Hiroshima Yeah!
Issue 49
March 2009

"It's a tame, tame, tame sort of world", the Germs once sang and it�s getting tamer and LAMER by the year as Fame Fascists roam the streets, designer accessories proudly on display like swastika armbands. Kids don�t want to be musicians or writers or actors, they want to be �famous�. Ted Bundy is famous. Albert Einstein is famous. Paris Hilton is famous. There is no distinction anymore. The NOT famous, but very lovely, HY! Hunks pictured are Sam and James, noble citizens of the Horseshoe Bar. You can read old issues of HY! at www.geocities.com/hiroshimayeah and, when you�re bored with THAT, why not check out www.markeitzel.blogspot.com too? Blogs � and people who blog � are almost ALWAYS really dull but Eitzel could NEVER be accused of THAT! R.I.P. Fes Parker, Blackpool�s unshackled son.

WAGE SLAVES
Up with the lark,
we trudge the cold, silent streets
towards buses and trains
into which we obediently file.
Huddled together like battery hens,
we avoid each other's gaze,
staring instead at newspapers,
books and iPods.
Then, to work,
that filthy quagmire
where even our bowel movements
are closely monitored by officious bosses
high on the weird electricity
of their own power.
Our days are eaten up by a mixture of
boredom, resentment and petty victories
as we count down the hours to the time when,
on cramped, freezing buses and trains,
we depart once more,
back to the suburbs, housing estates
and sad little dreams from where we came.

THE MORNING WAVE
They come at you in waves,
business-suited zombies,
blank faces, dead eyes,
cigarette smoke clouds rising like
flies from a carcass.
They drag behind them
the dead weight of mortgages,
children, neighbours,
credit cards, migraines,
car insurance, home insurance,
travel insurance.
They long for the moment
when their cappuccino smiles kick in,
when they can laugh and joke
with their colleagues
about soap operas, in-laws
and other distractions.
But, right now, they're zombies,
coming at you in waves,
monstrous waves,
waves that swallow the bright truth
in your soul.

POSTCARDS FROM THE ROAD
All the roads we've driven down
through the years,
roads of wretched lust
and continual evasion,
taking us to places where
we fought, drank,
lost ourselves.
The brickwork may be crumbling
but the memories remain
like whispers in the air
that whizzes past our ears
as we drive on,
on to the next town,
the next memory.
Until,
imprinted on our tainted hearts
forever,
a red sea of stop lights.

WORM TRAIN
The train moves
like a worm
through the darkly
silent towns
where love hides
beneath concrete,
beneath stone,
where love hides
like a dirty secret
locked away in hearts,
in minds,
in sorrowful tongues
too afraid to
spit out anything
real.

GIRO SLAVES
We stand in line like subdued cattle
trapped within the grey austerity of these walls,
clothes heavy with the aroma
of last night's wonderful chaos.
Some of us are loud and brash,
sure of ourselves like Hitler was sure,
while others shyly toe the floor
and wait,
wait for our names to be called
and for the moment when we are free once again,
free to roam the streets unfettered,
free to explore all the hidden treasures
of poverty's bleak romance.

13.7 BILLION YEARS OF HELL
Selected Dispatches from an Unwilling Player of God�s Little Game
By Gary Simmons

Isn�t it exciting to �get� a black (well, half black, half WHITE) President called Barricade Your-Bumhole? I�ve got the HOTtenTOTS for his wife and the TOTtenHOTS for his KID! (Er, the OLDER one, excuse me!) Better, even, than Hell-Hairy CLITORIS!!

