The Bullring

SOMEBODY

A punters bare arse in frenzied bee stinging motion

greeted me as I left Saint Martins in the Fields.

Pausing for a moment I realised to my horror

that I’d forgotten to bless myself on exiting.

I made my way back into the church

and tripped over a filthy looking thing.

Between the shrieks as I kicked out

I heard a whimpering voice asking for change.

He was probably used to hard-luck stories

and no doubt had many in his repertoire,

so I told him that I’d just put the last pennies I had

into the poor box to help the starving children of Africa.

Of course that was a white lie.

I wanted to tell the lazy sod to shift his arse

and get a job but that would not have been kind,

besides I had just had my sins forgiven by the craggy old priest

whose wrinkles no doubt were matched only

the number of young alter boys he had shagged;

I didn’t want to blot my copybook

within the first few minutes of absolution,

so I politely pointed out

that there were public ablutions in the rag market

and further informed him that water was free

should he wish to  avail himself.

On my way back to the station my ears were bombarded

with the sounds of yet another young waster

as he busked at my expense  in the afternoon sun.

He was singing, "There was a tavern in the town."

“Until the hero republicans blew the heads

off every one drinking in the cellar bar”. I replied.

I chastised the fellow, for his song was a travesty.

I suggested he go away and work on the rhyme scheme

and if it had improved by the time of my next visit

to the city with  the hill without snow and a ring without bull

I might then and only then throw him a few coppers

with the proviso that he didn’t abuse my generosity

by spending the coins on anything other than singing lessons.

ANYBODY

Up before the magic gates at 2 o’clock

and twenty short of the standard fine.

I’d been hanging around for hours waiting for a punter.

The coppers had been doing a clampdown the night before

in order to appease the locals, so trade was a little slow.

They were a bit miffed about that especially as it meant

they wouldn’t be getting any freebies themselves for a while.

Still it left them with plenty of choices;

they could always use their truncheons on their wives; a bit of imagination

and their right hand and who knows.

Or failing that they could crack open the heads

of a few innocents or drunks to relieve their frustration.

I did manage to turn a trick though, from the greasy fat-bellied trader

who sold fake Levis and pirated tapes from a stall in the rag market.

I took his thirty quid and we were doing the business out side the church

when this guy came out with a big cheesy grin across his face.

He stopped, glanced over then immediately went back inside.

It seemed a bit odd but hey, maybe he was waiting to take his turn.

Punters don’t usually queue up but I can live in hope.

I thought my luck was in but it wasn’t, as he didn’t show his face again.

Anyway the smell of garlic from the breath of the fat sod slamming me

as he slobbered away was beginning to get right up my nose.

I reckon he must have slept in the chip fryer over night; he stunk so badly.

I couldn’t wait all day so I helped him along a little by rattling his balls

and pretending he was turning me on, all this at no extra charge of course.

Eventually he shot his bolt but then the filthy pig wiped his dick on my skirt

before pulling a grubby pair of Calvin Kline boxers back up over his arse.

I tidied myself up as best I could and then, dropped the lad begging couple of quid

Before stopping off for a bite to eat at Joe’s “bring your own crockery” café,

as I had a little time to spare before making my way across the city, to get to court.

I nearly shit myself when the beak came in from his chambers and sat down.

It was the same guy I had seen coming out of St Martins earlier that day.

I didn’t think he’d recognised me so listened attentively bowing my head

in my usual little girl lost pose as he rattled out his bullshit

but as on every other occasion that I had found myself in this flea pit, it failed to work.

When he began to blame me for the declining moral standards of the nation

and told me that it was his Christian duty to rid the city

of all corrupting influences such as me, I flipped.

I know I should not have said to him that he was talking out of side of his arse

but he really pissed me off. He went on to fine me twice the norm.

I was seething and told him the next time he was in need of a quick blowjob

between sessions, he would have to pay me double my usual rate to compensate.

I suppose if I had kept my gob shut I wouldn’t have ended up in the cells for the night.

Oh well, live and learn, a good nights rest and it’s back to work tomorrow.

NOBODY

Bless me father for have I sinned…well I thought that was how it was supposed to go

but it had been a long time, “I bet they all say that eh father”. I said to the priest

He told me to “go on my son”,

Go on!…well I didn’t want to go on; that was why I was here after all…

I didn’t want to go on …

You see it in the pictures don’t you? and on TV…you know, where they look for Jesus when all else fails…

it had for me, failed that is, so I would lose nothing by trying eh….

I stopped talking at that point as the priest’s words reminded me of the last time my dad said “go on” to me….

he had said it many times before…”Go on piss off and don’t come back you’re nothing but fucking trouble”

I told the priest not to bother it didn’t matter as my confession would take all day and I didn’t want to spend another night alone and so left the church.

I’d made a decision, unusual for me I know but I guess it’s never too late to change as they say…

well you know the rest, but don’t you think it’s funny though? You know,

when you look at something from a differing viewpoint and it seems to look so much clearer.

I hadn’t seen a Ford from this position before so at least I will see something new before I leave…

I wondered how the pebbles embedded into the concrete walls felt while hanging about on the edge like that…

hanging on, just hanging there…no movement just hanging on…

stuck there, no one seeing them or talking to them, until I came along anyway…

Ah well some talk to trees and I talk to pebbles;

bet they haven’t been seen by anyone else other than me since they were dug up from a beach…I liked the beach and the seaside…

I thought of mom and sis and the few good times we all spent together there…I loved them and they loved me…

They hate me now and I…well I don’t know, I just wish, that is all…

I wish I could go back to the beach and start over. Yeah that would be good, it won’t happen though.

Haven’t been since I was a kid…I must be like one of those pebbles I suppose…anyway I looked down and saw the posh guy that kicked me in the head back at the church…he was getting out of a fancy Volvo brightly polished and just so…

thought about dropping through his sunroof and being there for when he got back…

my blood running out all over his nice clean upholstery haha …bet he would be pissed off with that eh.

“I couldn’t find the ablutions mate”, “Do you think you can wash me down here instead” haha that would teach him… 

I could see a bloody great advert from where I was standing: a billboard in the distance that read “Jesus Saves”…

and wondered if he would save me as I dropped towards the tarmac below…will he stop my guts and everything else

splattering all over the road…hey! maybe he once played in goal for Man United, haha…

yeah and had over one hundred caps for England; I doubt he’d save me though…well why should he, save me that is… bet he doesn’t even know who I am….

“come on Jesus save me then”, “come on then, save me, where the fuck are you?”

“Come on you bastard where are you…”

and then all I could hear was my father saying, “fuck off and don’t come back; go on fuck off and don’t come back”.

I started to cry at that point…don’t know why, I just did…I wondered if I would come back, though only briefly…