I was approached, one night at the student union by what you all know of a ‘geezer’ Jack the Ladd’ ‘a lillul bit whay!’’
He looked like a total chav was a smart fucking dude! You had to translate a lot of his accent but when you listened, you could see the man inside, the man who could have been had he not been born ‘can-cil haz’ and his governments promises of ‘regeneration’ not been not forthcoming. This ‘geezer’ was also a bit of a total cunt; he was smart, just that his routine and his friends habituated his personality. Then the dole sent him on a new deal computer course (a.k.a ‘raw deal’ in dolescum socialite circles) and he discovered that he had an aptitude for it “I couldn’t fucking believe how piss easy it was” he had said while we supped pints at the bar and a young looking band thrash metalled their way through a Britney Spears song, (I remember that because the singers voice sounded as though his balls had only half dropped.
Not being judgmental, but a little stereotypical I had asked him how come he was in the student union.
Turns out the government are paying him to go to college to study I.T further because this yellow shaded, gap toothed Stella drinking misogynist got distinctions and full credits on every fucking course he took, and he wanted to learn more!
Was this the life changing, pivotal point of ‘geezers’ life, where he became a soft spoken father of three? NAH! Fuck off! Hello class resentment my old friend! ‘geezer’ is pretty fucked off at the government and although, really, it isn’t the well do do’s fault, his successes cannot erase the old ‘lacking in’ and ‘wanting of’ that is the cement with which every little Beirut is built from. Intelligence notwithstanding, his roots in his culture, are deep. So ‘geezers’ master plan is to slowly overthrow the government by stealing its money! “It can be done!” he always declares, just that, “it can be done” and you know he’s a bit too stoned and is thinking of his ‘master plan’ and is thinking out loud so you nick his spliff when his eyes glaze over, and you continue to beat up Anna in tekken because you hate the fact that she can grind you in the Bollox and is a total slut with shitty costumes. Am I waffling? I was just reminiscing I guess.
So he was in the student union because he had a student card and was a student, and a devious fat fuck who didn’t know how to do the scams he was thinking of. I guess you are intelligent enough to get the rest right?
The money he paid me to write programs came from; you guessed it….you smart fucker you! Drugs, pirated DVD’s and “wink wink’s” and ‘say no more’s’’ and ‘never you fucking mind’s fuck off and get us’ a coffee”.
My career in chemicals came from him too, bound to happen. Some time soon, anyway, probably.
I can picture the face of the ‘job centre careers ‘councilor’ when she quite rightly, gets a 2.30pm interview that folds itself into the chair and blocks her view of everything! And when she politely looks up from her notes, she sees what looks like a bull mastiff chewing a wasp that it is allergic to, smiling benignly at her! And probably got more of a shock when the voice that came out of that face was a ‘London suburb, sandpaper’ sound, but was in its diction, rather eloquent, the owner of the voice very direct and sure of what he wanted to do.
I…when I look back at this picture he gave me when he told me his life story, I picture her pleased surprise and perhaps a renewed interest in her work, she was ‘happy to help’ probably so she didn’t have to pay for him to get fatter and drunker anymore and his receptive enthusiasm and taking of slight patronizing, with affirmative nods and positive responses and honest but forced small talk grinds his gut deep down, while deep in his eyes, a small wry smile twinkles like a distant but important undiscovered star.
Okay, so I had this life where even my clothes were disposable, if I was on a bender and came down enough to realize that I was filthy and stinky would I go home? No I would go to a chemist or perfume shop and buy some decent smells, then I’d go to TopShop or some other capitalists rag store and I would buy new ‘threads’ and then I would go to the gym I was a member of and I would shower there and sweat out the crap in a sauna, then I would change into my new gear and I’d dump the old dirty, stinking shit in a bin or into the doorway of a charity shop I was passing. And I’d turn up my tunes on whatever fucking device was the latest, and into the pub I would swagger, coke, pub-grub, and lots of beer and maybe a feel of someone’s tit.
That was the cycle of my old life, the new one that I have been living in now for six years, began in a very unique way.