MINK STOLE AND CAT�S LEAK �DEAR SIR OR MADAME, PLEASE SEND ME COPIES OF THE FOLLOWING DIGITAL VERSATILE DISCS; �PIGGERY PERVERSIONS�, �KINKY SCHOOLGIRL� AND �TOXIC ASS SEX�. ENCLOSED PLEASE FIND A CHEQUE FOR �24.97. MANY THANKS, REV. TOWNSEND GLITTER-QUILTY. P.S.- SHOULD ANY ITEM BE UNAVAILABLE, THEN MY ALTERNATIVES WOULD BE �SCHOOLGIRL SEX� OR �HOLLYOAKS � TONY AND THERESA GO TURBO-FUCKING�. PLEASE ACCEPT THE ASS-YOUR-NANCY�S OF MY HIGHEST CONSIDERATION� PLAYLIST
WHITEHOUSE � LIVE ACTION 47, 12TH APRIL 1990, UNION TAVERN, LONDON, UK. Cassette (MY very first Whitehouse gig, THEIR first one in over five years, and none too soon for BOTH parties, eh? Allow me to a�quote Bearself on this one, from an extended interview I gave to Gaze Into A Gloom magazine, back in 1999; �I have attended 3 WHITEHOUSE live actions, all in London. This does not include one aborted show on 5 June 1982 which I went to but was cancelled. I still have not had my money back but I do still have the original ticket which is at least worth my expenses � plus. I was young, 23, alone, in an unfamiliar part of west London, in an old and abandoned school building � a �Spanish Squat�. Yeah, sure I was nervous. Nervous of the place, nervous of the band who didn�t show! It was another 8 years until I saw my first live action when they came back after 5 years of being off the scene. This was the 12.4.90 live action #47. I�d heard a rumour that WHITEHOUSE were going to lock all the doors of the venue so that the audience couldn�t escape! Just like the Klingon commander in �Star Trek III� I �trust my instincts�: again I was nervous and had good right to be. During the show some huge guy tried to lift a metal flight case into the air. It came crashing down. I don�t think anyone was under it. Later a bottle went flying above my head and hit someone further back! I didn�t enjoy this show much, also musically I was still na�ve to what WHITEHOUSE live were about. I was expecting exactly the same sound as on the records despite owning a few live tapes. I missed the point completely and didn�t understand the �silent� track as a live version! They just stood there with no music, the crowd shouting with chants of the day! I thought �this is crap�. I was very disappointed. It wasn�t until a couple of years later when I saw some live action videos that I �saw the light� and thought the whole thing was excellent! Maybe you have to learn how to appreciate WHITEHOUSE, to require more information before making the decision is this good or bad. Whatever you choose it could never be just mediocre. There is no middle ground with WHITEHOUSE.� Susan Lawly)
UN CHIEN ANDALOU � A FILM BY LUIS BUN?EL AND SALVADOR DALI. DVD (Always wanted this and now� I�ve GOT it! Yeah, I was fuckin� MAD on Dali at school, where I first discovered him via a big reproduction of his Madonna of Port Lligat hanging on the landing of one of the Konzentration Kamp-like stairwells of Night(mare)ingale Secondary Modern. Of course, I�ve viewed Un Chien Andalou umpteen times before but, in this age of consumerist take-home-and-keep definitive versions of all MANOR of succulent filmic joys, I simply HAD to part with my pliably-earned 18 Euros in the Heaven-on-Earth three floors of arty-fartyism Queen Sophia Museum shop, or whatever it was called, in Madrid. Made in 1929, the film �opens innocently with the words �Once upon a time�. What follows is one of the most shocking and celebrated sequences in film history�� Extras include enlightening interviews with Bu�uel�s son, a bit-of-a-mess of an audio commentary and, well� not much else really, as the total running time is only 55 minutes (17 for the actual film itself). Still, I love it dearly and the leading lady, Simone Mareuil, causes my testicles to fuckin� boil-over every time I watch it. She�s HOT! Transflux Films. 2004)
WOLFSBANE � DEMO ONE. Cassette (�In the bleak January of 1985, Wolfsbane recorded their first demo. It was done for 40 quid with an 8-track machine. It took one Saturday to record and one Sunday morning to mix. It was engineered, half by someone we think was called Steve or Dave and half by Julian Cope�s brother. John Buckingham (A.K.A. Stakk) played the drums and that is the only difference in the line-up. This tape is not meant to be representative of the band now, but is a nostalgic glimpse into a reckless and often amusing past.� I got hopelessly HOOKED on Wolfsbane the second time I saw them, Friday 13th November 1987. From my diary entry of that date: �Got ready and off to TCR, Virgin. Presley�s full of undesirables so I go to Bath House. Met Steve, Oldham, Chris for � an hour. Then off to Marquee. I see Mario and then sitting on the floor is Kati. Kisses and I got her a Guinness. Jamie was there with two ginks. Mark was there too, looking idiotic and desperate. Wolfsbane were absolutely great, so were Tattooed Love Boys. I even bought a Wolfsbane T-shirt, �5! And Kati comes home with me!� 1985)
