|gram of beak|
I picked the old rascal up my along with his mate on a bleak cold December day from a Concrete industrial estate Dachau in Barking , probably late 90’s. As was the spirit of the times in those days i always had a golden ticket on me( gram of beak ) . The old man had already had a few jags in him via some Brewery tied shithouse Bunker on the estate , and was well game by the time i picked him up.
He was going on and on about all that purple heart/black bomber/ Dexy Shit from the 60’s at the whisky a go go , and how shit things are these days with Charlie a “Baroque banquet Bourgeoisie middle class pursuit” as he put it. Bored shitless with his boorish, oafish droning and unappreciative manner for picking him up cause he was fucking legless, i slung him the wrap .
He managed to spill half of it all over the back of the motor the clumsy cunt, but sat some point, did gain purchase and traction on a poodles leg. He declared it benign and that he used to get the” proper stuff off Chris Stamp , stevie marriot , kit lambert and Ronnie Lane in tin pan alley 1970″…… 90 seconds later he was higher than the Cholera infected water tanks on top of the surrounding Council Concentration camp tower blocks on the estate.. describing in great details his sexual exploits with stephine de sykes and threading the stringy bit of lyndsey de pauls cunt through his teeth as well as other sexual acts performed on sundry women, inc mother(My mate was in the car with me). What a cunt. I slung the old git out on the A13 with his oppo.
Realising the error of his ways my Dad faced down his demons and bravely engaged in street by street, hand to hand combat with his brief flirtation with the Kib (Charlie) by continuing his lifelong association with alcohol , procured in every low life, petri dish pisshole east end pub that has yet to flattened and turned into a Mosk , Flats or dixy fried chicken shop .And do you now what ive never been closer to the old cunt.