Terry. Womaniser, Tyrant. Megalomanic meth-head fantasist. Myopic maligner. He went away to come back. He went out his ma’s back in an attempt to find peace, only to discover seven drowned rats in a sparkling drain.

Don’t you try to write at a computer. The glare off the electric screen will confound you. So as to say, your mind will be otherwise obstructed by a paralysing glint, the likes of which you could be doing without, bucko. So here’s a pint of who’s-yer-man? And a grottle of unplucked thumbs. Give one out for the paupers, and twice as many for the police.

The last police I met had his hand up me arse like a puppet. He had me singing hymns and homilies; him on the mulled children’s-blood, the black art’s practicing bastard. I loved him all the same, for he had a right growth of fur beneath his chin that served to cushion somewhat the whole blow of having been incarcerated.

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Grease me up
Brack me doon
Gear we sup
And wear the crown

A jumper on
For to fight this coul
Every bastard smiling
I’ll just scowl

Grease your joints
And stretch on oot
Double socks
Fire on them boots

Hot whiskey, two
Ya couldn’t wear these shoes
But it’s something that
Ye don’t really choose

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I put my eyes in the direction
Of a well clad lass
She’d the bunny boots on
And her pinafore

Every time her wee eyes
Dipped and rolled as sweet
For to torture ool men
As ool as meself and then some

Observed a level of respect
The lot of us, me speakin’
And so we’d all another
And she poured away the finest

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Ye’ll never clap in my black face
So long as I remember the jeers
But the easier this one goes
I’m liable to lighten up

And the both of us here having
Forgotten silly things that go
Between men and brothers
And even their faithers

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I’d a great ghost story to tell ye, but I’d promised the ghost not to ever say. So here again we all are, with our attendant miseries, and us flying in their faces with defiance and, yeah, a bit of joy too. I’ve to thank every one of you, and you know it well, so it’s another one for the boys. Another year of lessons and lessening, only for us to build back up and buckle the brakes off any that would scupper us further. Man alive, I believe I’ll dip agin me toe. xo