'MAKE SURE THERE'S SOMETHING IN THE FREEZER'
by Alan Ram

I thought she�s get easier to live with as time went on but she didn�t.

I thought, when the kids are gone that�s it I�m off as well.

But then I thought just a minute Mick, what are you going to do exactly, you�re going to pack your bags and fuck off into the night are you, and you�ll end up who the fuck knows where living in some shitty little flat if you�re lucky, and Kar�ll be comfortable with squatters rights on the marital home. Is that what you want at your age. I don�t think so.

You can go if you want to, Kar, I�m staying put.

I thought, I�ll go on nights, we won�t see a lot of each other.

Put me on permanent nights, I told them. You heard me, if I can�t do nights I�m leaving, you can please yourself.

I could get a job driving a truck again tomorrow, I could go back to my old place.

I thought, nights are better anyway. On days there�s always someone in your way. You�re mending their fucking shaker motor or their tempering machine or whatever it is that�s fucked, and you�re thinking are you going to stand there talking shit to me all day or what, in case you hadn�t noticed this is a fucking chocolate factory and it�s not making any chocolate because your machine�s fucked, so can I just get on, why don�t you shut the fuck up.

I thought, I can do six nights on and three off and I can get two good days fishing in the middle of the week. It�ll be a lot better all round, I don�t need weekends off, weekends are bollocks unless you�ve got a young family.

I was on nights. I�d worked Sunday and Monday and it was Tuesday evening.

I got up and went in the bathroom and I was having a shower and there was this smell. I thought, she�s poisoning us. I know what�s going on. There�s a bit of fucking mould growing on the tiles a bit of a black sort of mould growing in one corner on the tiles and a bit under the sealant, a bit of mould won�t kill you, Kar, and she�s been squirting it with fucking chemicals to get rid of it. And it gets in your fucking throat so you can hardly breath. You�re fucking crazy, Kar, it�s fucking poison you�re using, are you trying to kill me, you might as well spray the place with arsenic. I thought no wonder every cunt�s got asthma and thyroids, why can�t you leave well alone.

And a bit later I was sitting in the kitchen eating what ever I was eating and there was this racket from the sitting room, there was this fucking video blasting out with people talking French. And I thought you cunt, Kar, I know what you�re doing, you�re trying to wind me up, ignore it, Mick, don�t take any notice.

She was learning French.

I went on nights and then within a month she was going out to an evening class twice a week. I couldn�t believe it, I thought it had to be the milkman, fuck it, I hope he gets more than me, that�s all, I wish the cunt luck.

But it wasn�t

I said what the fuck�s going on, Kar, you�re forty eight years old, woman, you�ve never learned a fucking thing in your life, what are you starting now for, stick to stacking fucking shelves. I thought if you want to learn something why don�t you at least learn something useful, learn computers, you can get a grant, you can do it for nothing.

I said why don�t you do something sensible for once, Kar, French is no fucking use to anyone.

�I�m going to France for a week in the summer.�

�Are you,� I said. �Well count me out, I�ve driven trucks all over France, you can keep it.�

�I�m not asking you.�

�Right, well it�s good to know where you stand.�

�I�m going with Meryl.�

�Who the fuck�s Meryl.�

She was a woman in her class.

I thought fine, go if you want, it�ll be a relief. Just make sure there�s something in the freezer that�s all.

I was sitting in the kitchen eating whatever I was eating and there was this fucking video from the next room with people talking French. And I thought fuck this, I�ve had enough of this, it�s getting on my nerves. I went next door and I said for fuck�s sake, Kar, are you sure you can hear it. Can�t you wait five minutes till I�m out of the house and you can play it how you like, you can play it all night if you want. And I turned it down. And as soon as I was out of the room she turned it right back up again. I thought, this is doing my head in, there�s fucking French everywhere. And I went back in the sitting room, and she was on the floor surrounded by all this French shit, half a dozen fucking cassettes and a fucking dictionary and fucking books and this fucking video she was watching, and I got hold of the lot and I said is it alright if move these while I finish my dinner, and I threw them out of the window onto the path.

�There, you cow, do your fucking French outside if you want to.�

I was in the kitchen reading the paper and Kar kept coming in and out. She�d come in and do something and I was supposed to look up and say God you�re working hard Kar, a woman�s work is never done. But I thought fuck that, I�m not playing that game. I just kept on reading the paper, turning the pages over, laughing and making a performance of it as though I was reading something hysterically fucking funny.

