I'm in the zone, really going for it, soaked in sweat, dripping off me face. I don't give a fuck how I look or smell. Fuck it, man. Going Old Skool! Nothing quite like seeing beautiful people around you looking proper sweaty and fucked: smell of shitloads of drugs and body funk. I look around, dancing like a motherfucking clumsycock, like I'm proper possessed by the demons of raving, LORD'AVEMERCEEE!
I'm sure Navigator points at me; I smile at him, saluting him for being the don of dons he will always be. Maybe I’m imagining it. Me brain’s seriously fucking around with me at the moment. I got to stop blacking out too, it’s real weird. I got to blame all that dodgy acid I done in the Dam. Fucking wicked time but it did fuck me up!!!!
Probably pointing me out to security about how fucked I am, innit.
I’m bouncing off the sweaty walls, but Navigator's a proper fucking legend, man. I always check out his sets from back in the day and all, I've definitely seen him loads of times though I can’t always remember these days. So many times, a shitload of wicked vibes, I've lost count and they all merge into one. Nothing sweeter than a wicked MC like Navigator seeing a dude like me dancing as if he's about to drop dead. Dancing like it 1991 all over again! Jungle Muffin's still me tune, I love loadsa tunes - CHOONZ!
I'm in me fuckup zone again doing me thing. A girl slinks up to me in a bikini and smells me. She's fucking hot, short brown hair up in pigtails. She still looks like a model. I let some mean egg fart rip, it don't bother her though. She starts to grind with me, pop more pills, gum more powders, need a chuff. She hands me a loose joint, the roach proper sloppy. I chuff tasting fucked ganja smoke taste, me eyes get all blurred then find a bit of focus again.
Fucking pills and snort have fucked me taste buds, need more though - fucking having it right now fuckers! It's all good, I chuff a bit more of the joint, draining it like a fucker and pass it back to her. I turn around and she's gone, vanished into the crowd. Fucking psychedelic smoke bizzle! That’s when that Somebody’s Pulling Me VIP tune drops, I hear it on Origin a fair bit. Fucking banging, it’s making me turn loco I almost forget I need a piss. Had a wicked Friday too, getting wasted to Dugs in the morning, getting blasted to Subslayers in the evening. Fucking perfect. Shit, there's a dribble!!!
Get in the bogs, proper orgasm piss from heaven, another quick toot, then I let off another rancid shit-fart destined to be sniffed up on the smoke-free dancefloor. It’s foul, proper stinks out the bogs, I almost heave too. I'll puke later, I’ve learnt to store it up and hock it out coming back on a Nightbus. I find some more Rizla, all crumpled, a couple are a bit sweaty with the gum all stuck.
I double drop more pills, me last two Skulls. Sure Custard said he was gonna get some Pornhubs and Captain America's later. to be honest, I’ll do anything for some PG Tips now, fucking feeling real desperate I take some knock off ket pills - crown them as they’re all soft and crumbly; got some superstars leftover though I know the superstars aren’t too good these days.
Can tell it going to get smoked up in here, too, like a real hot box club vibe, so stock me some zootage. Usually go from a hot boxed car to a sweet ganja smelling club. I love it, you can tell by the smell it'll be a decent night. It's always fucking banging!
The bog door rams opens, getting me back. Painful as fuck, though luckily me shrunken cock directs more piss on the floor and not down me pants. I turn around slow, feeling fucked, hoping for the foxy bikini bird. It ain't the bird, it's me mate, Goofer. A fucking stone fried retard rat who's a just a master bullshitter. He laughs at me, he's got shrooms, trips and some mental pills. How the fuck he get them? I thought. I might have gave him some shit, but I wouldn’t trust this retard with shrooms. It must be that Crisp posh dude. He’s a wicked bloke, proper connected too. Knows everything and everyone. He don’t really know Goofer, he was probably trying to gte rid of him. Why else give Goofer some shrooms? He normally has fuck all, I don’t think Goofer has ever been into those kinds of drugs.