SATORI � CONTEMPTUS MUNDI. CD (Funny, I always held Gary Mundy in the highest regard. HARGH!! This is a rather sturdy collaby-wab betwix Justin-of-Cold-Spring�s Satori and �Magus� (?!) Peter H Gilmore, �High Priest of the Church Of Satan�. Snigger you may� HOWEVER, the only lyrics , in the 46 minutes duration of this dark soundtrack electronics CD, a spoken text adapted from an essay entitled Pervasive Pantywaistism, by Mr. Gilmore, is pure Sutcliffe J?gend/Sadean and, dare Bear say it, Hiroshima Yeah�esque animosity for the �weak, whimpering fools� (� GG Allin) of our age. �Society is pervaded by a patronizing protectivity shielding the timorous from ideas that might be inimical to egos fragile as sodden tissue paper.� BRILLIANT! And it�s all delivered in an OMP carbon nanotube of a voice that you could, maybe, spin into a molecular thread, a �hyperfilament�, I say, for to build The Space Elevator with. I see thee unlit! HAIL SATAN!! It�s just a damn shame that Abby Helasdottir�s (abby.gydja.com) cover art came out a tad darker than it is on the promotional flyer� WELL worth a reprint. I�ll pay. Cold Spring. 2008)
WHITEHOUSE � NEW SADIST. T-shirt (Far too precious to wear anymore, I�m just showing off to make up for my steadily inflating belly and increasingly floppy dick, honesty being the best policy. Come Organisation. 1983)
MOUTHFUL OF GRASS � LIVE GRASS. CD (Thermonuclear heavy Blues Rock and THEN some! From the moment you press �play� on this home/own (?) produced CD-R it feels as if all 3000 TONS of a space shuttle Crawler-Transporter vehicle has come crashing slowly into the gaff, grinding everything in its path to powder. Well, it sounds quite heavy to ME, anyway. Martin James� guitar isn�t far off from �that bit� in Hendrix�s Voodoo Chile, YER-AAIR!! The song Pewter Jug SHOULD be put out as a KAW limited edition lathe-cut 7� (shuuush� Mark doesn�t know yet) b/w Forbidden (which ISN�T about Lolita, �Blues� Dave Mackenzie � bass and vocals � assures me, but, you know, once it�s been BURNT into your (er, MY) mind, and then you�ve got little �C� who-lives-down-the-lane�) A Peter King lathe-cut, I say. ALAS! The very last of my �life savings� was blown LONG ago on the, now notorious, Timo 7� I Must Be Right. �Contact and interact� with Mouthful of Grass at www.myspace.com/mouthfulofgrass. WOOH!! 2008)
NIRVANA � BLEACH. LP (Didn�t actually play this coz I�ve NEVER actually played this. In fact, it�s STILL in its shrink-wrapping despite being purchased in 1992. Jam-Kak-dung-hole mentioned Kurdt Kobain in a text (sent last year!) so I decided to a�slide this lovely item out. My nipples are as hard and as erect as BULLETS! As it goes, this is the only record I EVER bought as an investment. I was �working� at Tower Records number one Pick-ya-willy-Surplus at the time (1989-1993) as a �receiving clerk� (what a fuckin� joke THAT was!) Nirvana was played pretty much every day down in �our� basement� but not by me. Nirvana is FINE, but I was distracted by �things�� other �things�. I replied to Joam�s text with: �Neva was in2 Cobain. Th only LP i eva bought as an INVESTMENT was Bleach in splattered vinyl w blue vinyl 7� 43/500. �13.99 minus Tower Recs staf discount = �10.07!�  Sub Pop. 1992)
SATORI � KANASHIBARI. CD (CD reissue of a, presumably gorgeous, limited edition Japanese vinyl pressing on Dogma Chase from 2007 (well, THAT didn�t take long� William Bennett you�re NOT!) with a new bonus track (though, as to which one, �it� don�t say) from the UK dark ambient/fortean electronics act, who ARE; Neil Chaney of Pessary and Justin Michell of Cold Spring Records. �Kanashibari is the Japanese term for sleep paralysis (�bound or fastened in metal�). Satori explore this phenomena, manipulating fortean sounds with deep dark ambience�. And� it works WELL! Perfect, as so much of this genre is, for a�late-night pen-pushing into thee wee hours, imagining that you�re a REAL journo, preparing that oh-so important Coldplay piece for publication. I like Justin, �The Squire has SPUNK in him!� � � G.B.Shaw (same initials as one�s own, I�ve just noticed!) Cold Spring. 2008)