Fuck you Kar, if you�re not speaking I�m not speaking.

Another half hour and I can give this fucking game up and get off to work.

I was in the kitchen with the paper and Kar kept coming in and out. She has a load in the washing machine and it was spinning away and making a racket and shaking, and then it stopped. And I was thinking hallelujah a bit of piece and quiet, and then there she was again, emptying the machine and folding the washing, chuck it in the basket Kar, chuck it in, there�s no need to fold it.

I was watching her. She thought I was reading the paper, but I�d read it, there was nothing in it. All that was in the paper was a man comes home from work and finds his house is gone, the gas has blown his house up, so he had no house left, he was walking up the road and he suddenly spotted his house wasn�t there. And the other thing was about a boy who has his bike stolen, he was a paper boy and he was delivering papers and he put his bike down on the pavement and his back was turned for a few seconds and these two lads were off down the hill on his bike.

I�m wasn�t reading the paper, I had it held in front of me but I�d finished with it. I had my feet stretched out across a chair in my socks and I was thinking why can�t you wait till I�m out of the house Kar, then you can do what you like. She unloaded the washing machine then she started vacuuming downstairs. For fucks sake. She�s forty eight years old, you�re forty eight years old, Kar, give yourself a break woman, give me a break.

She was vacuuming the kitchen carpet. There�s carpet in the kitchen, why is there carpet in the kitchen. She wanted carpet. It makes no sense. Kar, I said, you want a surface you can wipe up. Carpet looks cleaner, she said. It�s not fucking hygienic, it makes no sense. Every fucking thing goes on the carpet, look at it, there�s bread, there�s potato, there�s marmalade, there�s jam, what else, there�s butter, what else, there�s gravy, what else, there�s custard, you can�t vacuum custard, Kar, what else, there�s meat.

�Mind your chair a minute, Mick, I�ll just do under here.�

Jesus fuck.

I picked the ashtray up off the table and turned it upside down and I tipped it on the floor. �Here, clean that fucking lot up if you want something to do.� And then �Here,� I said and I threw my cigarette on the floor, I took a drag and chucked it on the carpet. �Here, fucking clean that up, Kar, if you want something to do.�

�You�ll start a fire!� And she was running around like a chicken. She didn�t know what to do. And I said turn the fucking vacuum off, a minute, Kar, and I stood up and I trod the cigarette out. There you are, Kar, it�s out, you can clean it up now.

She fetched the dustpan and she got on her knees and she started to sweep it up. I thought, you can vacuum a cigarette end, Kar, you don�t need the dustpan it won�t break it.

She was sweeping about with the dustpan and I thought what�s she doing, she�s making a meal of it. Then she stood up.

She stood up with the brush dangling in one hand and the dustpan dangling in the other hand and all the rubbish had fallen on the floor again, that�s good Kar. She was there sort of swaying about gently like a tree and she dropped the dustpan on the floor, she dropped it and she was sort of looking down at it, and then she dropped the brush, and she was staring down at them.

And I was wondering what�s she up to now.

And then she started opening and closing her mouth like a fish and making a noise, she was talking, it was like talking but it wasn�t talking, it was sounds, it was bollocks noise coming out of her mouth.

What are you doing now, Kar, what are you up to now, what�s this performance, I can do without this, you can save it.

And then her arms started going nineteen to the dozen, she started whirling her fucking arms around like a windmill in gale, she looked like a windmill. I thought, this is a good one Kar, I haven�t see this one before.

And then she started staggering towards me with her arms whirling about and talking gibberish, and I�m thinking what the fuck�s going on. And then before you know it she collapses completely, she falls over backwards like potatoes and she hits her head and she�s lying on her back on the floor and she�s looking up and her eyes are open but she�s out. I didn�t know what to do, I�m thinking what shall I do, and then she throws up, her head jerks up and she throws up and there�s vomit everywhere, and then there�s this smell, I can smell this smell of shit, and I�m thinking it�s shit, she�s shit herself.

I�m waiting for the ambulance and I�m thinking I have to phone work, I�m supposed to be at work, so I phone them and I tell them there�s no way I can make it tonight you�ll have to arrange cover.

When I get back from the hospital I call Gavin in Toronto and I tell him, and I call Mary in Newcastle and she says she�ll come tonight. Don�t bother it�s a six hour drive, there�s no point, drive down tomorrow if you want.

