bichoose (bichoose) wrote,

Friday 13th July 2007.

Somethings in life i never seam to learn from,maybe there is a yearning from the dark recess in my mind never to give up on old ghost stories,once more found wandering freely amongst the dead,half dead brain cells,with the last few live dribbling ones whimpering away.Do i deliberately,open this recess,leave off the latch unpick the lock,for these ghosts to shout Boo,setting off a train of thoughts clanging down a dark tunnel to some forgotten spurred dead end,to simply repeat on and on.
Yesterday i once more pushed the on button in my tiny red vans wireless,amongst all the political flotsam,repacked,regarbaged churned out with a bright smile from Gorden Brown, our,should i really say our, and not simply the prime minister,and leave the gnashing teeth to splutter onwards,for the ballot box might as well be a box of oranges left on speakers corner in old London Town...i feel as if the wheel is going to roll around to a touch of Scottish Presbyterianism the words are already flowing out from the spattered speakers.
I am not a smoker of cig's,thankfully put off for life by school boy eyes watching my mother's habit of flicking ash into a saucer.However these past few weeks since the blanket ban of smoking in anything with a roof on across England,has brought out a feeling of sadness for these huddled souls stood out side doors as if having leprosy,new plastic, what can only be like bus shelters carbuncled in hotch potch form to sides of pubs,taking away that familiar comfortable sight of come on in and kiss the beer, have sprung up for the leprosy mass,i cannot think of anything worse than taking a swill of foaming mirth,running out side the Pub puffing away before running back into see if nobody has gobbed into yer pint pot...What ever happened to the Smoke Room,which you can still clearly see written on the windows of some old Pubs.What ever happened to choice......if by smoking you clearly came to a point in life were one last fag made you whither drop dead,not taking up one farthing of National Health money would the box of oranges sat in parliament be bothered..??
They are now talking about a fat tax,raising the age to consume ale,raising the age when children leave school,a film springs to mind with the hulk Charlton Heston about people turned into green food,how i thought bollocks back then,now i am not so sure,i have never known a period in my life when Can't is becoming a giant word and so many orders lie before the great unwashed to squash us further down the road to become, once more in line as children.Fumbling in our pockets for cocks,conkers, and sticky toffee stuck to paper.They know that the sticky toffee,cocks fill minds blocking out thoughts of wait a minute what the fuck is going on.I am at just as much fault as others which is perhaps why i sigh even louder now.
Today i had to look up the word " vain " once more a chattering female voice from the wireless said how vain men were who had there backs shaved..i thought oohhh yummy,then the train took over and the roaring began, sod it i thought,reached over and pushed the off button,thankful for the peace from the faceless voice as the echoing train drove on in my mind.

Further down the page of words from vain lay...VALGUS.....interesting i thought, twisted away,perhaps i should do more of it.

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