Lil Lou was a very good girl,
But her Daddy went away.
She cried but he would not come back
No matter what she'd say.
Lou's Mummy had a special friend
And he would often stay
She asked her mummy once at night
Did he drive her Pa away?
Her Daddy came in his big car
But not into the house.
Not even one foot would he step
While he was with his spouse.
So Daddy stood in the doorway
While mummy smoked a fag
I'm taking Lou, your self respect,
And I will take the Jag!
You'll get nothing you dirty Whore,
You did wrong to me first!
There's an elephant in the room,
And I will see him cursed!
An Elephant! said Little Lou!
In this very room?
We don't talk about it, do we Lou?
But we will very soon.
A special, secret, Elephant
That no one talks about.
An Elephant inside this room
That Lou would ferret out.
Is he Big and Blue and Shiny?
With a long and bendy trunk?
Or is he pink and small like me?
Asleep inside my bunk!
He's a secretive animal,
That everyone knows.
In fact, He is the worst kept pet,
Dressed up in sheepskin clothes!
Lou looked everywhere, high and low.
Even behind the stairs.
She couldn't find the elephant.
Not for all her cares.
It's not for you, her mother snapped.
Your Dad was being a fool.
And be careful what you say of this,
When you go back to school.
Next day, at school, when Lou was called
To talk of her weekend
She screwed her face to recall her plight
The loss of her new friend.
There's an Elephant, in the room
That no one talks about!
They say it's there, but I can't see it.
And It makes everyone shout!
It's hiding see, I don't know where,
But I can't let it roam!
You see with it lose, and running free
My Daddy won't come home!
Lou's Teacher called her Mum and Dad,
And told them what she'd said.
Your child here, is very confused,
These notions in her head!
The Nelly must have gone away,
Cause Lou's Pop came Home!
And no more talk of elephants,
Or sleepovers for mum!
Friday 15 May 2009
Tuesday 5 May 2009
London Lads vs. Brighton Boys
I was invited to stay at a friend’s house for an evening over the long weekend; she lives in Brighton, so obviously I jumped at the chance of an evening of fun and sun by the beach. So I turn up and we spend the rest of the afternoon catching up, reminiscing about our ill spent youths, where and what people are doing now, past and present relationships and the topic of sex might have come up once or twice as well.
Then, we went out for a night on the tiles, I was taken to a few bars and introduced to Tuaca - a Brighton shot that was quite yummy, and we ended up at a club called Coalition. After an hour or so of serious dancing my friend went out for a cigarette and while I waited for her to come back found myself being chatted up by a very cute Australian Guy. Shortly after my friend decided she had far too much to drink and should take herself home to bed, my new Australian friend requested that I stay, and he asked so nicely I decided that it would be rude not to! After a fun filled evening, night and early morning with the Australian I ended up back at his place. It was upon waking up at his very nice flat, being given some very nice coffee and repeating last nights performance on his very nice corner group sofa that I got to thinking I could get used to this. When he dropped me back off at my friends in his Porsche I really was converted.
It started me thinking about what I had gotten used dating in London and maybe the Boys of Brighton had the edge; the Australian being my second Brighton Boy I feel inclined to examine the evidence.
First we have the flats: nice, beach adjacent, clean properties that are spacious, well furnished and solely occupied. Compare this to cramped, cupboard sized flats, overlooking dank alleyways and usually with one or two flatmates included. Flats are more expensive in London, I know, and there is less space so everything is pocket sized for your convenience but I've got to admit when it comes to real estate the Brightonians have got it licked, who wants to bounce around the bedroom like a ball in a pinball machine when you can run laps in the living room?
Then we have the cars, both Brighton boys had beautiful, and expensive convertible type cars where as most London lads don't even drive. Granted you don't need to drive in London, in fact it is preferable not to, but being greeted with a Porsche when your boy toy offers you a lift home instead of a moped made me feel all warm inside - but then, maybe that was the heated seats.
