nightgimp

10:30am Sunday Gary slowly comes to, half dressed and shivering on the edge of a filthy couch also occupied by a fat naked guy who’s lying face down with his head buried in cushions. He picks and eats the sleep from the corners of his eyes as he tries to remember who's flat it is and where it is. It does seem vaguely familiar with its smeared grubby pastel pink walls and blue ceiling. Its a high rise housing authority building, which is apparent from the low ceiling and flimsy cheap door, also painted pink, with holes knocked through. He peels his sticky arse off the sticky couch, pulls his dirty, red and black plaid trousers up his scrawny legs and picks his way through the strewn clothes, discarded takeaways and cans to the kitchen. He finds a packet of honey-nut flakes but there is only a putrid dribble of milk there. He eats the cereal dry, takes a shit in the toilet and leaves the flat. He doesn’t try to figure out who he has just spent the night with and by the feel of his a...

One vivid dream that I recall may have been inspired by working in a hotel restarant where food waste was exessive. The dream was in the setting of an exclusive hunting lodge. The lodge had its own small yard for rearing poultry for the consumption of the clientelle. The chef of the exclusive country establishment introduced a new surprise special to the menu. This became a very popular dish drawing an exclusive clientele to its restarant by personal reccomendations from the surrounding and wider area. When I asked what exactly the dish was I was informed by the proud chef that it was a 'Long Suckling Pork Spitroast with Sautéed Spring Greens and New Potatoes'. Certainly a big fanfare was made of serving it with large and very expensive silver serving dishes complete with huge dome covers. I came to realise what 'Long Suckling Pork' was when a local business event night was cancelled due to an untimely bereavement. Left out among boxes with the rest of the refuse waste ...

I used to live in the north outskirts of Belfast a few years back when I was at uni. I lived with three other fellas in this house near the university campus. They were all crazy lads from County Armagh in the restless border area and one of them, Brenny, was obsessed with animal traps. These are banned in the UK and Ireland and his dad made them for placing around the fields to catch any vermin or british soldiers. He brought some of these traps up to our student house and set them in the bit of waste ground behind our backyard where we soon caught six cats and a little dog. Anyway, one day while I was cutting through this nice neighbourhood that’s between the uni campus and our house, I heard American accents and saw this Yank family were moving into this house. They even had this big black american ‘Jeep’ thing with this bible basher fish sign on it. I says to me house mates when I got in about the yank happyclapper types moving into one of the nice houses and Brenny says ‘That’s fu...