�How are you, Dad?�

�I�m alright.�

And I call Scott, he�s on a rig near Norway. I don�t care if he is asleep, you�ll have to wake him, it�s his father I have to speak to him now. When they finally get him on I tell him Scott, your mother�s died, she�s had a brain hemorrhage in the kitchen, I�m just back from the hospital.

Then I think, better let Kar�s brother know. But we don�t have an address. We have an old address from a few years ago but we don�t have a new address. If he keeps moving about, he never stays in one place, if he doesn�t stay in touch what are you supposed to do. It�s Liverpool or Manchester, he�s working round Manchester, in that area, in the North West, I can find out.

I check the time and it�s twenty to twelve. I�m making a cup of tea I�m thinking I�ll take this to bed with me and have a sleep or I can sit and watch television for an hour, I might nod off in front of the television. And I switch it on and I�m drinking my tea it wants more sugar it needs another half spoon, and I�m thinking this is no good, I can�t stay here in the house.

I put the kettle on again and I make flask of coffee, I�m stirring it up in the measuring jug and I�m thinking where are you going. And I go out to the car, it�s in the drive, and I�m thinking what are you doing it�s only April you need a coat, it�s freezing, and a sweater, and I fetch them and I put the sweater on.

The next thing I�m standing at the ASDA with the nozzle of the pump in my hand looking at the sign on the pump, it�s asking me CARD OR PAY AT KIOSK, and I�m thinking I don�t know, I�m staring at the sign like a prick I can�t decide, and I think you need some smokes Mick, pay the girl at the kiosk.

And when I get to Salisbury I take the A30 A343 Andover I go in a big circle round Andover I go into the town centre and out again, and A303 towards Basingstoke. But I don�t go to Basingstoke. I take the M3 junction eight South to Winchester, and towards Southampton, junction fourteen M27 East.

I said go see the doctor, Kar, do something if you�re getting headaches. You�re so fucking dim, no wonder you�re getting headaches with all that French. I�d have headaches if I was doing that all the time. She stopped the French but she was still having the headaches. Do something about it, what are you trying to prove, it�s getting on my nerves. Have your eyes tested. I said, it�s that till you work on, it�s fucking your eyes. Tell them you don�t want the checkout, tell them you�ll do stacking. Get a note from the doctor to say you�ve got to do stacking, it�s all you�re allowed because the till fucks your eyes. Get a pair of glasses, do some fucking thing.�

I go A28 A262 A274 M25 junction seven

M25 anticlockwise, M11 south.

When I get to the end of the M11 I don�t recognize it. I go round and round this roundabout and I don�t know where I am.

I�m on the North Circular, then I come off by mistake.

And there�s waste ground and a reservoir and a car park, and it�s getting light. And I think I�ll have a little sleep, and I let the seat down, but I can�t sleep, then I do, and when I wake up it�s five to eight.

And I�m driving along thinking I need to get back, I want the M25. I�m driving along and there�s children either side, there�s a school, there�s a settee in the back of a van in front of me hanging off the end covered in plastic, there�s plastic flapping in my face. And there�s a walkway over the road and I�m thinking that�s good idea, with all these children and this traffic you need a walkway.

I turn right. I think, I want to get this traffic off my arse so I turn right and I keep going.

I�m thinking, I can stop, I can stop and ask someone, but it�s easier said than done. There�s people but you can�t stop when you want to, there�s always some cunt behind you, or they�re on the wrong fucking side of the road and they�re walking the wrong way.

I�m thinking, just pull up Mick and go into a shop and ask. And I�m looking for somewhere open but there�s fuck all suddenly when you want one.

I�m looking round and I�m thinking, it�s a tip, it�s a fucking tip round here, you wouldn�t want to live round here.

There�s a few shops but they�re boarded up.

There�s a block of old shit sixties flats half demolished, they�re all concrete, they�re like a fucking prison, they�re better off down.

It�s a fucking building site the whole place. There�s a fucking great metal fence about ten feet tall running along and behind it�s all flattened, it�s like a field, there�s nothing there except for a JCB standing in the middle of it and a couple of blokes together standing I don�t know what they�re doing.

There�s a wooden fence covered in fucking posters on the other side of the road, you can see over it, there�s a building of some kind going up, offices, I don�t know, flats it could be, made of brick.

What do people do for shops round here?