Goofer thinks he’s fucking John Gotti. It's Rebel Retard playing Tony Montana. He must've done some shit to loop da loop him, I just hope he didn't tick shit. He does that to some fucker, a proper wannabe be bigshot dealer who thinks Goofer’s the perfect mug, but Goofer does a burn with his goods. Not many fuckers tick, not even to family, just might get you killed, some fucker’s got to pay? Fucking way it goes, man. I keep zoning, I hate when time goes all wonky.The night goes into fast forward, we're laughing and puking. And having it right out, that’s when it goes blurry. Fucking remember scanning that Oyster, then look out and see Marble Arch. Fucking night bus man. What a fucker!
Wake up again thinking, Where the fuck am I? Strange bed, strange house.
I look around at everything, not that I can see much, eyes all blurry. Proper covered in sweat and puke, soaked like a stripper. Thought I’d had a wet dream or pissed everywhere again. I think back, maybe I did get a blowjob in the bogs? I get this vague memory of some bird, in a dirty club bog, sucking on me sore pimply prick, it’s taking a while for me to come, feels like ages, but I spray cum over her face, as she sucks on me cock to get the last drops out. I want to kiss her pussy, but she gets all funny, getting all Royal and posh over it, as her snatch does whiff a bit but I totally love fishy fanny.
Shit what a wicked club - yeah, I keep thinking of that tranny! Shit, that dude did look a bit deceptive, it can’t be the same bird, can it? Nah way! Think it just the second time that I've been sucked off by a bloke then. Tranny. Whatever. The other time was Luke, he’s me cousin. Yeah, Luke's proper gay but I was proper out of it. He did say sorry afterwards, taking advantage of me and all. But I have to be honest and say I didn't mind at all. Saying it Jodie comes pretty close in the cocksuck game for a bird. She's the only bird I know who really likes to gobble a cock and can do it like a pro. She ain't a ho yet, but she's damn close. Got some dodgy fellas after her, like some real messy relationships. She got a thing for psychos, though. I got to stay away from her, she's a fucking nutter like that Layla bird.
Groundhog day, fuck it. I been here before, I'm getting fucked, real fucked. I know I'm tripping out, I got no fucking idea of time. Should have been at work time ago. Do I still even work? Fucking pointless zero hours bullshit anyway, proper fucking me mind. Here's how me day usually flows: line, smoke, shot, line, drop pills, line, smoke, tea, shot, line, smoke, coffee, line, smoke, work for like five minutes, offy, beer, line, drop more pills, line, get sent home, another beer on the tube - maybe a bottle of vodka too, line, piss, smoke, it goes on and on! What a fucked ride!
It goes like that most days. Sometimes there will be a huge part where it really goes fuckfuckfuckfuck! That's when I'm on talking terms with the birds. I look around, where the fuck Goofer go? I don't know what that fucker done, I just hope he didn't poison me again!
Shit PC Buzz got to be here! Fuck off! I always see that stoned sniffer dog, fucking trips me right out. Why would you see a freaky stoned sniffer dog? I don't know, it's just stuck with me. I think I'm cursed with all that kind of shit. Me main man, Custard Cream chilling in the corner, as normal. Looking proper shady, looking proper fucked. He's a harmless dude really, giving off some heavy rasta-pagan-hippy-jedi bro vibes. Yeah, he's cool, but you can't chat to the crazy fucker when he's that fucking fucked! Everytime I look around, see Custard Cream looking caned just bopping in the corner, somehow attracting randoms to him. He's a right random too, but he cracks me up. Him and Crisp Roll are all cool. No wonder they have a laugh with DJ Hog and wind up Clive. It don't bother me. The missus don't even know those fuckers exist. You know how it goes. I get back to the gaff and I'll be faced with bills and shit, fuck that! They're better off without me around anyways.
