going back to san francisco to be finally at ease as i've reached the heralded last rung, become a part-time London Drunk
the Bristol Boys are lunatics but madness has its virtue they all smash their pints, feign legless fights because its what they're fucking used to one autumn night in Birmingham after the band had played we piled into that filthy van and got out of that fucking place, by half a mile or half a minute i was a sunken, bloated slag i puked up on the floorboards, my jacket and pant-leg