Category Archives: bukowski

think drink

The BBC news reported this morning that the government are tackling drinking again. They really can’t just leave us alone, not content with slapping health warnings all over fag packets (remember most doctors DO smoke, it’s just moaning GP’s that don’t, when they’re not losing their children) and then preventing us from fucking smoking them in public, they’re now having yet another pop at the poor innocent drinker, not just the ones that go into town centres at 2 am after a day on WKD and Magners to smash each others faces off and rape arses, the ones that drink quietly at home are also being targeted. I quote from the real Big Brother, “[the campaign] includes [targeting] slightly older, stay-at-home drinkers who may not know what damage they are doing to themselves.”

How patronising is that? I’m fully aware what I’m doing to myself necking a bottle of Medoc every night thank you very much, I’m making myself drunk. Yes, liver and  kidney failure, heart attacks, ulcers, falling down the stairs, slipping over in the bathroom and cracking your head open on the corner of a radiator passing out then choking on your own vomit blah blah…are all peripheral concerns but come on, I’m only damaging me and anyway, being pissed is great!

I’m not an ‘older drinker’ yet. I’m 38, so I’m heading in that direction. I offset drinking ‘too much’ at home but not boozing during the day (unless at festivals or parties etc.,) never at lunchtimes during the working week (and seldom, if at all, at the weekends) maintaining a healthy diet, fresh vegetables organic foods, taking in plenty of fluids and indulging in moderate exercise, cycling, chin up’s, masturbation, that sort of thing.

So, how are the government going to inaugurate public awareness?

There going to do this by, guess what, slapping health warning all over the bloody shop and then restricting overt advertising and promotion of alcohol, just as they did with tabs a decade ago. In pubs posters will display alcohol levels on drinks (everyone fucking knows how much booze there is in beer, wine, whisky…etc., if you don’t you’re simply a very thick twat and shouldn’t be allowed to eat let alone drink). Dr Vivienne Nathanson, the BMA’s head of science and ethics, said: “The trouble is that whenever you are in a pub you do not ask to look at the label on a bottle of wine”. That’s because most decent boozers will have shown you already, asking again is a bit, well, weird.

Presumably the gov are getting something out of this, happy to glean the vast revenue in taxes from both drinkers and smokers whilst maintaining a ‘come to mummy for a snuggle’ image. I should imagine it has something to do with the NHS and crime, they figure that by dissuading the hardcore boozers to have one less it will take some sort of pressure off the social services. Or maybe they are just looking forward to the huge revenue accrued by forcing the drinks industry spend millions on ‘drink aware’ campaigns in order to covertly promote said tipple…

Either way I did another booze free last night, I’m capable of realising that if I’m drinking too much it’s down to me to take appropriate action, or at least, offset my booze intake with a healthy existence in other respects.

I’m off down the pub tonight though, I was going to put in another booze free night but just to spite the powers that be, I’m going to go out, drink 18 pints of Stella, return home, 2 bottles of Claret, numerous nightcaps and see if I can die in my sleep, just to spite New Labour’s silliness. Then they’ll have to have organise a campaign of ‘don’t get out your face to spite New Labour’. My bloated red face on a pillow of puke will be all over posters as a warning of fighting the government through sheer bloody mindedness in the face of patronising booze campaigns that have a hidden agenda.

Cunts

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lost in music

I managed to get to Fopp records at just the right time. The hairy arsehole on the door had told me The Idler event was full to capacity, I curtly informed him I was on the guest list (I’ve no idea if I was) and in I went, instantly bumping in to a newly married Den. Perfect.

The first band on were The Rubbish Men of Soho, who were deliberately shit, the joke wore off after 15 seconds and Den and I went out for a fag. In the small courtyard behind Fopp half the guests were huddled in groups drinking and smoking, the atmosphere was far more congenial and within seconds Den and I were besieged by old familiar faces and I was introduced to the ones that weren’t.

We retuned to the bar where Den was in the superb position of not having to pay for his drinks, the gratuity was passed on to yours truly. Air Hammer, who I was informed was a classically trained opera singer, was a one man band, a cross between Lee Evans and Dennis Pennis with a guitar, it started well at least. The headline act were Zodiac Mindwarp and The Love Reaction. Way back in the late 80’s this outfit made a bit of a stir in my little group, Zody himself was the crush choice for most of my girlfriends and I was a fan too, of the music I hasten to add, I’m not a good listener… They put on a sterling show, they must be in their 50’s now but he’s still got it, even stripped to the waste on Prime Mover he didn’t look like he was a man facing a bus pass application in a few years. After the show I introduced myself to Cobalt Stargazer, the guitarist, who was drinking 2 beers by the stage, he didn’t seem too keen on making chitchat, but I persevered and impressed him with my tale of the trip to Durham high security prison to meet a mate who’d beaten his wife’s lover to death with a lamp stand, purely because he was a Glaswegian and my incarcerated mate was from Fife.

Den and I hooked up with chaps from The Chap and an illustrator in fantastic heels and we all fucked off to Soho. Somehow Den and I engaged in deep discussion lost our companions, Den invited me to The Groucho for a bit of peace and quiet and a chance to continue our chat undisturbed. I bumped into a former member of the Jesus and Mary Chain following a much needed shit in the toilets and being subsequently lost in the labyrinthine mess of stairs and corridors, who joined us with a couple of charming Cambridge university students who were already up to their necks in daring do.

Den left at about 11.30 and I followed shortly after as I didn’t want the expense of a cab. I rushed down Dean Street and got to Oxford Circus in the nick of time. The fucking tube was packed solid and after being made to wait at Stockwell for what seemed like a lifetime, my teeth now floating from all the beer and wine. On the platform a thin tattooed girl with haunted eyes was playing the violin with enormous skill, clearly classically trained and with an addiction to narcotics I was transfixed by her, I even gave her money muttering, ‘I’m patronising you giving change, but so be it’. She smiled weakly, I moved clear.

I arrived home at 12.30 hungry and, probably, stinking to high heaven. I resolved both and hit the hay at sometime after 1am.

I arrived to work on public transport this morning as there are after work drinks for a departing member of staff and a myriad of options follow, all of which require me to not be aboard my black bitch.

Todays offing is appropriate, in fact Den has asked me to take his wife when they play at the RFH, I’m sure Myfwt would like to come too…

It’s not raining today by the way, in fact it’s fucking sunny