I get that feeling I been tripping out for time. I nod at the bouncers, they smile, they know I'm here and there all the time. I'm like a fucking ghost tripper. A ghost clubber. Embrace the vibe, cook up yer brain with chemicals and lazers! I'm just always up for it. I bop to the bass, then move like in some trippy junglist ballet, it feels like I been skanking with some weird fat bird with short ginger hair and massive jugs for a little too long. She looks in me eyes as if we've known each other forever. Turns out we been going for it for hours. She looks at me as if we're about to get married. I picture her in a wedding dress. I think of Cow out of Cow and Chicken! I almost start corpsing, like a proper giggly spazzout, she thinks I just got a bit of tripped giggles, thank fuck! I didn't say it, she'd probably batter me. I just thought it, I'm sure I did say some shit though. I don't think a lot of the shit I say, it just comes out like mad, then I get a flashback later on that I actually said it for real!
I'm too busy getting horny with this fat bitch to realise I'm not thinking about shit. I got a secret for you, no joke! Here it goes: I don't really trust me eyes. I never have done. Some South American German Tourist dude had some mental acid from France or wherever and I ain't joking it fucked with me! I didn't stop tripping for days after dropping it. So I have lots of gaps in me mind. I probably should slow down chuffing too, but I fucking enjoy it. Fuck it, why not. Just going to die anyway!
I blink and I'm at a house. I look around and everything's silent. I'm in a bed in some quiet part of London. It must be Sunday. Distant cars, me used johnny stuck to me leg and it's been dribbling. I didn't put no johnny on so it must be Ms Healthy Kooch. I don't know, she's demolished a load of ice cream too. I think she's bang on. You don't really eat anything when you're fucked, I just like staring at ice cream. Fucking having it!!! Who says clubbing proper empty?
Fucking banging, I love it. Just looking out for me. I don't mind linking up with some women, whoever as long as they dig a party. Nothing wrong with being on it all the time. And I really like getting shitfaced onb everything. I don't actually drink too much booze now and again. I have done a half bottle of vodka, but that's with a KFC. That's good drinking wtha meal, right? Fuck it anyway. I know I'm fucked, I fucking know it but I don't want no fucking help. I just want to fucking hear the beat and go to me grave. I always debated that with Custard Cream. What would you do if you were losing your mind? Or what would you do if you were real old you couldn't do fuck all? Fuck that's scary.Life's a proper weird one, I can't imagine not getting shitfaced.
Custard said to me he would take loads of shrooms, acid, weed, and take a lot of MDMA or whatever and live somewhere where you didn't have to go far to use the bog. He said he would live somewhere you can bribe the pigs and do what the fuck you want. He would build a massive system there and play rave sets all day and all night and make his own little club. I can see him doing it. None of us can imagine getting old. To think we're only in our twenties now, but soon we'll be fucking old. I can't imagine being close to forty. Fuck, some of the people who run the country are that age and they act like me fucking grandparents, like they're proper out of touch fuckers. I can't dig it. Too much of a mind fuck.
I huddle the duvet around me, kinda toga style. Straight out vibes from the jimmyjam jam!!!
I wonder what punky ginger big tits name might be. She looks like a Cassandra. Or a Weird foreign name like Olga or whatever. I think about snooping. Me mobile goes off. Yeah? I go in the mobile. It's not a phone I recognise, it's a Nokia for one. I ain't had a Nokia since the 3210. Anyway, there's some rustling. Who is it? I moan, feeling feel fucked. Fat Ginger punk bird squirms, yanking more duvet away from me. Fucking great. I get me shit together and hang up. I see the text. It's from Custard Cream. He's so fucked he thinks I'm still at the club. Meet me in the bogs, reads the text. Simples. I blink a bit more, feel real sleepy. Where the fuck am I? I blink and end up staggering around the streets, don't ask for how long.
I'm asleep on a N98, thinking why am I catching flies on a fucking N98? I wake up a bit, do a sneaky line off the back of me hand to perk me up. I clock I need some music. Always feels weird listening to decent tunes on your earphones. Maybe I just got shit ear phones, I don't know. Sometimes it's a bit tinny and feels a bit shit. And when there's a wicked tune on I really want to freak out! But I stick on me tunes, I got a really tight version of Mickey Finn, Ragga Twins and Navigator in Germany in 98. Fucking wicked, I would've been too young to go anyway but we all heard the tapes! Yeah, all those old Shabba D ones and the Stevie Hyper D ones. Yeah, makes me think of Rawhill Cru, all those wicked times, I wouldn't mind hearing Stevie Hyper D's Toronto set in 98 with Kenny Ken. I still can't believe Stevie Hyper D died in 98, would've smashed it up today big time! RIP S.H.D, some wicked remixes out, too. Stevie will always live on!!!
