| My legs are grey. My ears are gnarled. My eyes are old and bent.. 20:19 - Jan 19 with 9900 views | Discodroids |
My mate tapped me up this afternoon about his 50th birthday this year. He wants to recreate our prime years, such as they were, by going to see a rare appearance from an old hero of ours, Sasha, doing a 9 hour progressive house set at fabric in june.
I Do so hope he appreciates my candor but pathetically , i couldn't circumnavigate the 9 hours without the doors of perception being flung open and the 5 known senses awoken from their benign slumber by taking some f ucking decent class A tackle.
Having been on the wagon for 7 years and undergone regeneration to some degree, All my illnesses, ailments, afflictions and aggressive growths that permeate my middle aged Carcass are in perfect equilibrium and thus negating each other in stalemate keeping me alive.
Yet just one more line of sawtooth peaked cut petrol washed chang slung up me hooter or another micky mills of comparative remedial quality taken in Synchronicity with a Sasha set , would end up with me in a bamboo casket and My mrs taking a string of lovers of many faiths, creeds and colours in the matrimonial bed and no doubt taking her to previously untold sexual sensorial heights while i'm still warm in the f ucking ground being nibbled at by wild rodents full of typhus.
Progressive House, Gear and Getting old.. What a bastard.
[Post edited 19 Jan 2018 20:24]
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| "...The monkey is never dead, Dealer. The monkey never dies. When you kick him off, he just hides in a corner, waiting his turn." |
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| My legs are grey. My ears are gnarled. My eyes are old and bent.. on 21:48 - Jan 20 with 1517 views | Brightonhoop |
| My legs are grey. My ears are gnarled. My eyes are old and bent.. on 21:26 - Jan 19 by Discodroids |
Its an old and long post from my time in the chalk stripe dojo of the bermuda triangle of ec3 but there you go..
My Life As a non marine reinsurance broker 1989 - 2006 ;
LLOYDS OF LONDON ‘MY WORD IS MY BOND’. A PAGE IN THE DIARY.
6am: Unleash bowel movement Purging yesterdays Petrol washed translucent flake cocaine and continental lager .
6.10am: Get up.
6.11am: Think about Killing Myself. Shower/ power w ank while thinking of the slaggy Basildon Receptionists Feet , toe rings and Ankle Chain and the way she chews her gum like a f ucking Horse thus processing remaining toxins down the plug hole. Catharsis Most Foul. Self worth at all time low.
6.45am: violent argument with wife.
7 am: No time for breakfast , off to work!.
7.45 am: Work. Print off black and white images from the internet of consenting adults engaging in sexual intercourse. Including c um shots. Toilet. W ank. Klix Machine latte.
8am : Work!..push papers around, stare at screen , tap pen on teeth, toilet, w ank. The residual effects of the hydrochloric salts from the coca plant are a sweet bitch.
1oam : pretend to read the publication ‘lloyds list’ while thinking of ways to steal the receptionists ‘Remains of the day’ high heel shoes in order to inhale the sexual pheromones and thus reach sexual nirvana and gratification asap in the office sh ithouse..
11am : ‘strategy meeting’ with other ‘non marine faculty specialists’.. in reality alcoholics all shaking like the drunken bakers in ‘viz’. Item one, agenda one , priority one ..liaise to meet in drakes wine bar or the english club 11.45am.
11.40am: pick up folders and with the determined look of east german sprinter marlies goher, stride purposefully to the ‘market’ with Duran Durans ‘hungry like the wolf’ ringing in your head eager for new business.
11.42am: simply decide against the exciting new buSIness venture of going to see some Underwriter c unt in his ‘box’ to talk stop loss triangulations, so head straight for ‘drakes’ in leadenhall market.
11.45am. meet with other ‘non marine faculty specialists’ to discuss covering each others arses if it all gets on top.