Then I see this place, this shop. There�s all kinds of shit parked in front of it, on the pavement and off the pavement, cars and trucks, there�s stuff double parked, you can hardly squeeze by. There�s a skip parked in front of it, there�s two skips full of everybody�s had a go, there�s whatever, rubble and cardboard boxes and wooden boards, builders boards, and bin liners full of crap, a metal chair, something it looks like a bit of old carpet, everybody�s had a go.

And the shop door�s open and there�s a light on.

I don�t stop, I�m keeping going, I�m thinking shall I stop.

You come one week, not one week, one year, you come one year and you know where you are, you know every fucking road you could drive the North Circular blind, you could give a fucking guided tour, and then you come back the next year and you could be any fucking where, you could be in fucking Manchester you could be in Glasgow you could be in fucking Timbuktu.

I pull up.

I turn round, I do a u-turn and there�s people tooting at me, fucking toot away, fuck you, and I go down a little side street and park up.

And I�m walking back towards this shop, but I�m just putting one foot in front of the other. I�m thinking I don�t know if I can be bothered with this. I�m putting one foot in front of the other, and at the same time there�s something going on with my arms. I�m thinking, my arms, what�s going on with my arms, they don�t feel like my arms. And my legs, they don�t feel like my legs. What do they feel like, they don�t feel numb exactly, I can feel them, but they�re half numb as though they�re half mine, as though they only half belong to me.

And this is going on and at the same time I have the sun right in my eyes. You don�t see the sun for months and then it�s in your eyes and it�s blinding you. And I�m looking down at the pavement to get the sun out of my eyes and I�m thinking this pavement�s fucked, if you don�t watch where you�re stepping you could do an ankle you could break your fucking ankle on this pavement.

I�m walking back up the road with all this going on and the fucking traffic stinking the place, and there�s a concrete truck it�s fucking deafening.

Then I�m at this shop and the shop door�s open and I walk in there�s no bell.

I�m in the middle of this place thinking what the fuck�s this, this is a waste of time I should have kept going. The place is practically empty. Call it a shop it�s only a little shop it�s no bigger than my sitting room you, don�t need a lot of stock to fill a shop like this, but there�s fuck all in it anyway. It�s not a shop, it was a shop, it�s not a functioning shop now, what ever it was it�s not now. I don�t know why the door was open, there should have been a fucking sign on the door CLOSED FOR BUSINESS. This is a waste of time, get going Mick.

I�m in this shop walking up and down wondering what the fuck�s gone on here.

There�s a hole in the ceiling, there�s bits of plaster and shit on the floor I�m treading through it. And there�s a fridge with the fucking door smashed, the glass is smashed you could cut your hand to ribbons, and there�s fuck all in it, there�s a carton of milk. Get going Mick. There�s shelves in the shop, but there�s fuck all on them. There�s a plastic stand thing for videos you can whirl it around to see what videos there are, but there�s no fucking videos. There�s stuff lying about. There�s a cabbage there�s a carrot, there�s a till on the floor on its side, you can�t move round the place, I have to step over it. There�s a packet of cigarettes, there�s another packet, there�s three one after the other. I pick them up, I�ll have them.

This is a waste of time, get going.

I don�t know who�s more surprised, him or me.

He comes through the door at the back. I didn�t know there was a door, there�s a handle, apart from that you wouldn�t know there was a door.

He comes through the door. He�s a little bloke, he could be sixty, he could be sixty five, a skinny bloke, he�s only half-dressed, he has a vest on, he has I don�t know what he has on his feet, he doesn�t have socks. He doesn�t see me, then he does, and he stops. And you�d think I was pointing a gun at him, his head is head is pointing to one side and his mouth is hanging open.

�Sorry, we�re closed.�

�I�m looking for the M25. Any idea?�

�What?�

�I�m looking for the M25. Any idea?�

�No, sorry, I can�t help you.� And he�s sticking his arm out and he�s pointing towards the street. �That way out, please.�

And just at that moment there�s light in the ceiling and it starts flickering off and on, it�s been fine I haven�t noticed it, and then it starts flickering and going half off and on and making a noise like fucking flies dying. And I�m thinking what�s happening here, is he doing it, he sticks his arm up and the light�s playing up. And I tell him sort it out will you, it�s making me feel funny, can you sort it out, is this your idea of a joke. But I might as well be talking to a lump of fucking wood for all the notice he takes of me.

I go up to him and I stick my face in his face, and I think why can�t he keep himself clean, why can�t he wash, and I say excuse me, is this your idea of a joke.

