1. |
Kipper
03:16
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dear suzy, here’s a letter you’ll never read, i just wanted you to know i don’t in any way regret my evil deed. when we first met in ’82, aboard the qe2, i somehow divined a desperate neediness in you. in an empty house in shorrolds road i offered you salvation, you laughed in my face, ushered in your damnation. i’m beginning to feel unwell again, a red mist is starting to descend, i’m smashing your beautiful face into a ghost, offloading you in lots across the norfolk coast. you made a right mess of his borrowed bmw, but as your lips no longer move, i guess i can forgive you. it doesn’t stop us talking over shitty meals on wheels or stop me hobbling down my stairs in your low stiletto heels. i know trophies are for bumpkins and brain-dead fools, but i made you my exception, broke my every rule. we could have been the perfect pair astride love’s big dipper, if you hadn’t messed up – your bad! mr kipper. i’m beginning to feel unwell again, a red mist is starting to descend, everyone detests estate agent scum, you jerked me on a deal so i’m jerking you numb. i’m not the suffolk strangler, total fucking amateur, i’d never stoop to whores, mondeo-driving wanker. i’ve no urge to read my ‘story’ in the national press, don’t need to be on tv to feel depressed. it’s time to pull a veil over my face, time to sign off from this sterile waste, time to join you in our rightful place, time to disappear without trace.
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2. |
Budget Bardot
04:03
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she’s got black smoky eyes and sauerkraut hair, an essence of charlie blue hangs in the air, she’s got white jeans tucked into knee high boots, a tousled bedhead mane and a vintage space suit, beneath her plus-size trench coat only mother of pearl, she’s always causing chaos, such a naughty girl, she’s got 14 boyfriends she always rotates, we only catch her fleeting contempt but agree it’s great. my god! budget bardot – she’s so cute. budget bardot – forbidden fruit. budget bardot – poised to blow. budget bardot – from head to toe. she’s got a nautical sweater from salvation army, she’s got a striped breton top from primarni, she’s got a second-hand satin dress and taffeta, when she wears her brief bikini we call her manina, she’s got a lace-trimmed pink gingham shirtwaist dress, an oxfam trouser suit patterned with watercress, she stuck her head in an oven while the flame was on, she trashed my best friend’s harley davidson. good grief! budget bardot – hates balzac. budget bardot – loves 2pac. budget bardot – sex kitten obscene. budget bardot – pure norfolk queen. she’s too beautiful to be a bride, she’s far too beautiful to really be mine… she’s got a leopard print coat from little mistress, she’s got a tight-waisted, bosom-lifting corset, she’s got a striped knit dress with contrast cuffs, a monsoon mini-skirt and new look earmuffs, she’s got a faux leather coat from matalan and pink ballet shoes imported from japan, we indulge all her whims because we know it’s a race, if our passion ever lulls, we’re easily replaced. say what? budget bardot – she’s so punk. budget bardot – only listens to crunk. budget bardot – she’s got contentious views. budget bardot – but no jimmy choos.
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3. |
Unfuckable Lardarse
04:11
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when you left i was in pieces, i ran to the shops. when you left i was delirious, i stuffed my chops. when you left i was demented, i ate to forget. when you left i went bananas, gorged myself on debt. i found solace in wheels of cheese and fast-tracked coronary heart disease. i can’t even find my cock, but i don’t think i can stop. now you’re gone i feel neglected and i can’t connect, all my friends have abandoned me, all my needs are unmet. now you’re gone my walls are up, i’m on self-destruct, can’t face myself in a mirror, i vomit in disgust. so i relapse into scooby snacks, plug wotsits into a pastie’s gaps. if you could see me now! go and take a bow. when you left i weighed 76, now i’m 169, i used to run and attend a gym, now i’m marking time. when you left i was a breezy soul, not doleful or morose, can’t find anything to cheer me up that doesn’t go on toast. i find peace in pools of grease, guess i’m impossible to police. i know i’m gonna die, i just need one more pie.
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4. |
Prostitutes
04:55
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i took your hand and squeezed it – it was the least i could do, i’d taken your trust and abused it, like you taught me to, i’m not some kind of madman, but the worm has finally turned, so, here’s a quick recital of a lesson i have learned: we are all prostitutes, we are all liars, if your price is right, we can be hired. i was untainted when i met you, not a cynical, broken fool, an aspirant alcoholic clad in black like some ghoul, i set my stall out in the rat race, absorbed its stresses and demands, i take the pain but can’t release it, glasses shatter in my hands. we are all prostitutes, we are all liars, scheming, duplicitous, hateful pariahs. but i would come through hurricanes, i would swim stormy seas, i would lop off both my arms if you would get down on your knees and say ‘cheese’. i’m sitting on a wooden bench where we used to take tea, don’t know how long i’ve been here – could be an hour, could be eternity. you’re buffed up to the nines, but i notice every flaw, for me the golden apple always hides a rotten core. we are all prostitutes, we are all liars, we are all hypocrites putting out fires. we are all prostitutes, we are all liars, scheming, duplicitous, hateful pariahs. we are all prostitutes, we are all liars, hooked to the game, it seems, and never retired.