Then I text Custard to stay where he is. I get off, what club we going to? I should've checked it before guessing. Fuck it. I check me phone, some fucker I know, fucking mucho macho proper organised organiser Crisp Roll stuck us all on guestlists for some proper trendy club. Forgot the name of it now. Fucking joker! We ain't going to start there. I text fat punky bird. Come to Cable later, text back babe xx, I text. Cable still open? I think she thinks I'm a being a proper arsehole for fucking her silly then leaving her in bed. But I'm proper buzzing.
I need to keep going, and there's always vibes and afterparties. Oh yeah fuckers, all about the vibe for me. I don't even need to get too close to a bird. I got to be honest, a lot of people when they get all serious they won't go clubbing in case they get fucked and meet some fucking random and fall in love. It's bullshit, it should be all cool and easy but it don't go that way. It never flows like that. I'm pretty open to whatever and iof you love someone enough just let them do what they got to do. They will always suss that you're the real deal and love them no matter what. That's me vibe. shit, I feel like a proper hippy. I been hanging around Custard Cream and those loved up losers way too much.
I even got hippy shit on me player too. Custard told me Doors songs even sampled for D&B. I told him bullshit but he seems to know what he’s on about. I dig all the old rock shit too. I think, just maybe there’s some shit in it that Hog will rip off! Those bands ripped each other off back in the day anyway, so what’s wrong with PJ and Smiley making it all sounding a lot better! It gets me thinking. I'm hoping I don't wig out and get a random's fist in me face. I'm really think tripping. You got to be a stronger person than that denying someone you love to go and express themselves and have a good old skanking. It's cool if another man thinks your woman proper hot and wants to fuck her, or another woman thinks your man a bit of alright and wants to get it on. Or you're all swinging or gay. Some of the best raves I been too have been full of poofs, so I won't hear a bad word about them! I love all these raves, I feel no hate. I just like to get fucked, like really off me face.
Drinking just don't do it. Booze just makes you puke quicker. And that's a right fucker. It can end your night early and you end up blacking out on a fucking night bus when you should be on it. Proper respect for alcohol. I drink everyday but I ain't a bottle of vodka a day merchant like those posh chicks, like Emily and Layla. Wine vodka, they don't give a shit they drink loads of it before they go out, fingering their tight pussies and pissing it up to Britain's Got Talent or some shit. What a way to satrt a night off! But we're all different. I just don't want to conk out all the time.
Speaking of it, I think I did really crash on the night bus. Fuck time people!
I get off bus walk out of Holborn station see Custard Cream and Crisp Roll coming towards me. They laugh at me, shaking heads like all tutt tutt. Have a huge bag of pills, probably smileys, loads of MD, a shitload of SK. What the fuck you doing with all that? I go. They laugh, they're a bit fucked. I blink again and I'm in a club. I think.
Wicked house party innit? says Crisp Roll. He's dressed as a pirate and Custard Cream's next to him wearing the same Adidas get up he always does. Fucking wasters. Where the fuck are we? I go to Custard. They shrug, then I say: I just want to tell me bird where we fucking are!
They just burst out laughing and hand me a wrap of cocaine. I taste a little on the end of me finger, expecting bash. Fuck, I feel it go straight to me cock. Everything goes lightspeed. WHOOOOOOOOAH OH YEEEEEAAAAAAHHHH! Sounded like Morrison, smashed to shit. Fucking tasty cut! It's fucking point point or some wicked cut shit. It's fucking heavy shit and not bashed.
It's decent alright, yeah maybe we shouldn't tell the birds. They'll just ponce it all. I really dig doing all of it. You sure? I say to Custard. They both nod at me, like demon demented twins. Always in the corner, nodding at other dealers, always giving it all chilled out and slick vibes. They don't even bother to pimp roll or gangster slouch. It's a weird one, they don't seem too bothered about not selling but if people want it. It's mental one.
