John Cooper Clarke - The Serial

The Serial:

(another of the 'unpublished Fiesta letter series)

wafting farts with a back issue of Jaynus

the bed-sit was ten foot by three foot six

and housed three bachelors of diverse, taste, age and conduct

It was littered with old football programmes

the only window was always shut owing to it's being stuck by layer upon layer of gloss paint

the smell of rancid brown ale pungent chip wrappings and overflowing ash-trays

fused with the natural secretions of the three into a nauseous corporate

he's always fucking her on the floor discovered Kevin

as tiny avalanches of plaster peppered his ice cream

“Maybe they're having a scrap” said Burt

the smart one

and as the mopeds - rasped off to the seaside

yvonne looked to the trees

and her stomach turned.”