what a ****** nightclub -
   in some dingy part of Romford -
now?
   gone gone gone...
but at the time -
   when tool's stinkfist came on
i lost it...
    started to trance within
the confines of a dance -
   like a berserker on psilocybin...
me and Samuel -
    with our hair waxed into
spikes - he a mohicnan -
   i a:  greg tribbett -
   dingy - murk - alcohol stinking
rat hole -
              clammy walls -
sticky floors -
            a nightclub -
also a sinking ship -
             yummy -
                    underage drinking -
started at 14 with white lightning:
haven't stopped -
               just dosed up -
and? all the merrier -
     but cooking and regular showering
saved me -
   hygiene and your atypical
dietary requirements from
the Raj -
                  that's when i lived
in Ilford -well, Gants Hill -
just across the synagogue -
   on Beehive Lane -
    above the estate agent -
    ha ha!
   those orthodox jews on yom kippur:
scuttling into the synagogue -
ninja stealth mode -
         ratty -
      wearing Nìké trainers -
because, you know? right?
   the hebrews are not allowed to wear
anything worth a leather's inch on
their body...
             ergo? no belts, no leather shoes...
**** me...
   HELLO ISHLAM!
so you can't eat pork...
   but you wear shoes...
  made from pork?
                    well done!
and that belt?
    it's not crocodile leather...
  look...
   if you think that's a god not teasing
******* his pants from laughter?
ha ha... i will...
              the pristine beast -
homage to the boar - that wild pig
ancestor...
    ah... zee fwench -
     alizee - moi ****** -
      hell... if you started jerking off
aged 8...
             and was first kissed
around the same time -
    puritanical Dutch protestant ******* -
lying was never **** -
   *** - only the catholic way -
point being: i never understood
the concept of a strip-club...
     huh?
    eh?
    the **** are these people talking
about?
  look, but don't touch?
what's the point of a *******
saddle... if you don't have a horse?!
- ah... RM1...
        long gone, gone gone gone...
me and Samuel...
  walking back from Romford
to Ilford...
   singing Backstreet Boys songs
and talking about the girls we liked
back at school...
  the eternity mile(s) -
                 trying to baptize ourselves
free from the heavy metal drone
sound of the excess volume in
the rat hole of a nightclub
where underage drinking was and always
would have remained: the norm.