HY! CON-PER-STITCH-UP #3
To win a copy of �A Country Fit for Heroes � Volumes 1 and 2�, 24 tracks of punk/skin mayhem, trickily answer the following POSER!!!
Did GeroGary get thrown out of the Elephants Head in Scam-Den (and subsequently, hear me out dear reader, BARRED) for-
A � Attempting to buy a Stella for an underage Finnish punk chick?
B � Exposing himself at the bar?
C � For drunkenly calling the clientele a �Bunch of last-thing-you-all-are-is-Rock and Roll, ya stereotypical cheap-imitation punk-catwalk-prowling IDIOTS! None of you twats has got�� And then I was bounced.
Answers on a space, sex or religion-based 3D postcard please. The first correct ENTRY to be EJECTED (peristaltically) from my ARSE on 14th April 2009 will win the CD. Please act like a boring old GIT and emulate the society you profess to detest when in Her Right Royal Majesty�s a�Rocking and a�Rolling Public House� just in case they might find out you�re, oooohhh, �so� alright. I�LL FUCK THE WOUNDS!!!! �BLOOD FUCKING!!!!� � Whitehouse.
Send to � Gerry �acid sex� Linger, HY! Comp, Gartina, Hermitage Walk, London, E18 2BN.

MUSIC & BLAH
SUPER FURRY ANIMALS � SONGBOOK VOL. 1 (SONY)
CRASH TEST DUMMIES � GIVE YOURSELF A HAND (VIK RECORDINGS)
Had these CDs THRUST upon me during a drunken night out at the Common Rooms in Glasgow by none other than the bar�s part-owner, who INSISTED I take them home to �enjoy�. Well, the Super Furry Animals one is pretty easy to love, it being a compilation of their first 21 singles. With great tracks like �It�s Not the End of the World?�, �Fire in My Heart� and �Hello Sunshine�, it�s a timely reminder that the Furries were like a contemporary version of Pink Floyd fronted by a Welsh Syd Barrett. The Crash Test Dummies disc, despite containing some REALLY stupid song titles (�I Want to Par-tay!�, �I Love Your Goo�, �Aching to Sneeze�) and lyrics, is fair-to-middling late �90s Yank alt-rock that I will probably NEVER listen to again �cos, you know, life�s WAY too short. The final track, �Playing Dead�, is easily the best, but if it�s sombre piano ballads you�re after then read on�

TOM WAITS � ONE FROM THE HEART (COLUMBIA)
There was a �One from the Heart�-sized hole in my Tom Waits collection so, imagine my surprise when I saw this little treasure, alone and unloved with a �2 price sticker on it in my local branch of Fopp. It�s the soundtrack to a 1982 Francis Ford Coppola film filled with lovely songs, many of them duets with Crystal Gayle (!!), and was the final �normal� release of Waits� career, before he went all art-house. So, there are string sections a-plenty and lots of late-night, barroom confessionals like the absolutely gob-smacking bonus track �Once Upon a Town / Empty Pockets�, which is just piano, vocal, bass, tenor sax and a whole lifetime of heartache stretching out towards a blue-black horizon flecked with blinking neon lights.