And then he�s backing away, he�s holding his hands up in front of his face as though he�s scared shitless. And I�m telling him what�s the matter with you, I�m not hitting you, I�m just talking to you, I�m just asking you to sort the fucking light out. If I wanted to hit you I could pick something up and fucking hit you one, you wouldn�t see it coming, you wouldn�t know what had hit you fucking believe me.

This is fucking ridiculous. He�s backing away and he�s burbling now. That�s all you can call it, burbling. He�s opening and closing his mouth he�s fucking dribbling words, if he�s speaking it�s not fucking English. And then he�s lost it completely. He�s chucking stuff around the place.

He picks something up and he chucks it, and then he�s off over to the fridge and he has his head in stuffed in the fucking fridge, he could slice his neck off. And he�s jumping up and down on this packet of milk on the floor he splashing about in the milk. And a bottle goes flying across the floor, whoops, fuck me, where did that come from. And there�s glass everywhere. And then he�s hitting his head against the wall, he�s trying to knock the wall down with his head, it�s a wall you old cunt, you can�t you need a hammer for that, but he�s not doing a bad job, he�s making dents in it. And then he�s stopped. And he�s sitting on the floor holding his head and shaking it about and sobbing away, it�s embarrassing.

And then he�s talking to me, he�s flapping his hand around, he�s pointing about and he�s saying look mister, why does he call me mister, look at all this lot, I�m finished, he says I�ve had it completely. He says he�s fucked, he had his shop and it�s fucked, they�ve fucked him.

What? Why are you telling me this.

�What am I going to do?�

I don�t know, don�t ask me.

And I think serve you right, what were you doing while a bunch of toe rag kids were robbing you half a dozen times.

There�s a police force, what were they doing, get the fucking police out, it�s their fucking job.

They were coming like little rats, the cunts. They had the roof, they were dropping in through the roof, they had the door, they had the windows, they had the shutters, it was a fucking invading army. They were shitting and pissing on the floor, and carrying his stock out the back door and loading it up And what were you doing while this was going on. He was upstairs. Whereabouts upstairs. The cunt was hiding in a cupboard. He was thinking I�ll just stay here and they won�t find me and I�ll come out when the coast is clear. He was listening. They�ve gone, I think they�ve gone. What�s that, it�s nothing, they�ve gone. And he gets out and he smells smoke and thinks fuck they�re torching the fucking place, I�ll be burned alive, help, I�d better see what�s what. And he runs down the stairs and he chucks the washing up water on the fire.

He had no insurance. Of course had no fucking insurance, he�s uninsurable, I wouldn�t insure him you.

You took the wrong option.

You know what you should have done. The first one that came through the whatever it was, through the roof or the door or the window or whatever it was, you should have been waiting for him. And right, you little toe rag, you should have said, how about this. And before he knew what was happening you should have had his hand off with a meat cleaver. That would have taken the smile off his chops, that would have given him something to think about. Whack you thieving little cunt, you should have said, there�s one hand, and then you�re holding it up in front of his face for him to look at, and while he�s thinking about it trying to work out what�s going on you have the other one off. And then you give him a look and you say try thieving now you little cunt, I don�t think so. And you nail them up on a board outside with a sign, FUCK OFF THIEVING LITTLE CUNTS, DON�T COME THIEVING ROUND MY SHOP AGAIN. No, no you don�t, what you do is you walk him back to his mother. Where do you live toe rag. And you say here�s your little cunt, mother, and here�s his hands, here�s one hand, and here�s the other one, try sewing these back on.

He�s wailing. He�s lying on his side grabbing hold of his head wailing �Sorry, sorry, sorry.�

What does he mean sorry, what are you saying sorry for.

Then there�s this noise. I hear a noise from the back, I haven�t heard it before, there�s someone there.

And I open the door to the back, and there�s this woman who�s like skin and bone, as though she�s starving herself, standing on the concrete floor in her bare feet over by the sink. There�s a sink made of metal swaying about if you pulled it it�d come away. And she�s feeding this baby. She has this baby in her arms and it�s sucking her. And her eyes are open but she�s somewhere else, I don�t know where, but she doesn�t know what day of the week it is, she�s out of it.

Who is she. She�s half your age. No she isn�t, she�s twenty, she looks twenty, is she your wife, is she your daughter, who the fuck is she.

And this room is like the fucking shop, it�s empty, it�s stripped bare. There�s a bucket, there�s a pile of newspapers, there�s a bin bag lying about, a black fucking bin bag, and that�s it there�s nothing else.

