It’s approx 12am, which means it’s tomorrow!
‘Weathered Wall’ – David Sylvian
Why hasn’t Flash written to me? It’s been 12 days or roundabout. C’mon, y’basterd. I hope I get to your house next week, or this.
I’m orf to be-ad now. Sithi!
It is morning.
‘Godstar’ – Psychic TV
Hello, Flash, I’m missing you like fookarrgh!
I wish I had my crimpers, my dear bast-aaard squarents. My hair’s a raight skogger-heap.
I’ll see YOU all later…
‘What Do I Get?’ – Buzzcocks
I bet I’ve got to work at bastard Freddie’s shit yard. And I also bet I don’t go to Ponty. If either of these comes true, I’ll die. I can just sense it.
Be nice to me, Betty.
C’mon, Flash, get wraighting…
‘Don’t Dictate’ – Penetration
Betty is a narrow-minded, petty, selfish, stuck-up, silly cow. What a fuckin’ snob! She says I’ve got to go to the market with ‘em today to buy some new black jeans. Which is fair enough. But she refuses to let me wear my ripped ones when I go. I’ve got to wear my old shit baggy ones. How stupid and stuck up. She’s so childish! She said, ‘You’re not wearing them when you’re out with me!’ Well fuck her! I could say the same to her about some of the embarrassing shit she wears! I said I’d walk around by myself if she was ashamed of me, but she said, ‘No.’
God. I’m just about 17 years old. Not v. old in her opinion, but old enough in mine. I don’t wanna be walking round a stupid market with you. I don’t even want to go. Most especially in conformist clothes chosen for me by someone who is afraid of my own self-expression! I ought to rip those crap baggies up…
What a load of twats!
A new reign of hatred and despisation begins, and the enemy is my parents and this shit conformist society. I think ‘Anarchy’ probably IS for me. I will certainly consider it. My parents are ridiculous. They say I can’t go to Ponty next week. I bet they want me to work for Freddie. I refuse! They dictate to me based on their whims and then they expect me to conform to what they say with a smile on my face. Well BOLLOX!
A bit later.
I am now going directly against Betty’s ‘orders’ by wearing make-up. She’s getting angry. GOOD!
I just heard Freddie say to Betty ‘without my knowledge’ that I’m off to his yard tomorrow. Well Fuck ‘em!
It’s about 2.45pm.
‘Walking On Your Hands’ – Red Lorry Yellow Lorry
I’ve got some new tight black jeans. They’re alraight.
Now Betty’s said to me, ‘You’re gonna have to learn to stand up straight and stop bowing your head’. And also, Freddie’s telling me I’ve got to wear my shit leather shoes. Them old crap ‘uns that I never wanted in the first place. Conformist bastards! What do they want? A nice little prim ‘n’ proper boy all nicely turned out and wrapped in cotton wool? Save it for the baby, y’bitch!
God! I’m running away. I’ve decided. I’ve got to. I’ll go and see Tina Montgomery and ask her to lend me £14. I’ll then go away to Pontefract.
‘Dead and Reburied’ – Alien Sex Fiend
So. I’m definitely off to Fuckin’ Doss Yard. I don’t want to. What a toss. And I’m definitely not going if I can’t go to Ponty next week.
I HATE FREDDIE + BETTY –
THEY ARE BASTARDS
(unless I can go to Pontefract next week!)
‘Joe the Lion’ – David Bowie
I’m listening to to the “Heroes” LP by David Bowie, for a change. It’s a good ‘un, innit?
Well. I suppose my parents are okay. Sometimes.
Here’s the latest, kiddehs: Betty thinks my image shows her up. She says I ‘look like a druggie’. I wonder how many ‘druggies’ she’s actually seen? She says she doesn’t mind me being alternative as long as I look clean ‘n’ tidy. Well, a) give me my crimpers back, and b) as far as I’m concerned, I’ll look as tidy as I want to. Which reminds me. I’d better fix my crucifix as I snapped it on Friday…
Tomorrow, I will be working in skogger-land yard, carrying heavy pallets about, lifting them onto lorries, climbing up the side of lorries, tying pallets down, smashing bits of wood up, talking to uncultured gorillas and feeling scruffy, wasted and pissed off. I wish I was still at Tech…
BUT, Betty reckons Freddie says that if I go to work this week, I can go to Ponty next week. Even tho’ she doesn’t see why I should.
So, I’ll tire myself out this week, I suppose, and become immensely bored. But if there’s the chance of seeing Flash for a couple of days at the end of it all, it’ll have been worth it.
Maybe I’ll get my crimpers back as well. And I’ll have some money to go up with. BUT THAT’S ONLY IF Betty let’s me go.
We can hope. Or rather, I can.
My vision is this: I work for five days this week, earn some money, and go up to ponty next Saturday, which is seven days from now. I know I’ll hate the intervening time, but if I can go, it’ll be worth it. And while I’m up there, I’ll get my Easter money, I suppose, and my next £50 installment from Grandad + Grandma Winterfood. So I’ll buy some clothes.
So, dear diary, the rest of the week will be boring for you. But it won’t be half as shit for you as it is for me. IT WILL BE A TOSS. I HATED IT AT CHRISTMAS AND I SWEAR I SHALL HATE IT AT EASTER. I WISH I WAS ON DRUGS…
I am slowly coming to believe that anarchy may be the ONLY way. I’m not sure.
‘Dancing Barefoot’ – The Mission
See you tomorrow, when I’m sure I’ll be very jolly, yus!
Write to me, Flash, or’se I’ll die of boredom.
I’m off to bed now. I hope the nights last long and the days remain short.
GOD! I HATE THAT YARD AND THE PEOPLE IN IT!!! I HOPE IT BURNS DOWN!!! REALLY! I MEAN IT! HONEST! [Idiot – Ritch, 1998]
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NEXT TIME: ‘More fun…’