KID SHIRT

Sunday, November 13, 2005

THE SINGING COWGIRL



History has mainly forgotten Dorothy Page...she was, I guess, the female answer to the (better-known) singing cowboys like Roy Rogers or Gene Autry. Here, she helps a young orphan get his family ranch back from the polecats who done killed his kinsfolk. Them dirty varmints...

A NIGHT ON THE TILES

And here's one of them:



Total fucking mayhem in The Yeovil Kebab Shop 2:30-ish last night. The place was rammed w/ dozens of drunken testosterone-soaked yoofz wearing exactly the same 'casual' shirt, when some pissed-up shaven-headed nutter went berserk and started throwing chips at the staff.

Two of the Turkish brothers that run the place bellowed at him in broken Engish: "Ey, you! Fucken fuuuuck off! Fuuuuuuckk offf!"

(Much cheering and animal noises from the assembled drunks.)

"Yeah, fucken fuuuuucker, fucken fuuuuuck offf ri' now!"

I thought they were gonna vault the counter and give him an official Kurdish punishment beating, but the chip-thrower just shrugged and said, "Ah, fuck you. Ain't fucken doin' nuffink." Hard, meaningful, multi-lingual stares were passed between the two sides and an unspoken agreement was reached that he would be allowed to stay, providing he didn't throw any more chips at them.

Last time we went in there we met a gang of Pirate Goths. First in Yeovil, apparently. "Yeah, Pirate Goth is gonna be really big next year," explained a middle-class teenage girl in full Johnny Depp drag and too much make up. "But we're the first. None of our mates are into it...yet."

Thanks to Spike for gamely standing outside and holding my bike while a re-enactment of World War Three was being waged all around him.