chain’ are regretting basing their image on Jimmy Saville; all that jewellery and charity shop track suits, wankers.  Oi son, your hero is a paedo!

Whatever happened to the GLC?  Did everyone just stop finding poor quality hip hop and corner shop, hash smoking hooliganism just a little too much with that Welsh accent?  Yeah, I thought so; so what if one of their mate’s mum has a penis, she probably still has a career.

Speaking of career, I was happily informed about a month ago by my computer that I have been running my blog for over two years now and that it was a celebration.  At the time I was just waking up and still lying there in just my pants so wasn’t in the mood for partying.

To be honest I had totally forgotten about the notification until I was clearing out my email account junk mail from out of date porno subscriptions and loan reminders.

It did however give me a rundown of the last couple of years, stats and highlights and all that.  So I had a little look see to see what has gone down in my blog world.

There were a tonne of posts that had flashed up in a sort of ‘greatest hits’ and I had a bit of a read through and reminisced.  It was also a bit like therapy in a way, the way a doctor would go back through old case studies to identify the defects within a new patient to figure out what’s wrong.

As it turns out I have realised that I am a self-loathing yet narcissistic, bum fighting, celebrity hating, porno obsessed, blood fetishist that can’t hold a decent conversation with anyone without offending/making them cry.

I made a girl cry down the pub a few weeks back when I explained to her my feelings towards mortality.  She did ask.  Fake arse goth chicks.  They play all dark but when it gets real, they run home to the burbs and hide in their on-suite bathroom.

But really, it hasn’t seemed that long since I started this thing and the support that I have had for it over the last year is overwhelming.  It’s a conversation starter now too, “I saw that post you put up the other day and…”  It either ends in a hug and a fist bump or someone wanting to kick my head in.

The amount of hits that I get now is absolutely mental and aside from the occasional death threat (for those people, don’t get hit by a bus, that would break my fucking heart) the feedback has always been really positive.  So well done you lot.  What started out as a bit of a laugh for a college project turned into this seething mass of sweaty, pounding flesh and bile flavoured vitriol.

Let’s hope that the decision to go full time with writing in 2014 pays off;  it will be you lot that I come for when I lose everything because you got my hopes up.  I kid; I’ll make it work or die trying.

You are all my psychotherapists, thanks for listening.