Where's Fuckery Lane, bruv? by Al Calm (an ebook reader .TXT) 📖

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,