Poem- Scrubbers

Looking good

DEATH APPROACHES

Poem - Supermarket Slag

Supermarket Slag

I gave up workin 9-5 a year ago
Decided to become a professional Ho
That’s when I moved in to Tesco!

I Turn trix with me trolley
Meet me on isle sixteen
And ill show you me lolly’s and ice creams
Come eye me up and bye me
I’m just what you needs
I’m in frozen foods just near the peas!

Suckin all day long
I watch you shoppers
Suckin ice poppers
Pushin your trolleys getting stitch
Savin your coupons for turkey burger tits
Like mine!
Over a glass of wine
And chips
I’m versatile no style
Can be wild sexy dolly
Cum ride me trolley
Play hide and seek I’m a Tesco freaky
Slag wrapped in Tesco plastic bags

Glass of water (Part One)

So, after maybe a year and a half’s subscription to the Guardian’s Soul Mates dating site, I went on what was going to be my last date. I had decided when my subscription ended there was going to be no way I was going to renew it. I had said this before only to find myself, a couple of months later, back online again. But this time it was going to be different, this time I was going to kick the habit for good. I knew I could quit anytime so one more date wouldn’t kill me. Besides, as usual I had no plans.

With the invention of the internet had come great change in the world of communication, but mainly the biggest change that had happened since the dawn of the interweb to me was my relationship life. The fact that I now had one. Well sort of.This change had really coincided with my age too. In my early and late teens, early mid and late twenties I mainly met men in clubs, got really pissed and had one night stands. It always amazes me as to how many men I would have too sleep with before one of them actually rang me back.

And if I really start to think about the” relationship” numbers it really doesn’t add up to much. In my whole life I have “been out with” two people and a half at a push, ok maybe one. It is the nature of the gay world I would say, combined with my disfunctionality and bad taste in man and overall availability. Eventually you have to put all this down to experience and false memory.

Initially internet dating seemed to be my last hope at ever finding someone. It is such a seductive process not dissimilar to shopping on ebay, you want to make sure you get the best possible bargain with free post. It’s like shopping for your perfect life. You are judging people and your future happiness on a couple of badly taken photo-shopped photographs, and a short profile that describes them, with phrases like” down to earth” or “Sane and Sorted”.

I had put all my hope on this last date. The secret to my future happiness rested in a photo-shopped image of him sat on the grass on a hot summer’s day in a plaid shirt and faded jeans.From the look of those jeans and that shirt I knew this guy would be the one I would spend the rest of my life with, a life I had already imagined and fully planned out including our holidays, break ups, arguments and meals out to fancy restaurants. The whole thing had already taken place in my head before even meeting this guy. As everything had all happened in my head I could hardly be bothered to meet him. I almost didn’t need too.

And when I did it would only be a disappointment and it was for both of us.The first date was quite pleasant; although he didn’t live up to my preconceptions, I realised there was no way he or anyone could. I was willing to give him a go.I was quite good at dating by this point and had my technique down to a tee, including a regular script of questions I asked. I listened to answers with an interested look on my face that was well practiced; I would tell my well rehearsed funny stories with precision.Other rules included not drinking too much I had made this mistake time and time again, which made me prone to witter, wittering was never good! Never finish a sentence, when you have started it with “don’t you think it’s funny when…..”I found him very mildly attractive. A little bit boring maybe, but boring was a good thing I was telling myself, you know calm, and solid. Opposites attract. I noticed he complained a few times about our service in the bar and restaurant which I hate usually, but I let it slide as he may just have been nervous, or maybe the tomato soup was too tomatoee?The first date seemed interesting.

I knew he wasn’t my type and that I probably wasn’t his, but I did feel as though there was something there, something in-between us( table and chairs, our obvious hatred for each other? The fact we had nothing in common, the fact that we were both dating other people?) There was definitely something that I just couldn’t put my finger on. And also with the end of my subscription to Guardian Soul mates looming I wasn’t ready to give up on my last chance of happiness just yet.Although I didn’t initially fancy him it’s like my mum says, these things can grow. (like a tumour). And this was the week that I had read the preface of my Buddhist book again and had really taken note of some of the themes covered like “ be kind to yourself” or “ be kind to others” . I understood the first part. Even just saying you’re a Buddhist can sometimes make you feel at peace with yourself without the inconvenience of delving into the whole religion or reading a whole book on it.

