Saturday, September 17, 2011

Skins - Rob Jackaman

Skins - Rob Jackaman
(part 7 of the sequence ‘Rockyhorrorton’)

It was the weekend Elton John was in town,
and we went (for old times’ sake) down to the
Wallies a GoGo where they were re-doing
the sixties (yet again). Afterwards you said
you had a headache (didn’t we all, darling)
and were going home. So I sat on my step
and watched the bonfire next door: it was only
some time later I wondered why there was
a bonfire next door, and how come it seemed
so close. But of course, as Robert Frost nearly
said, "Something there is that doesn’t love a
fence" ¾ and the local lads (clearly aesthetes
in spite of a lack of hair) had taken him
at his word and done their bit to break down
the barriers between neighbours. Certainly
that old creosoted wood made a fair
blaze ¾ too much for some, who dialled 1-1-1.
Now the Fire Brigade I could cope with, but when
the Riot Squad arrived I began to fear
for my petunias. The suburb was ringing
to the music of broken bottles on plexiglass
shields: this is unusual, I thought, as I settled
down behind a protective coating of sherry.
I guessed the next day would be messy, but hell
next day was still more than a bottle

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