MORRISSEY � I�M THROWING MY ARMS AROUND PARIS (POLYDOR)
Ah, Morrissey, I�ll never tire of spending my cash on your multi-format singles, with different �B-sides� on every version� but, then, I WAS the boy who bought every Smiths single on 7�, 12� and sometimes even CASSETTE! And these ARE beautifully packaged items with FUNNY pics on the inner sleeves, though I didn�t get the vinyl version (a live rendition of �Death of a Disco Dancer� I can happily live WITHOUT) complete with pic of a naked Moz and band with 7� singles covering their cocks! People who call this man �miserable� are the kind of idiots who sit in baths filled with cold beans for Comic Relief� i.e. CUNTS. At first, I thought it was a little bit MUCH for a 50 year-old millionaire who�s universally adored to be singing about how nobody loves him, as he does on ��Paris� and the Piaf-esque �Because of My Poor Education�, but then I realised THAT�S Morrissey and that fame and wealth don�t necessarily bring ANYONE happiness. The OTHER �B-side� is a thrilling comment on a certain type of youth culture called �Shame is the Name� that also finds time to take a swipe at self-serving politicians before concluding that �shame makes the world go around�. Chrissie Hynde sings backing vocals on it too, but please don�t let THAT put you off.

THE BOY WHO STAYED OVER � BEAUTIFULLY BROKEN / CALL OUT / BRIGHT MOON www.myspace.com/simonalexanderhook
The spirit of Nick Drake is alive and well in the fluid finger-picking and soft, breathy vocals of Simon Alexander Hook, aka the Boy Who Stayed Over (previously fawned over in HY!#35), and the best songs on these DIY releases, such as �Gap in Time�, �Don�t Give Up� and �Now, Now�, are genuinely astonishing. It�s only when Simon drops the Drakey mask and starts singing lines like �wank it all away� that the spell is broken somewhat. But if he were to put all of his best songs on one disc, it would be a must-have for every gentle fool who ever drank themselves to sleep with �Pink Moon� playing on repeat.

MORRISSEY - YEARS OF REFUSAL (POLYDOR)
MORE Moz! Yes, this is his brand new long-player and he doesn�t waste any time with pleasantries before informing us that �I�m doing very well/I can block out the present and the past now/I know by now you think I should have straightened myself out/Thank you, drop dead�. This song is called �Something is Squeezing My Skull� and it�s one of several addictive rockers here that recall the halcyon days of �Your Arsenal� and �Vauxhall and I�. But it�s this collection�s gentler paced songs that REALLY impress; �Mama Lay Softly on the Riverbed� (about suicide) and �When Last I Spoke to Carol�  (possibly ALSO about suicide, or maybe �just� premature death� set to a (Heinz) Spaghetti Western beat!) are both splendid while �It�s Not Your Birthday Anymore� and �You Were Good in Your Time� are quite, quite spine-tinglingly GORGEOUS.

JAMES TAYLOR � COVERS (UNIVERSAL)
Heard this spectacularly pointless album a couple of times during a Saturday drive around Lanarkshire with my cousin. Tasteful but lifeless versions of �Suzanne� and �On Broadway� mingle sluggishly, like pensioners in a doctor�s waiting room, with somnambulant takes on �Hound Dog� and �Summertime Blues� while Mr Taylor shows off his vast collection of hats in the CD booklet snaps. Nobody�s expecting him to write another �Fire and Rain� but REALLY� And the inclusion of �Wichita Lineman� is another head-scratcher. The Glen Campbell version will NEVER be bettered, so why anyone even TRIES is one of life�s completely unfathomable mysteries.

