Jesus what was in that ice cream from Brighton Pier today? (22 June 2011) Probably 20% seagull shit, I feel quite disorientated, and maybe 9am is too early for such a treat. I find the nearest bench on the Pier facing the beach and instantly squirm as cracked wooden bench slats pinch my buttock flesh, I feel its not going to be my day. I’m soon treated to the sight of Metal Detector Man being half chased, half mauled by a rabid dog, what the fuck are they expected to find anyway?
But I’m soon distracted by the shock sighting of Edward G Robinson – 1920s, 1930s Hollywood actor (smoked a lot of cigars and played lots of gangster-type roles), but surely he should be quite dead otherwise he would be on the wrong side of 122? Or perhaps he’s just the local retired gangster-type person wearing a fedora and a double-breasted jacket (pin-striped) and black & white spats. Then, as he closes in on me, Edward G jumps forward, spreads out his arms, drops his saggy jaw and blurts out: “tahwahoo!” to an extremely startled seagull (if it was wearing pants then the seagull would certainly have shit them). The site of Edward G having a freak out settled my stomach as I contemplated a march to the train station and a return to London Victoria.
No comments:
Post a Comment