So with this in mind I organised a second date. Ok, he wasn’t my type but he seemed like a decent guy, an upright kinda guy, boring, but wholesome. And more to the point I needed a boyfriend, mainly for something to do on weekends, and a way of saving money by not going out.Going out to pubs and clubs was very expensive these days, and I didn’t think I was any good at it anymore, I mean I was good at it, if anything too good at it, but the rules had changed whilst I wasn’t looking.

During the period when you’re a young teenager to your early twenties its all about getting as fucked up as possible on a night out, drugs, pubs, toilet cleaner, drinkin, smokin, fuckin, fags drinking!. The more crazy and wild you are the better; you are considered “cool” out on a limb, for being a complete fuck wit and wasting your life, the closer to the line you get, the cooler you are. Throughout this period I reigned supreme as one of the coolest people I knew. I was always the most fucked, and drunk at a party, I knew how to “av it”. As I had gotten older I had not changed, I was still binge drinking, getting completely out of it, and living for the weekends, but I could see the turn of the tide. It used to be behaviour that seemed so glamorous and cool previously, now seemed rather pathetic and desperate. All of my friend’s now sipped gin and tonics at small intimate house party’s and discussed their careers and were at home by 10.30pm. I had cottoned on to this shift rather slowly as I was always in some corner of these civilised gatherings, snorting pills off the TV and trying to pull my mate’s boyfriends.

These dating websites wasn’t t just about finding new men, it was also because I had ostracised myself from many of my friends and had just come to the realisation that the “party “ was over and I should try and get a bloke to stay in with where it was safe.

Glass of water (part two)

I would trade interesting and dangerous for wholesome and boring with a sour smile upon my face. My family would be so happy for me. Finally my life would mean something and they would know it, a nice sturdy, trustworthy, boring, cardboard bloke to spend the rest of my life with, I could hardly wait.A boring bloke with no hang ups. We would probably go on weekends to Bath, camping holidays in matching cagoules, go hiking in the summer. Listening to radio4 both in checked shirts, drinking green tea waiting for our home made bread to bake, not really saying anything just with meaningful smiles on our faces.

So I set off on my second date dressed in a checked shirt and cagoule.We had arranged to meet up at Albert’s memorial in Hyde Park, I had no idea where this was, and just stupidly thought it might be on the map of the park on my arrival, I was wrong.I was also late. I telephoned my date on my arrival to the park to ask for directions and after three blusterously windy telephone calls I was still none the wiser as to where he was. I was now walking by the lake following a curious bunch of elderly people being taught how to roller skate by an extremely posh girl with a pink helmet on explaining, “Its not natural to skate, of course you’re going to be nervous.”

Hyde Park is a strange place on the weekend, some alternative universe happening all over it, all I knew was I didn’t want any part of it.A couple more texts and a phone call and we met up an hour later than we were supposed too. I could laugh this off as part of my hilarious ditzy personality. He on the other hand didn’t find it as amusing, after spending about ten more minutes with this guy, I knew it was all over!In the cold harsh light of day, without the crutch of alcohol, I realised he had all the personality and charm of a glass of water. Indeed a glass of water can be quite pleasant at first sip on a hot summers day, however it does lose its appeal after the second or third gulp in which it just becomes tedious, tasteless and boring, not unlike my date.At least we had a focus; we were going to see the Derek Jarmen exhibition at the Serpentine Gallery. I had realised that this wasn’t going to work out because of the tone of his dull conversation.

