The Last Drunk Bus

(Dictated to me on the C26 bus by the ghost of Jim Morrisson and a sober french drunk)

Static scratched music coming from a small hand-held transistor radio...

♫♪ Show me zee way to ze necks Whizkay Bar... Show me ze way to zee necks Whizkay Bar… ♫♪

"Bonne année! ‘appy New Year! 2012!  Je suis triste. Please..."

♫♪ Show me ze way to ze necks Whizkay Bar... Show me ze way to ze necks Whizkay Bar… ♫♪

"Whizkay, wine, beer. J’aime tous! J’aime bien picoler! Whizkay on ze Rocks, mon fav'rite!

Mais, je peut plus. My liver. Pwffff. I’m DYING!!!"

♫♪ Show me ze way to ze necks Whizkay Bar... Show me ze way to ze necks Whizkay Bar… ♫♪

"'Appy New Year! 2012! Fuck Jim Morrisson! Fuck ze Doors! My liver 'urts, putain. Je meurs!"

♫♪ Show me ze way to ze necks Whizkay Bar... Show me ze way to ze necks Whizkay Bar… ♫♪

(And it was right there that I slipped into a complete fantasy world.)

(The sober drunk was now off-the-wagon, swaying and waving a large bottle of whisky around in the air. The jaundice in his eyes had cleared. Drunkenness was as pure as the first time. All sadness and regret was gone.)

(Behind me, and all around, the others were merry with it too. Ecstatic. Now either standing, or gripping tightly onto the seat in front; all together rocking the bus. Even the driver had lost it, swinging the wheel around like a crazy, the bus swerving jubilantly across all lanes.)

And then I was heavy drunk myself. Orchestrating the chorus on this drunken bus:



The bus shuddered to a halt
The Doors opened
And the cold came in.

I stepped off at Ambroise Paré. The scratched static of a hand-held transistor radio followed me out, and then faded as The Doors closed.

Across the road a flickering pharmacy sign
After that home
A dark place in the distance.

The light was gone
Summer was done
The best years of our lives were over

♫♪ Oh don't ask me why
Oh don't ask me why
Just show me the way to the next whiskey bar
Show me the way to the next whisky bar...♫♪


  1. France sounds remarkably like Glasgow...

    This is probably why the French and Scots got on so much better than the French and English.

  2. Joe!!! I must get your link up over here... i'll do it over the weekend.

    Do you read much poetry? I used to, but find it bores me now - even modern stuff. I also don't like how exclusive most of it is. Why I'm bloody writing it I just don't know!


  3. ...because you are the poet for the crack generation and the world needs to read your words.

  4. That reminds me I have to start collecting these compliments and insults again. I may have a self-indulgent weekend: wanking and collecting compliments.

  5. Is it wrong that I feel kind of warm knowing you might crack one out to that ^ ?

  6. it's probably no wronga than me wanking to compiments.. it may even make you the more normal of the two of us. X

  7. I don't read much poetry, don't seek it out anyway. But I like lots that I get exposed to.

    Last lines of Shakespeare's Sonnet 94:

    For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds.

    Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds

    Like the colour scheme/overall look of this.

    Though that picture of the crying boy with the furry animal is so sad.

  8. Hi Joe,

    Well, for once the Bard says something I can actually understand!

    I used to work in a restaurant, and once a week we'd have to bag the rubbish in the bins and then hose the bins out. Of all the rotten food and rubbish, the most hideous vile smell came from the dead and decomposing flowers off the tables. We had to wear masks and we'd still gag. Roses were the worst.

    All the artwork I did myself. I didn't take the pics, but transformed them all, took them to B&W or sepia, coloured certain sections and stained them. My favourite is the irl with the bright pink staining up her arm. That's my colour. You'll see it in all my artwork, from real poaintings ro what I did on WFJ. But the picture here, I'm gonna self-print these poems as a booklet, and she'll be the cover. Books not or sale, just to give away to friends like you. I will even print up a few copies of WFJ.

    Excuse any and all typo's.. am really pressed and don't have time to reread or rectify errors. X

    ps: wanated to say more about poetry. Will give you my thoughts next time.

  9. That Sonnet 94 is one of the few I feel I fully understand. It was quoted in a Christopher Isherwood book, then the Pet Shop Boys had Liza Minnelli recite it with a little back beat on her great album Results. So it seems to stand out for some reason. I'm embarrassed to remember that I quoted the last lines in a letter to an ex. I used to be so romantic! Now I'm with Andy Warhol: once you see emotions from a certain angle you can never think of them as real again.

    It would be great to see a physical book of the blog stuff. Though you should be careful with John that you don't affect any future publishing venture.

    I love that colour too – it may not be, but I think of it as Shocking Pink.

  10. Hey Joe,

    I used to be so romantic! Now I'm with Andy Warhol: once you see emotions from a certain angle you can never think of them as real again.

    I know what you mean, but I try never to give up on romance. Ok, I could never any more be turned suicidal by a broken heart but that's just a hardening of the soul which comes from life. I was never suicidal broken hearted, but I used to sometimes pretend I was... you know, anything to get back what you lost. When my marriage broke up after all those three days I had my sister phone my wife and tell her a body had been found in the Thames and it was probably me. My wife replied: "if it turns out to be the case make sure you phone back and confirm it!"

    It's funny. But at the time I was willing to try anything to jog back a memory... to try and make her remember what we had and the things we'd said. Oh, hang on, maybe you don't relate to any of that at all... maybe I'm actually much more like one of the pathetic emotional softies who turned you and Andy into hardened love sceptics. I hope I'm not. I hate those kind of people too!

    The books I'll print up will not be e-published, or affiliated to any company, or even have an ISBN. It will literaly be paying a printer to kock of the pages and bind them in a cover of my own design. I've found a printers here, not too expensive, and mostly they do students end of year dissertations. So I think the rights should be fine like that. If you think otherwise do tell, as I don't know so much about these things.X

  11. I don't think just putting something on paper would affect copyright - I mean in that case so would typing it up and stapling it together. I don't even think self-publishing prohibits you from doing another deal with a publisher. I suppose it all depends on any contract with whoever.

    Oh I've done many weird and wonderful (and demeaning) things in the name of Romance. But like you I've never given up on it. These days I can see what would have become an obsession from a distance. It's still hurtful if someone you like doesn't feel the same, but not the end of the world.

    And I'll always believe The One is just around the corner...