WARNING: contains detailed adult themes and strong opinions.

Friday, 28 June 2013

7 Fuckers and Sinners in London

London is a lie. "It's the greatest fuckin' city in the world," they said. "You're so fuckin' lucky to live in London," they said. "London is the go-to city for anyone who wants to be someone, the hub of modern art and culture, the centre of humanity, the centre of the world," they said. London is a filthy poor mess of small alleys where human scum comes to try their luck. Like the rest of them, I ended up paying 30 quid to the prostitute residing in the rubbish bin next to mine.

When Magdalene married me I never planned to move from York. The accents make my stomach churn in excitement and the crude thick hands of the crude thick workers make me dizzy. When I heard we are moving to London, I rented a suit and pretended to be Prince Charles of fucking Wales for a day, but then I moved to London, and I never saw no Prince Charles of fucking Wales, and everyone looked better than me anyway.

If people were defined by the worst thing they ever did, we'd all be sinners and criminals. We all need to go rot in hell and prison and anything else Johnathan Edwards would want. So light yourself on fire, sinner, and make yourself an example!
But we overlook that. Who knew Gandhi treated his wife like scum?
Ah, doesn't matter! He wore a diaper and preached peace.

Then she left.

Screams and screams and pants and her head banging on the wall. Shut up, bitch or my wife will hear! Magdalene left me inside her as she walked out. She left me in London.
She left me homeless in London, inside a stranger from the an alley I used to call mine.

Dear Magdalene
I love you. I love how you hate my family, and how you hate yourself for not trying to love them like you love me.
I love the smell of your shampoo.
I love the way you sprinkle salt on your eggs in the morning.
and I love the way you make noises when you concentrate on something. Sucking noises. It's weird, but I love it.
I'm sorry sorry, you know I am.
I threw away the Simpsons for you. The melted ones too. I threw away the bad habits and the second thoughts and all the voices.
I threw away a part of me damnit, I threw away my posters and rotten shirts.
I even threw away the photos that make me squint at you and scream inside. I threw away the turtlenecks, and I threw away my phonebook, so I can't even phone no one.
It's true.
Love Malcolm

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