I'd actually fled my normal 'local', due to my inability to suffer fucking idiots. It was get out or get arrested.
So, I fucked off across the road to a place I'd only ever been in once before.
Like a one act fucking wax works it was. Some young bloke sat there; Staring into his glass.
Landlord actually crouched down, to look under the brim of my hat. See my face. I managed not to explode in his!
At some point, the morose young man close by stood up and went somewhere. His movement caused me to look along to his bit of the bar.
Glasses case. Hard top. Like mine. Heh! And he must have been, what? Thirty something?
I knew better than to engage him in any effort at conversation. We both had shit on our minds.
But, in my head? I thought what I'd like to have said to him, when he got back to his stool:
" Fucking great, isn't it, mate? We go blind. We go deaf. We get fat. We die. "
Ye know what it's like though. Ye just come to develop that sense of when You're about ready to explode. The next cunt's got a problem of his own.
There comes an age where ye don't encourage the use of fists, feet, glasses and knives.
Just call ye cab and get the fuck home. That's the sensible approach to anger management
That said? If the drunken cunt in my local gets that guitar out again, next time I'm in there, and starts doing " Hotel California ", like he's beating a cat to death against a budgie cage?
I'll wrap it round his fucking neck!!!!!
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