My Life Oy Vay 9 (Diary Of A Drunk)
My Life Oy Vay 9
Ex girlfriend phoned me after we spent a couple of days shagging and drinking together, after which remorse and a hangover set in. I told her it will never work between us because we always end up getting rat-arsed and ill. And one of us will die prematurely. Can you do that? Die before your time? It's one of the great ontological riddles of our time. So she accepted that I was right and left. So she called two days later when I was rattling like a pair of maracas. She said "Goodbye Stephen I said "Oh yeh goodbye. I put the phone down. I thought that she was just coming to terms with the separation, then I thought is she going to jump out of the window? But the way I felt at that moment I really couldn't care.
The next day I was feeling slightly better and phoned my friend Chris, who's been looking after her and told him what happened. He phoned her cousin who's also been keeping an eye on her, and he phoned back to say that she'd taken a huge overdose and was in intensive care and it was going to be touch and go. Apparently she had phoned a friend, I made some sort of crack saying that it sounded like a rather extreme version of Who wants to be a millionaire? He didn't laugh. She had said the same to her as she said to me, her friend who has a set of keys, immediately went round to find her collapsed on the floor not breathing. I've always maintained that when all else fails the trick is to keep breathing. So she was whisked off to hospital where she was stomach-pumped and was on life support for two days. And the dopey cow do you know what she had taken? She had taken 170 anti-epilepsy pills - meant for her daughter's dog. Oh if it wasn't so funny it would be tragic.
I didn't think she was going to make it, I really didn't, neither did Chris, and inexplicably, on the afternoon of the second day; I suddenly burst into tears for no good reason. Must have been something I ate. Not like me. I don't do crying. Hard bastard me. She phoned just now and said she wants to come round, I said that sex will have to take place. She said al la Dick Emery 'You are awful'! I said that no I was just being honest which also is not like me, but that you can now make your mind up. God I'm turning into a saint. Mind you I was going to see the, by now, sixteen year old festucine junkie, so she'll save me Â£50. And she is a great shag.
Oh great news for us alcoholics. Those lovely scientists have come up with something called partial agonists. No these aren't people who write for newspapers and magazines on a part time basis, doling out information such as 'No if your dog seems to enjoy having carnal relations with your husband, I think you can make an accommodation. And you did say he was a good father'. No partial agonists or PAs mimic the effects of alcohol without the drawbacks. According to the wonderfully named Prof. Nutt in the New Scientist magazine, PAs produce only the desirable effects of alcohol. "You could design one chemical to replace all the benefits of alcohol and in drinks it could save hundreds of thousands of lives. PAs have the added benefit of being neutralized by an existing drug called flumazenil. So you can get squiffy, pop a pill and hey presto your sober. Mind you as it's a chemical they'd have to put bars in Boots the chemist, and be served by a pharmacist. Or just turn all pubs into chemists.
Why, in the Miss Universe contest, are there no chicks from Mars, Pluto et al?
Well the ex has come and gone if you catch my drift; several times actually. Yes we did the beast with two backs scenario, we had a few drinks and she caught a cab home. Why she no stay overnight I hear you say? This woman could snore for England. She did stay overnight a couple of weeks ago and I had to sit in the chair all night, unable to sleep. At least when I lived with her I could go and kip on the sofa. Also she twitches like a dog and her legs make these involuntary movements. She's a troubled soul alright: I guess that's the attraction.
I see Fatty Prescott has been up to no good, bonking all and sundry. If he's not bonking, as in hitting his constituents, he's shafting his many secretaries. I suppose that makes a brief diversion from shafting the country. He used to be known as 'Two Jags' Prescott I suppose we'll be calling him 'Two Shags' Prescott now. It'll be an ASBO for him with an electronic tag for his knob, but if you believe his mistress it'll be one designed for a child. He's been sacked from the Deputy Leadership but keeps his vast salary and his grace and favour flat. How true the old spoof of the Red Flag: 'The working class can kiss my arse I've got the bosses job at last'.
Can you imagine if Tony's dodgy ticker gave out, and Fatty 'shagger' Prescott had to take over, and make a visit to the States to meet Dubya, to thrash out foreign affairs?
Dubya's sitting at his desk scrutinizing some papers: the fact that they're upside down does not detract from the urgency of his gaze. John Prescott is shown in by an aide.
Dubya stands up to greet him.