And this baby�s sucking on her and I�m trying to hear it. I want to hear the sucking. But I can�t hear it properly because he�s still wailing, sorry, sorry, and whatever, shut up a minute, I have to go right in the room towards her, that�s better, that�s nice, that�s a sweet noise, but he won�t leave me alone, the cunt follows me, shut up, for fuck�s sake.

�Don�t hurt her.�

Why would I hurt her. I don�t want to hurt her.

And I turn round and go back to you. And I�m kneeling on the ground over you, and I�m holding on to your hair. And I lift your head of the ground, and I say don�t say that, I�m not going to hurt her, and I bang your head down, and I say don�t start accusing me.

And then she comes after me.

I�m banging his head, I�m not noticing her, I don�t know what she�s doing. And then she�s on my back. She�s jumped on my back, and I�m carrying her round. And she weighs fuck all but she�s tearing away at my face with her nails, and she�s biting me with her teeth like a fucking animal. And I�m walking round the room going round and fucking round with her on my back trying to chuck her off, but she�s holding on for dear fucking life. And I�ve got blood in one eye, and then I�ve got blood in the other eye, I can�t see a fucking thing, and we�re smashing into walls. And I�m saying for fuck�s sake, Jesus fuck girl, it�s not my fucking fault, don�t take it out on me, take it out on that cunt.

And then that�s it, and she�s off my back, I think thank fuck for that. She�s lying in a corner half propped up against the wall as though she�s going to fall over completely any minute, and one leg�s sticking straight out in front of her and the other leg�s bent up sideways.

And I�m thinking don�t move girl, stay there, stay where you are a minute, let me clear off out.

And then I remember. The baby. Fuck. Where�s the baby.

I�m looking round but I can�t see him, I can hear him but I can�t see him, then I do. There he is. He�s half covered with a newspaper, how did that happen, but his little arms and legs are sticking out, and he�s shaking them and screaming his head off. Then he stops. And I think, I know what he�s doing, he�s taking a breath. And he takes a fucking good breath, and then he has a couple of gasps to wind himself up and get himself going, and then he�s off screaming his little lungs out again, and I�m thinking he�s got a fucking good pair of lungs on him.

I�m pulling out backwards, there�s no room to turn round. And I get to the end and there�s a stream of traffic, and I�m thinking are you going to let me in, let me in you cunt, it won�t take you a second.

I�m driving along and my feet have swelled right up, they�re agony, and I think why do my feet always swell up, what�s wrong with my feet, I can�t stand another three hours of this.

There�s a walkway over the road from one side to the other, there�s a sign that says works access only, there�s trucks parked up and trailers, there�s about twenty white-coloured trucks and trailers lined up in a yard together next to the road, pointing away from the road. There�s lights, with a pub on the corner, I�m sitting waiting at the lights, there�s a beer garden and a disabled entrance, there�s a car park at the back, you can�t see it, I can�t see it from where I am. There�s a playing field with goals, and there�s a caravan in a field.

And I pull over onto the hard shoulder when I get the chance. And I take my shoes and socks off and I put them on the floor on the other side next to me. I can drive in bare feet it�s not a problem, I used to drive practically all summer in bare feet when I was driving, it was hot as hell, it was more than a hundred degrees, and my feet were like footballs, and I thought fuck this for a game of soldiers, Mick, and I took my shoes off and I only put them back on for the borders. And I�m sitting on the hard shoulder and I�m thinking it�s not even your own ash, they just shovel a bit up, it could be anyone�s.

And I�m sitting on the hard shoulder and I�m thinking what�s the matter with you, Mick, get going, you can�t sit here all day, get a grip of yourself, you need to get back. And I�m thinking I�ve driven all over fucking France, you don�t need to speak French, just point. And I�m sitting bolt upright my hair�s rubbing on the roof, my head�s almost touching the roof, and I�m saying calm down, Mick, fucking calm down.

And I�m thinking don�t get out now, Mick, if you get out now with all this traffic whizzing by one of them will send you sailing if you�re not careful.

I�m thinking calm down, Mick, get a grip of yourself, try and relax for fucks sake.

And I�m saying count, Mick, count. And I start counting. I count one, I count two, I count three. It�s too fast, you�re too fast, Mick, fucking slow down, start again.

I start again.

I count one. One fish, one fish in the water.

Two, two fish in the water.

Three, three fish in the water.

Four, four fish in the water.

� Alan Ram
Reproduced with permission

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