Pretty Vacant by Tim Wells


Pretty Vacant

Because they hadn’t died before they got old, the Sex Pistols reformed.


My mate and I got free tickets ‘cos his mate worked on the college radio station.


The pub was packed but we held our hour and sank our share. So much so that when the punks left, us drunks stayed.


We planned to get a cab, but ended up getting more beer. There are times when effort can ruin destiny.


In fact, by the time we got there the band were half way through their set. The security decided we were too drunk to go in. Punk fuckin’ rock.


We weren’t too bothered seeing the geezers go through their routine, so we headed back to the Rose and Thorn to get back to ours.


Not long after, the doors burst in and the punks came staggering through. "Where were you?" they slurred through their sneers.


My mate looked at me and I tipped him the wink. "We thought it was more punk not to go."


Oh yeah, we were the coolest fuckers there, and like all true coolness through the fashion parade of time - a fucking lie.


Tim Wells


(Tim Wells is the editor of London's finest poetry zine Rising, a zine that is 'tough on poetry, tough on the causes of poetry' and printed on paper so you can read it on the toilet. The web based Rising poetry gossip site can be found on Yahoo! Groups as boogiechillun)


 
3.9.03 16:33
 


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