SW3

SW3

The Obscenity of the King’s Road.

Pinched skin and dead eyes.

Home from home,

Perhaps.

What’s going on here?

Move your feet you.

Can’t you see that the Posh Lady wants a seat.

Happy new year, belated as it is.

Thank you, smile drops.

Thank God they’ve gone.

No room at the Inn

No room on the bus.

A lime green duffle coat

Whatever next!

Nana Mouskouri dressed as Kermit the frog

The white thorn of Athens.

"Put your teeth in dear" says Chelsea hard man

"Or I’ll put them in for you, hehaw, hehaw."

"You’re not from up there are you?"

Says Tony the Barber in broad sparrow

"Tw reight" says I

This was a gentleman barber from Mayfair who trotted out the old chestnut

"You walk into a shop and they start talking their bleeding language it’s rude.

I says to them, if they don’t want me business, fine."

I didn’t take offence as I’d heard it all before and after all

Tony had had a nervous breakdown

Four years ago.

‘Me wife found me on Catford Bridge, sobbing me heart out’

"Call it a Breakthrough", Tony says I

As Lady Muck throws a wine box in the bin outside the Kensington and Chelsea College where you can go on an Improvers Course.

Improvers in life.

Will do.

Will have to do.

Just passed Bootsy Brogans in Fulham Broadway

 where we had the craic all those years ago.

Did we?

Suppose so.

Old rubber neck again there checking the dead

PC611

Stands over a man whose had a stroke or epileptic fit.

I look on impassively from the back of the bus as the staring eyes pierce my very dark glasses.

No fun here.

Talk somebody, so I can mark you down

With a cross.