Any sexual feelings I had for him had dissolved into hatred of every detail of his appearance. In this situation I still try to enjoy what the day had to offer and I escape into my own mind almost like going out on ones own, with company.We walked straight into the film area where we watched an interesting documentary on Derek Jarmin, his works and his life. I was so thankful to be able to watch this film as it meant he couldn’t talk to me and I could lose myself in the screen.After it finished I was sucked back into the boring present, we walked out of the gallery and picked up where we left off with our awkward conversation. I privately disagreed with everything that he said about the film and Derek Jarmin but instead of challenging this I smiled through gritted teeth and said yeah a lot.We left the Gallery and headed for the café. This was a high alert situation for me as I knew that there were two cafes in the park, one of which was a low risk easy affair and the other which was my worst nightmare realised.One, situated by the pool, is quite unpopular which I like. It is more of a snack bar that sells simple foods like triangle sandwiches with no taste and hot brown drink rather tea or coffee, and there is always somewhere to sit.

This is a place I can cope with; available seating and hardly any choice of foods are high on my list when looking for a suitable café. Its just a more pleasant experience for an extremely neurotic person who suffers from many undiagnosed mental health issues.The other café is always really busy, there is never any were to sit, I can never find the cutlery section, its always too noisy and hot, no air conditioning, too much choice, small children, animals, local farms, a zoo, knives hanging from the ceilings and mini explosions and small civil wars happening. Also you always feel like you should leave and that you’re being rushed. You can’t enjoy your meal. The whole experience drives me into a strained panic.Well, the glass of water I was on a date with insisted on going to the latter café of course. My heart sank, what was I going on about was my second thought, it’s just a café, what could be so terrible. What’s the worst thing that could happen? I knew I was lying to myself as these thoughts passed through my mind. I could tell my nerves were getting the better of me, I wanted to leave and make my excuses, but I didn’t want to seem rude and I did want a cappuccino!As we approached the café a feeling of panic began to come over me, my palms began to sweat and I began to have palpitations as I could see the roaring crowds inside.

He was completely oblivious to this and was half way through telling me a second story of why he had fallen out with his best friend and all the whys and were for’s.I hadn’t seen him so passionate about anything before. It was an odd topic to discuss with someone who didn’t know the third party and with someone who you are on a second date with. This kind of moaning is surely only allowed maybe after the 14th meeting. It was exciting to see him enthused about something even if the subject was negative. I realised then that glass of water seemed to have a par excellence for moaning that I admired.I was kind of past caring or really listening to what he was saying with other things on my mind, like my nemesis, the approaching café and also the weather conditions. The tension was escalating. I became frantic about the seating in the café.There was no seating, I could see that. Yes, no seating at all.

My blood pressure was rising higher and higher.I looked outside the café which was virtually empty. Thank goodness. I began to breathe again, it’s all ok, we can sit outside, yes, we can sit outside, and all is well. I focused back to glass of water’s dulcet tones when disaster stuck, rain. Little drops at first, then a full on freak storm. We rushed to the café to keep dry as did every other bastardo in the park.We walked in. The café place was heaving. What a rabble! I could no longer hear anything glass of water was saying as my nerves were at an all time high which makes my hearing go. I stood there stuck to the floor trapped with fear of what was to come. Glass of water shoved a tray into my hand “let’s queue up and get some food he said”Was he mad! Was he completely mad!

Glass of Water (part three)

I thought queuing up would be pointless. How could he suggest this!? Didn’t he know that on getting our food and paying for it we would have nowhere to sit and would be the laughing stock of the café?The shame of having food on ones tray, paid for, with nowhere to sit! Had he not heard of a public hanging?So I suggested we split up.

I could go hunting for a seat and he could get my food in the queue. This went unheard. “We will get a seat don’t worry”. Such a confident glass of water, he somehow prized me off the floor, and dragged me to the food counter.I looked to my left. I couldn’t even see the till and the queue was enormous. I looked around the café, then the queue, then outside the café to the pouring rain, then the queue, then the café, then the rain, queue café rain, queue, café, rain, queue, café, rain. “Can I help you sir”, I almost fainted.“Sorry” a tie dye blonde teenager person stood with an angry look on her face tossing scallops’.

