A shortened version of something which grew to almost "slim volume" length in a matter of a few frantic minutes. Probably not what Lucy was hoping for at all!
Like me they'd had dandruff and terrible spots and that lurking testosterone smell
which pervaded the bike-sheds at Hackney Sec. Mod. As a group we had failed to excel
at anything much except dreaming of sex; for most of each term-time had been
spent staring up Emily Evans's skirt and lying about what we'd seen.
But Friday's Reunion “Nite” at The Grand convinced me, for what it is worth,
that it isn't the meek but the mentally bleak who have come to inherit the earth.
Viz., Jeremy Lloyd, of grey matter devoid, with his E Grade in Media Studies
has been Head of TV and of Radio 3 and is one of Lord Patten's best buddies.
The rest are all rock stars, celebrity cooks, Big Brother contestants – or worse --
for Anthony Frame who could scarce spell his name has won a Nobel for his verse …..
While middle-aged me with two As and a B, having married a girl who's now Kurt,
am pockmarked with acne, still squatting in Hackney, still dreaming of Emily's skirt.
Last edited by Martin Parker; 02-26-2014 at 03:34 AM.
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