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5. |
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i always punched above my weight, but when i met you i jumped a train, entered an untold domain. how could i not be afraid? when you shine like a quasar, brighter than a trillion stars. to you, it was meant to be – your amazing grace and despicable me. you can smell my fear from a hundred million miles, it’s in my every gesture, every false distended smile. sharks are always circling our choppy sea and when i make my big mistake they’ll spirit you away from me. i still can’t believe my fate, but i’m not used to flying so high, like icarus i’m poised to fry. you say you love me for what i am, but all i can see is very plain – i am stupid, i am vain. to you, it’s daring and unique, as i rub a precious stone across your cheek. poets could make a martyr of your serenity, your sapphire eyes, and smile so wide it shames infinity. sharks are always waiting to drag me down, to mutilate my grotesque face, to disabuse your deluded clown. you know i don’t believe in god, but i am drunk on your wine, dionysus but more divine. words fail me when we speak ¬– i don’t have tools to express the savage pulse inside my breast. to you, my gruffness just seems cute – a witless brow furrowing to compute – but one day you’ll tire of my inarticulacy and cast your gilded net out into a far less captive sea. i can see sharks circling ahead, and every night when i dim the lights, i swear our sheets flash violent red.
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6. |
Shar Pei
02:59
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you blew a kiss, it felt so amiss until you took my hand, put it below your blouse, i was so aroused, as you had planned. you had just turned 17, your skin as silken as ice cream, but i felt so old. i felt so old. i was dumbstruck by my stroke of luck when you asked me to dance, despite my mismatched robes and my big red nose, i fell in a trance. so busy dodging the laser beams, i didn’t register your silent screams, i just felt so old. i felt so old. when we tripped the light, i fluttered with desire, you laughed it away, called me a crisp packet on fire, when it became the talk all over school, i was glad to be your fool. now you’re retired, your youth has expired, we meet online, you’re a swinging grandma in a jet black cupra, i’m a gnarly pine. i never really grew up, i now resemble a shar pei pup, but i feel alright. i feel alright.
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7. |
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you’re in a horseshoe cottage, i’ve 12 monkeys on my back, a white elephant by your door, coyote in my path, you sleep on a bed of acorns, i’m an insomniac, you have a bamboo garden, i’m smothered in lilac. i still owe you 100 days of hopeless servitude. i still owe you a stupid house that left me destitute. how will i pay the debts from our divorce? i can’t survive. you’re in four-leaf clover, i’m treading on pavement cracks, you’re pulling on a wishbone, my mirrors are all smashed, you own a rabbit’s foot pendant, i caught a stickleback, you’ve got a tortoiseshell kitten, i ran over a black cat. i still owe you lawyer fees the size of beirut. i still owe you all the joys of my pending countersuit. how will i pay the debts from our divorce? could you? you’ve had a swastika tattoo, i’ve got a hunchback, you’re micro-dosing on acid, i’m hooked on prozac, you’re dating a chimney sweep, my girl looks like kojack, you sport an evil eye necklace, i’m a skull in a beanie cap. i still owe you 500 nights of total solitude. i still owe you a whole life brought into disrepute. how will i pay the debts from our divorce? it’s impossible.
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8. |
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you have changed but i’ve never felt myself again, you ruined me, poleaxed my purity. shoved me to the floor, i played dead, you ploughed ahead, you left behind a note, it read: love lasts forever. time has changed, and i’ve been shared with much kinder men, with bulging stares, who don’t always take me unaware. yet i still see you, grinning wildly in pursuit, a knife between your teeth, hissing, love lasts forever. i have changed, i can’t be bothered to pretend, i should feel good, but i know i won’t be understood. i’ve shot up half your crew, but i’m saving you for most ridicule, with a round i’ve carefully inscribed, darling, love lasts forever.
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9. |
Code Of Silence
05:19
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you never talk, you never explain, you never express an opinion, never complain. what price is love? what price happiness? in our occluded world it’s hard to assess. you stick to your side, i cleave to mine, a still tongue makes a happy life as loose lips run riot. i cannot lie, i cannot do emotion, i can’t supply reassurance, but i can’t be broken. i’m all locked in, i’ll never be decoded, all words are weapons waiting to be misquoted. you stick to your side, i cleave to mine, a still tongue makes a happy life as loose lips run riot. you still remember when you escaped, still in your teens, you found the one special person who you could spill all your dreams. he wouldn’t judge you, or demean you, or rip you at the seams, but he wasn’t what he said he was behind the scenes. he was plotting your destruction on portable machines, across every platform, across every screen, he shared every stupid prejudice, every dumb scheme, he lambasted your innocence in a sequence of memes. your so-called friends applauded and vented spleens, you became a laughingstock, trolled and pilloried to extremes. and i scooped you from ridicule, supplied a safe regime, but you still seem disappointed, still seem unredeemed. don’t despair, be bold, hold to our code. don’t despair, be bold, hold to our code.
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10. |
Abandoned In Old Age
05:31
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Skill Cambridge, UK
Micro-label founded by Andy Cowan and David Houghton. Discerning multi-genre releases in beautifully rendered limited editions.
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