I miss the ritual of it all

 

It’s the ritual that I miss. So many steps. 

1. Where you live is important because:

• you have to have a local shop that sells iffy under-the-counter imported baccy
• you have to know people that know people that tell you which shop does this
• you have to have friends who know these people or are these people
• often the same friends are the ones who know people that sell strictly under-the-radar weed
• and you’d get an introduction or just give them some cash to sort you out

 

2. Once you’ve got all that sorted then:

• you can go to their house or yours and someone will have rolling papers
• maybe a rolling machine
• you need to know people that know you well enough when you skin up and it’s absolutely rubbish
• like the number one album-producer who kept one of your mouse-sized pieces of rubbish for posterity
• someone always will and then it all gets passed around
• and that is the ritual I miss the most
• all the adventure to get to this point where friends are messing about
• the joint of togetherness

 

3. I never really liked the new mega-strong skunk because:

• in the old days, I mean the ancient days, homegrown grass was a joke
• you’d be gutted if that was all anyone had when you wanted some diesel hash
• or rocky, or slate, or something mellow and light
• but the skunk. Woof.
• it stinks and it stinks
• it smells, but it stinks
• because skunk knocks you out
• trippy and glued to the chair
• entirely unaware of anything else really
• staring at each other glassy-eyed and reddened and completely devoid of thought

 

4. I hate that feeling. It has broken the idea:

• Skunk so potent and powerful that it is easier to skin up one for each person.
• There is no passing around, just passing out.
• Ah, but it’s a long time ago now.
• There’s a full stop and punctuation about me now.
• And I don’t care to deliberately lose it.
• But I miss the ritual. 
• And I miss my friends. 
• I miss those that are still around. 
• And.
• I miss those that are never coming back.

 

 

One Forgotten Midnight

I miss you.

I think you probably haven’t thought.

Of me.

For a long time.

But when I saw you in my dream.

It was lovely.

You always were.

And we laughed.

We were together on holiday.

With families.

Parents.

Our parents.

And over a meal we talked about.

S - E - X.

And we laughed.

Me and you.

 

Once upon a multiverse.

Maybe.

Maybe this happened.

Is happening.

 

And for all the clichés that arise.

My heart is heavy this morning.

I doubt I’ll hold you again.

Or you me.

And that’s life and that’s how it always must be.

 

Decades pass but one dream can bring it all back.

Imagine that.

I hope one time you imagined that.

But it’s not for me to ask.

 

And - maybe.

You know.

You know that I miss you.

And even if you missed me back.

Just for one moment of one dream one forgotten midnight.

Our Universe would right itself again.

 

The love that comes from us finds its place.

And when it leaves it grows again.

I hope it lands where it is most needed.

I set it free. But it is not finished with me.

And that.

Is a burden and a gift and a joy and a poison.

All those clichés too.

Because.

All the spins of the earth don’t matter.

It turns anyway.

And somewhere.

Somewhen.

A boy and a girl.

Just like me.

And you.

Kiss for the first and forever time.

 

 

Praise Lord Dave

Today, the ace Mark Steel, whose work I bloody love loads, did a column in the Sunday Mirror: 

Then Songs of Praise tweeted that his idea for a new hymn sounded like a good plan.

I agreed and knocked this up with some lyrics taken from said column, and it looks and sounds like this.

With all due credit to Mark Steel for the inspiration and nihilism.

I gave the copyright in this to God to avoid smiting.

Bringing Parcels Forth to Man, 

Praise Lord Dave Who Drives the Van

Grandma tell us how you went

All the way to Stockport? When

Granddad sent you an emoji

Every Christmas time?

Nasa save us one and all

Astronauts land in Cornwall.

Bringing Parcels Forth to Man, 

Praise Lord Dave Who Drives the Van

Trees with voices sing with joy.

Parties with one girl, one boy.

Watch out for the edge of Swindon

No-one makes it back.

Finnish question-masters reigned

Til the kitten masters came.

The Header Forecast

The Header Forecast

With Anthony Stewart Head from Buffy

 

Scotland: Early outbreaks of solid defensive clearances by grizzled centre-halves, with a chance of 50-50 battles later. Supplies of white bandages have been distributed to mop up forehead blood from split stitches. Concussion is possible in the Shetland Islands.

Northern Ireland: High pressure in the home box will lead to inadvertent glancing headers to divert a miscued wide shot into an own goal. Expect ill-informed shouts of ‘second ball’ from purple-faced, pie-eating supporters.

North East: A quiet afternoon in general, but do expect a squall of high-altitude Andy Carrolls on for the last ten minutes to give a different option up front. He is not expected to last long before going off injured again, and the goal drought will continue.

North West: Strong Guardiola and Klopp currents will generally keep the ball on the floor today, but there is always a chance of an expensive fancy-dan midfielder with red boots making an arse of a simple cushioned header to his keeper.

Midlands: The recent Allardyce outbreak in the West Bromwich region means vastly increased lumping of the ball up to the big man in the danger areas. A yellow set-pieces warning is in place and bruising aerial duels are expected as players give 110 per cent for the full 90 minutes or more.

Wales: Ignominious attempted diving headers will fail to make contact at the far post, and the forecast indicates ugly scuffles in the six-yard box at corners. Expect keepers making a nuisance of themselves in the opposition box in the last minute, leaving their goal gaping.

South East: There is a high chance of thunderous headers from late runs into the box today, exacerbated by poor zonal marking. Defenders are expected to berate midfielders for failing to track back properly, as irate goalkeepers hoof the ball out of the back of the net in frustration.

London: Generally fine, with some looping headers drifting harmlessly over the crossbar during the lunchtime kickoff. There is a high chance of Harry Kanes in the Tottenham region. Despite some clever flick-ons bisecting defenders, VAR will pull the play back and rule someone’s nose hair offside.

South West: Keeping focussed on the ball and being sure to keep your eyes open should avoid the worst of the 50p-heads we have been seeing over the last day or two. Nonetheless, there will be periods of not getting off the ground effectively, and being comprehensively outjumped by the smallest player on the pitch.

Europe: Stunningly improbable leaps by Cristiano Ronaldos, ruined somewhat by referees over-enthusiastically whistling for non-existent fouls. Chances will be missed for simple nut-ins at the far post by Brazilians trying spectacular overhead kicks instead.