YOU CAN�T EAT THE WORD FOOD � THEORY OF EDIBILITY (HEADHUNTER) www.myspace.com/youcanteatthewordfood
Got up just before 7am. Walked into town despite the fact it was raining a bit. It was Lola�s 26th birthday and Lauren had got her some �Birthday Girl� balloons. A few of us signed a card for her and she seemed to like the stupid shit I wrote (�Oscar Wilde said �Those whom the gods love grow young�, so happy 19th birthday!�) and the �Peg People� I got her from a pound shop at lunchtime (clothes pegs that you decorate with wool and stickers, etc). After work, I had a pint in the Shoe. It was pretty busy with Drunken Eyes and all the GANG. Jamie rang so I WALKED all the way to the West End as I didn�t fancy going on any public transport in rush hour. Got to Jamie�s place and hung out with his mate Bryan for a while, who seemed really cool. He said he�d played piano on Belle and Sebastian�s �Dog on Wheels� and had had �a couple of really serious strokes� and so has big gaps in his memory. We had a few pints then he had to go and meet his dad. He�d left most of his last pint of lager so I finished it off (I was drinking cider myself) and then Jamie brought me another one. He also treated me to a free dinner of macaroni cheese, potato wedges and salad. I felt pretty full-up after that plus all the pints. The place was really quite busy. Some kind soul treated me to some Coke (and I DON�T mean the drink) which perked me up NO end. I was also given this CD by some local band with a TERRIBLE name. It�s okay, I suppose, in a heard-it-all-a-million-times-before �indie� rock kind of way. Well-played like Snow Patrol songs are well-played. Beatles-esque like the Fratellis are Beatles-esque. I THINK you probably get the picture� I�d be more inclined to like this if the vocalist didn�t feel the need to sing in a Scottish accent (what IS it with bands doing that these days? It may be �authentic� but, sadly, it sounds FUCKING SHIT). Then I went to Somerfield, where I bought a big bottle of Lambrini. Was back in the flat at 9.45pm and went to John�s room, where I hung out until 1.50am. We drank, chatted and played songs on his acoustic guitar, including a few by Neil Young. I hugged him goodnight. Went to bed. Woke just before 9am. Watched some �Wright Stuff� and changed my bed sheets. Got a bus into town and looked in some shops. Had a veggie breakfast and big coffee in the Crystal Palace and read the �Metro� then got another bus to Shawlands. Had a shit in Sir John�s then looked in some charity shops before going to meet Joe and Cat in the Bay Horse at about 12.10. We had a couple of pints, I gave Joe a Mark Kozelek/Neko Case tape and the brown cord jacket I was given in 2005, as it never really DID fit me properly. Davey the Cunt was in with Dot. None of us spoke to them. We decided to go to Sir John�s, but Joe went back to the flat to drop off the jacket/tape, so me and Cat walked down together and Joe joined us later. We had many pints and eventually ended up sitting at a table with people I�d not seen in AGES; Ronnie, Arthur, Mary, etc. My mum rang so I went outside to talk to her. Had MORE pints. Didn�t WANT to leave but knew I had to go to work the next day, so I got a couple of buses back. Got chips and a bottle of cider (which I did NOT need) and was back at 9.25pm. Pretty soon, I was asleep.

DVD
CLOVERFIELD
What an enjoyable way to spend an evening: a box of Maltesers, a shit-load of cider and a silly film about big scary beasties laying WASTE to annoying, whiney Yuppie FUCKS in New York City. The faux home-movie camerawork means that you don�t get to see much of the main cause of all the devastation until right at the end, so you�re SUPPOSED to feel the same kind of confusion and fear as the film�s hysterical characters. It�s all good, clean, dumb fun but I took away one very profound truth from this film: that we are all merely ANTS.

BOOK
ED MITCHELL- FROM HEADLINES TO HARD TIMES (JOHN BLAKE PUBLISHING)
This is the autobiography of an ex-TV newsman/journo who, through alcohol addiction, debt and eventual bankruptcy, became a �promenade ghost�, sleeping rough on the Brighton seafront and existing largely on charity hand-outs and cheap �aviation fuel� booze. While the chapters detailing life in hostels and on the streets have echoes of Orwell�s �Down and Out in Paris and London� and the similarly titled, more obscure but no less fascinating �Down and Out� by Tony Wilkinson (Quartet Books, 1981), it�s the gradual arc of Mitchell�s alcoholism that�s really fascinating, from the genial bonhomie of numerous drinking dens to being banged-up for indecent exposure in Hong Kong, near fatal car crashes and several hospitalisations, eventually leading to a stint in rehab and a new-found calm sobriety.   