D. "Hi Mr President I'm sorry to hear of your loss.
P. "Actually fookin' 'ell, I'm still only Deputy Prime Minister, Tony's not dead.
D. "That's what I meant, sorry for your loss, it's a joke. Good ol' boy Texas humour.
P. "Oh, okay sorry.
D. "How did Cherry take the news?
P. "Cherie you mean, she found it jaw dropping.
D. "Whoa, that's a heck of a drop!.
They both collapse with laughter.
After they'd comported themselves, Prescott put his briefcase on the table, flipped it open and lifted out a Dominoes Pizza box. He opened it, picked out a triangle of pizza and began gorging. He offered some to Dubya but he declined.
D. "Where's that accent of yours from, you don't sound like Tony?
D. "Whales, you were raised by whales?
P. "No, It's a country just to the left of England.
D. "Don't fuck with me man, even I know that's Ireland.
P. "No, it's that little bit that's joined onto England, but isn't England and it's full of sheep and farmers with large Wellington boots: so they can stay close to their sheep. Very close.
D. "Anyway, what's it like in good ol' Englerdom at this time of the year?
P. "Fook, it's full of tourists.
D. "Yep we got a load 'o' those goddam tursts over here too, most of them in Guantanamera.
P. "You put them in Guanotamo? I think I'll suggest that to Parliament when I get back.
D. "Okay lets get down to some business; I ran.
P. "You ran, you ran what?.
D. "I ran, I ran the country!.
P. "Fookin' 'ell, top man it must be 4 thousand miles across, 'ow long did it tek?.
D. "I'm sorry the drift of what your saying I'm not catching it, I'm talking about that country that we're going to liberate from war and incontinence.
Prescott looks puzzled.
D. "Fuck you just turn left at Holland.
P. "Oh you mean Iran! Sorry it's just the pronoun pronoun uh it's just the way you say it. We say it like they say it in Monty Python.
It's now Dubya's turn to look puzzled.
P. "You know, the knights who say 'nih'!
D. "Of course how stoopid of me, heh heh the knights who say 'nih' my favourite sketch.
Dubya suddenly yells "Bumsfeldt, Bumsfeldt, get in here and bring some beers!
P. "Ask him to bring a few pies in as well.
P. "Okay George, we got a country in Iran that disintegrating between our eyes what are we goin' to do about it.
D. "Nook 'em!.
P. "Bring on the pies!.
To be continued.
Stumbled into town to Sainsbury's: I've gone upmarket. Fuck I can see when I get my disability upgraded I shall be shopping in Marks and Spencer. It's a good job they had the foresight not to call themselves Spencer and Marks. I couldn't get the bread I wanted which pissed me off somewhat as I'm now limping quite badly and didn't need the wasted journey. I'm going to have to bite the bullet and go under the knife finally. Well not so much go under the knife as go under the hacksaw, angle-grinder and power-saw. A completely new knee is what is contemplated. Does titanium rust? Will I set off metal detectors every time I go through customs? As an aside, the original consultant I saw was a Mr. Ribbans, and do you know what his nickname was? 'Cut 'em to'------
I hobbled back home to find ex outside my flat and she of drink had partaken. She only has to have one glass of wine and I can tell. Her eyes take on an almost opaque look. But I thought what the hey, it'll be a ride. I hadn't had a drink and if I make sure she doesn't have too many, well she gives the best head I've ever had, male, female, animal vegetable or mineral. I can see, or rather feel, where her daughter gets her renowned touch on the violin from. Slight problem, I'd arranged for Maryanne to come round so we could go to the cinema. I'll think of something, I always do. Lying just gets easier with practice.
So we went upstairs, I pulled the curtains, pulled my trousers down and hers and she and I both came out of our ears. As we lay panting I suddenly said "Fuck!. "What? she said. "I've left some shopping down at Sainsbury's. Hey, I know, I'm a genius. I should write a book. "God is that all she said "I thought it was something really serious. "No. I'm sorry to have spoilt the moment, I just remembered it: but there is frozen food in the bag, I'll have to go down and get it. Sorry. We got dressed went outside and I said maybe she could come around later on.
Went to the cinema with Maryanne to see 'Brick' which was supposed to be a Chandleresque noir thriller. For me it was a little too self-consciously knowing. But not bad though. Better that than any of those Mission Impossible type films. Is it me or is Tom Cruise slightly odd? It's probably him.