Finally there is the image, and that almost indescribable cool factor. Now don't get me wrong, I like a man in a suit, and most London boys clean up very nicely, and on a daily basis too, but after a while I get the impression that they have become style robots, spending so much of their life in the grey suit that mentally they have become a grey suit. I also think that the high stress lifestyles has bred a strain nervous dispositions, terrified of losing their jobs and climbing career ladders with the hunger of that of a small country means that most London boys spend their time wired up to blow at any second. Much like a highly excitable puppy, cute in a nervous way, but one false move and it will pee on your carpet. In Brighton it was refreshing to be surrounded by calm, collected people who are so completely at home in their own skin you can't help feeling more relaxed yourself. There is self expression on every corner, be it clothing, tattoos, piercing or hair, creating diversity that one usually only sees at the pick and mix counter.
Now I feel I haven't been fair to my London Lads, they are responsible for a fair amount of my past shenanigans, it is not, after all, their fault, they have evolved from their environment. Like a wary traveller suddenly coming face to face with a bird of paradise after being used to sparrows, I was dazzled by the bright feathers of the Brighton Boys, but let's face it; I am at heart a London girl. I think if I was to fully convert to their Brighton way I would soon be exposed as a fraud, my cynicism and insecurities would crack through the shiny exterior. So maybe I should stick with what I know, I mean really, a little neurosis is healthy isn't it?
Then, we went out for a night on the tiles, I was taken to a few bars and introduced to Tuaca - a Brighton shot that was quite yummy, and we ended up at a club called Coalition. After an hour or so of serious dancing my friend went out for a cigarette and while I waited for her to come back found myself being chatted up by a very cute Australian Guy. Shortly after my friend decided she had far too much to drink and should take herself home to bed, my new Australian friend requested that I stay, and he asked so nicely I decided that it would be rude not to! After a fun filled evening, night and early morning with the Australian I ended up back at his place. It was upon waking up at his very nice flat, being given some very nice coffee and repeating last nights performance on his very nice corner group sofa that I got to thinking I could get used to this. When he dropped me back off at my friends in his Porsche I really was converted.
It started me thinking about what I had gotten used dating in London and maybe the Boys of Brighton had the edge; the Australian being my second Brighton Boy I feel inclined to examine the evidence.
First we have the flats: nice, beach adjacent, clean properties that are spacious, well furnished and solely occupied. Compare this to cramped, cupboard sized flats, overlooking dank alleyways and usually with one or two flatmates included. Flats are more expensive in London, I know, and there is less space so everything is pocket sized for your convenience but I've got to admit when it comes to real estate the Brightonians have got it licked, who wants to bounce around the bedroom like a ball in a pinball machine when you can run laps in the living room?
Then we have the cars, both Brighton boys had beautiful, and expensive convertible type cars where as most London lads don't even drive. Granted you don't need to drive in London, in fact it is preferable not to, but being greeted with a Porsche when your boy toy offers you a lift home instead of a moped made me feel all warm inside - but then, maybe that was the heated seats.
Finally there is the image, and that almost indescribable cool factor. Now don't get me wrong, I like a man in a suit, and most London boys clean up very nicely, and on a daily basis too, but after a while I get the impression that they have become style robots, spending so much of their life in the grey suit that mentally they have become a grey suit. I also think that the high stress lifestyles has bred a strain nervous dispositions, terrified of losing their jobs and climbing career ladders with the hunger of that of a small country means that most London boys spend their time wired up to blow at any second. Much like a highly excitable puppy, cute in a nervous way, but one false move and it will pee on your carpet. In Brighton it was refreshing to be surrounded by calm, collected people who are so completely at home in their own skin you can't help feeling more relaxed yourself. There is self expression on every corner, be it clothing, tattoos, piercing or hair, creating diversity that one usually only sees at the pick and mix counter.
Now I feel I haven't been fair to my London Lads, they are responsible for a fair amount of my past shenanigans, it is not, after all, their fault, they have evolved from their environment. Like a wary traveller suddenly coming face to face with a bird of paradise after being used to sparrows, I was dazzled by the bright feathers of the Brighton Boys, but let's face it; I am at heart a London girl. I think if I was to fully convert to their Brighton way I would soon be exposed as a fraud, my cynicism and insecurities would crack through the shiny exterior. So maybe I should stick with what I know, I mean really, a little neurosis is healthy isn't it?
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