THE AMAZING CIDER MAN
�Strongbow, Blackthorn, White Lightning, Frosty Jack, I�ve drank them all in my time and a whole lot more. Oceans and oceans of cider. Even after the doctor said that one more drink would kill me, I kept going. I�ve got STAYING POWER, you see. That�s what people lack these days.�
For around an hour, my friend Amber and I had been listening to the old man talk. He had sat down at our table uninvited and began pouring out what seemed like his whole life story. He told us he had been a boxer back in the �50s (that explains the state of his nose, I thought) before becoming the right-hand man to an infamous local crime lord.
�My boss wasn�t a man you�d want to cross but he�d only do you harm if you deserved it,� he told us. �So it was pretty easy for me to stay on the right side of him. All the places he took me, the things he bought me. It was a champagne lifestyle and I got pretty hooked on the stuff but then my boss, well, he got banged-up and I found myself on the dole all of a sudden, for the first time in my life. And you can�t live a champagne lifestyle on the dole, so that�s when I started on the cider. It doesn�t taste all that different when you think about it and people are such SNOBS when it comes to booze, don�t you think?�
�Totally,� I said.
�I see you like a drop of the old amber nectar yourself! Can I buy you and your lady friend another?�
�Er, yeah, I suppose so. How about it, Amber?�
�Sure, okay.�
After we�d told him what we were drinking, he made his way to the bar.
�God, what a character, eh?� I said to my friend.
�Yeah,� she replied. �He�s like some kind of drunk superhero!�
�Cider man!� I laughed. �The Amazing Cider Man!�
�Half man, half cider,� Amber added.
When he sat back down, his mood seemed to have darkened.
�Cheers,� I said.
�Don�t take the piss, son,� he replied.
�Sorry? What do you mean? I was just thanking you for the drink.�
�Don�t think I didn�t hear what you said about me when I was up at the bar. I may be old and pissed but I�m not fucking deaf.�
�God, look,� Amber said. �We were only mucking about. We didn�t mean anything by it, honestly.�
�It�s okay for you,� he told us. �Right now, you�re young and you think you can do whatever you want but, let me tell you, you won�t be young forever. One day you�ll be in my shoes and it won�t seem so funny then. It won�t seem like such a LAUGH then.�
�Well,� I countered. �I don�t see how you can tell us we�re going to end up like you. Surely that depends on the choices we make and the lives we lead. Nothing�s preordained, is it?�
�Listen, son, you can use all the fancy words you like, it doesn�t change a thing. I KNOW what�s going to happen to you� I KNOW it��
His voice trailed off, as if something was distracting him.
�Sorry, but I don�t see how you can possibly KNOW anything ABOUT me. You don�t even KNOW me.�
�I know a lot more than you think, boy. Enjoy your drinks.�
With that, he sank the remainder of his cider, got up and wandered off, out of the pub. Amber and I sat in stunned silence for a while, our own drinks still untouched.
�Well,� she finally announced. �That was a FUN little conversation!�
�God, what if he was RIGHT, though?�
�What do you mean? He was just some lonely, drunk old guy talking shit.�
�No, but I mean, what if he WASN�T? What if he was, you know, from the future or something? Or from a different dimension? What if� what if he was ME, warning myself about what might happen in years to come?�
�Have another drink,� Amber said, smiling. �Let�s talk about something else.�
�What do you mean?�
�I mean, I think you need to stop thinking about that drunk old idiot and just CHILL OUT!�
�Maybe you�re right,� I said, taking a sip of my drink.
Then Amber started laughing.
�What are you laughing at? Amber, you�re kind of freaking me out. Is there something you�re not telling me?�
�Jesus, you were right when you said you couldn�t handle hash cake, weren�t you?�
�Oh fuck, I forgot we even TOOK that.�
Amber laughed again.
�Look,� she said. �Let�s finish these drinks off and go for a walk somewhere, maybe get something to eat.�
�Okay, why not? The night�s young, I suppose.�
�That�s right, it is. And so are we. So are we!�
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