What makes you you? Is it your homeland, the place you were born? The red brick? The shitty weather (that builds character)? The cars, the graffiti, the mills (Rose!), the air, the food, the family, the long/lat?
Or (D) - all of the above?
Don’t rightly know. But I do know, it ent where I am now. But that’s just transient, as with every other aspect of me life. After all, just cos I take home a bloke fert one-night-stand (hey, now, it were fert third time in history, so fuck off, in a I-just-want-to-do-what-everyone-else-does kinda way) dunt mean I’m any less made o’ moral fibre than your cunts. Right? Yer just jealous you don’t do it too.
Anyway, it’s been a busy week. Granny W gets in, just 36 hours from now, and I ent got requisite vodka in yet, so unless I do ont way home tomorrow night, I’m lookin’ at a ruddy good kickin’ (no, not a ‘rudy big pig walked down my street’ in a Smash Hits! Rick Astley kinda way - yeah, cos I’m old enough to remember Reg ‘Reg’ Snipton etc.).
What was I saying? Oh yeah, apart from having to go see to my mate as knows what’s fuckin’ what, that shallot. Onion. Thing. Whatever.
Do you every worry that yer dad ent proud of you? That you still have stuff to accomplish as an adult? I do have a weeny-assed, really tiny like Chinese New Year's competition: me and Writer Mate have to try and get a fiction story book type thing published before (or at least in negotiation) before Chinese New Year 2010. Yeah? Well pucker up, buttercup, cos I got me a doozy of an original story half-finished. All I have to do now is finish it and pitch it to some big-ass publisher like Titan. Easy.
Caffeine Vodka helps me program!"
~ Manchester ~ Oldham ~ Smash Hits ~ publish a novel