I point to the mash “mash and margarita please”.It roles off my tongue, I’m no longer in control of what I am saying or doing. I am having an out of body experience. All I can think about is the humiliation that is awaiting me at the tills.Glass of water and I joined the queue awkwardly smiling at each other, at that moment I mortally despised him, the way that couples do after 20 years of marriage, but this was only our second date and it had only been 20 minutes!There was shouting, people rushing past us, a commotion. Another till had been opened. I was not fooled into leaving my queue and joining the other, weighing up quickly the pros and cons of such a move. Glass of water on the other hand had jumped queues and taken that risk. It had paid off as he was getting closer to the front.I could almost feel our table. Yes, yes.

Now more shouting was heard. “No hot drinks come to this till”. Everybody scrambled, glass of water was ruthless, he barged and pushed like a tiger in the jungle in a feeding frenzy. Hair and feathers were plucked, teeth were showing, shouting and squealing was heard. This boiled down to middle class English people giving dirty looks to each other and tutting.Who cared, he was near the front and closer to having a table. I was still in the queue for hot drinks. I had wanted to move queues with all the commotion, but my feet were firmly stuck to the floor. Queue changing doesn’t come easy for me at all, in fact it’s virtually impossible, and I was also determined to get a cappuccino to calm my nerves. The hot drinks line was the longest, and as I looked back it was the line full of most hate and anger.

I grew closer to the front of the queue, my blood pressure began to rise again, as I knew I would have to give the waiter my choice of hot drink and would have to speak in front of all these angry people. There was no doubt in mind they wanted my downfall; they were all just waiting for a moment like this for me to slip up.I could feel my body shake with nerves as I approached the front I started to rehearse my choice, “ill have a cappuccino please” “1 cappuccino please”, “cappuccino please”, “1 cappuccino pleases”.

I could feel my throat drying up my heart was in my mouth.“Order please”“One cappuccino now then please, if you please”I screeched, I sounded like a pre pubescent Chihuahua. I looked back at all the queue people sniggering and smirking, they had got what they wanted, lap it up I thought, lap it up!There! There!I spotted him; glass of water was out of the queue, what was he doing? Taking his time with condiments is what. My god, he should be searching for a table and seats. Instead he is wrestling with a small pack of mayonnaise and vinegar. How I hated him.What’s this! Yes, yes, he looks spirited, he’s seen something, he moves fast, he is out of my site. It has to be a table, just gotta be. My mood lightens. I will be able to enjoy my cold mash and margarita in peace. I go and pay at the till and look around. I can’t see him. He must be in some little nook around the corner, thank god.

I begin to enjoy myself at the relief of going to a table in a wonderful nook where I will be able to cast aspersions onto the rest of the clientele in peace.The next thing now was to find the condiments tray and cutlery, one thing at a time. I tried to stay calm. Ah! I saw it in the corner. Great, no worries there. I wonder over and peruse the selection of condiments, salts and peppers. I enjoy my time here now with the threat of no table shame. A thing of the past. I take what I need but there are no metal knifes and forks, only small plastic ones. This is of no real matter, I will cope! Everyone else is in the same boat after all. I take what I need and begin to walk with my tray to find my glass of water. I’m looking around, I can’t see him. Around the corner no sign, then suddenly he bounds around the corner.“Why aren’t you at the table?” I thought u had a tab?” I splutter.“No sorry, there isn’t anywhere“.I looked around, blood rushed to my head, everyone was starring at us, the entire café was just about to all burst out laughing because we had paid for our food and had no where to sit. I could hear it now.

It was coming.“Here “he said.“We will have to ask if we can sit at the end of their table”. What was he thinking, I felt like caviar in a burger. How could we sit here?! These people didn’t want us here which was very clear. We sat next to two rather large Spanish he-she with short cropped hair and stubble. Quite hard to distinguish their sexuality or gender.As I sat down I realised everything I said would be censored. I would speak, knowing that our not to distant neighbours would be ear wigging every word we were saying and judging me. I would have to answer questions to combat what I assumed they had judged about me. My accent became Joan Collins esque and I tried to reference Enid Blyton as often as I could.We relaxed very up tightly in to our meal, my cold mash all around the outside of my mouth as I blankly stared into my margarita pizza. Glass of water was complaining about the terrible service in here.