12.15pm: thoughts turn to the kibble ( Cocaine) and where we take our custom today. Will it be ‘wraps’, ‘bar bed’ , the counting house, the elephant or the wine lodge.
1pm: time to take the show on the road!.. press buzzer to gain entry into leman streets 'bar bed’s gentlemans club' upstairs behind reinforced fire door.
1.01pm: time to mingle!!. associate with ‘colourful’ collection of junkies, theives, bullies, c unts,pimps, 70’S Gangsters, Eastender actors, whores, sex fiends and reinsurance brokers.
4.30pm: leave establishment ripped to the tits and £2OO Lighter, but in possession of the life giving elixir that is the kibble. scurry off to lloyds of london for an appointment with inanimate object ‘the lutine bell’
4.45pm: Chew the s hit with bob the pristine yeoman at the entrance of lloyds, absouletly deranged and c unted , like im his long lost brother(while making a mental note to ignore him the next day, if i survive the next 24 hours).
5pm: leave bob crying/scared and go to meet underwriter for my 2.30pm appointment.
5.o2pm: w ank in bogs, really unloading a pootle of gear in a prolonged orgasm due to being on the kibble all afternoon.
5.11pm…. miss my 2.30pm appointment and express my apologies.
5:15pm ..’lunch ‘ more kibble and more pints in the hop and grapes leadenhall market. discuss exciting new opportunities within an organic growing market with other ‘specialists’.
5.45pm..return to office. pack up leave. Prise open the petty cash box for £150 and point the finger at the office cleaners…after all ‘my word is my bond’.
5.55pm..in to the wine lodge , more cocaine, more pints, more discussion on pornography, Normally the esoteric sphere of ben dover VHS Gonzo porn and canning town single mothers taking it up the kippax from 9" Meatus.
7pm..asked to leave by pub management, inventory reveals dangerously low stock levels of kibble ie 1/2 a gram.
8pm..leave the counting house restocked.! Another £120 up the f ucking Bugle.
8.15..in the cheshire cheese pub, reminiscing with other ‘specialists’ about our brave former comrades at lloyds of london that have fallen by the wayside and now live above a pet shop in a bedsit in eltham, either estranged from their wife and children or dead.
8.15pm to 9pm : have a f ucking good laugh about the above ‘fallen’. c unts.
9.01pm: scurry over to Bulls head passage Leadenhall market , knock out the theme tune to ‘Some mothers do have ’em’ on the security door. Spun round on the captains wheel then my upper case glutes being worked over good and proper by a congolese brass on an exercise ball . Snort a road marker of a line and like steve Ovett on seb Coes shoulder 200 meters out, time my orgasam just as im impaled on a phallic rocking chair while my Boss , The Deputy CEO of a bespoke Reinsurance world leader, screams ‘Yes I approve!’ from an iron maiden.
10.15pm: time for home!!!. ring estranged ex colleagues wife on train home , wired to fu ck and with propositions of a sexual nature, realise you have in fact rung your sister, but continue anyway.
11pm just in time to get a top of cocaine from colourful characters in the essex arms Brentwood public house, or to ring the travelling community to pop a gram round.
12.25: home time!, throw dinner in bin have another violent argument with wife, spend a night of fitful sleep on the sofa in my suit in waiting to do it all again. [Post edited 19 Jan 2018 21:30]
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Lightweight.  |  | | |
| My legs are grey. My ears are gnarled. My eyes are old and bent.. on 22:40 - Jan 20 with 1472 views | DavieQPR |
It's no good dying in hospital at the age of 95 of nothing. |  | | |
| My legs are grey. My ears are gnarled. My eyes are old and bent.. on 23:28 - Jan 20 with 1449 views | ted_hendrix |
| My legs are grey. My ears are gnarled. My eyes are old and bent.. on 13:20 - Jan 20 by Northolt_Rs |
On the way back from Manure cup game Ted? Aka as the coach journey of death!!! |
That was the one. |  |
| My Father had a profound influence on me, he was a lunatic. |
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