The rave gets going, Erick Morillo in the mix, fucking really having it. Fuck yeah, I dig some of the housey tech funky stuff. That's why Clive ain't here. Too fucking progressive. Fucker don't even like Delta Heavy and Sub Zero. Fucking dickhead. If it ain't real old skool, Clive won't go to it. A few months ago, he wouldn't even go to a old skool rave. Always said he just liked Judge Jules and Pete Tong. Can you believe it? Only would see Judge Jules once a year. What a moody cunt, I get a call. It's from some bird called Mandy: Zippz, where the fuck are you fucking fucked up cunt gimp! She says it to me, like really fucking angry.
Cunt Gimp? That's got to be a new one. I don't mind being called that!
I must have said I would see her sometime, but I forget. I don't do diaries, I end up losing them, so fuck it. I check me mobile, but see no reminder. I can't be fucked to chat, not that I can hear shit anyway. She's going off on one. Morillo's going for it. We're all going for it, fucking banging. Then I do the classic and say the obvious: I can't hear you love I say, can you hear me? I get no answer. It's so loud, but when you shout you can chat, and you edge out and find somewhere a bit quieter, but she knows I'm on it. I just hang up.
Yeah, I should've said I saw Carl Cox some time, the other week I think. I seen me pictures there with Custard Cream and some gothic looking thin bird. Social networking only handy so you can see your picture there, and remember you were definitely there. I think we had a threesome, Custard's got a mental video. The thin gothic girl got double deep penetrated. We called her Goth Thick as she was a bit of plank. We thought we were slow, she was proper slow. or just really cutoff. she knew fuck all about music. GothThick said she didn't even like Cradle of Filth. We were like, no fucking way. Apparently it was a way! Her idea of heavy fucking metal was Bon Jovi. So she's a bit fucking confused to say the least. She didn't know shit about raving, I just think she's a bit fucked in the head. Fuck it, she's sweet as in bed, though.
Me and Custard couldn't stop laughing. She even got us kissing, not that I would tell the others. Ken would kill us both, he gets well freaked by poofs and drag ladyboys. He don't get that's the cool vibe when you're fucked, who gives a fucking fuck, right? Even if it's for jokes. Me and Custard reckon he went to a club and picked up a ladyboy and only found out when it got too late if you get me vibe. He probably enjoyed every minute of it and hates himself for it. Hog wouldn't mind, he's a hippy kind of dude so he's pretty open minded. I bet Hog would do some random things. Anyway, it's been packed for me.
I can't remember going to work. Maybe I'm off? Or did I get fired? Let's be honest, it was bound to happen, but I really dig me doss job. Sometimes shitty doss jobs can be so pissy, they know people don't really want them but they can be easy. I used to sleep so much at work and get away with it. Shame it's on the cards to get cut to shit, as you can hardly call zero hours a real job. Unless they actually give you real work. But fuck it.
I didn't want to rub it in too much. I answer the phone outside the club, smoking terrace vibes. I cup the jay, chuff slow, disperse the funky smoke. Gets me all thinkey, chatting to the missus. She's having issues with childcare. Why don't you come over to me? I miss you Zee, she says. No, you don't you just want to get fucked, I laugh. She sorta laughs. And? She says. I'm human too, she whispers.
I mumble, Are you havin a sneaky poon-fiddle while talking to me? The thought just getting me hard. I'm such a perve sometimes.
She laughs and then I realise she ain't laughing; she's crying her fucking eyes out over the speakerphone. I think she lives in Croydon. Ain't even proper London, just a shit experiment in constant building. Constant building and rebuilding that just fucks up and prices poor fuckers out. Fuck it. I do feel bad. I hear the kids crying in the background, probably tearing the place to shit.
I awkwardly say bye, hang up thinking of her tears. Looks like I'm going to fucking Croydon.
Impressum
Texte: Al Calm
Cover: Al Calm
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 22.11.2012
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