Friday 8:15 p.m.
All names have been changed to assuage the guilty. Everyone involved went on to become bastions of the community and heid bummers in the various eschelons of local government, except for moi.
This is for all you pill poppers in the bloggiesphere.
Throw them away! It is not ra bliss!
I came to myself standing there in the middle of the car park outside the polis station the middle of Glasgow. I'd just been thrown out of the cop shop by two big Glesga polis who had then turned and walked back into the cop shop. Dazed and confused, so I was. Then I didn't know where I was. Recollection came to me and I stumblebummed back into the cop shop and demanded to know what they were doing with my friend. Ding, ding on the bell. Fuckin' you again, says the polis. Three times I got thrown out of the jail.
Then I was sitting there on the bench waiting. I'd been thrown out of the jail, but I hadn't searched myself before. So I found a handful of valium, laughed like a drain and ate them all. Then the polis came through the swing door and ... fucking you again! ... dragged me inside the inner temple and got this D.S. joe to search me. What a laugh I was having! Then I got booked and went into the cells for fourteen hours total sleep.
I was a month before my final exams at uni. We had tickets for the cup final. Around this time I was very friendly with a joe who had a bit of paper which said he was a valium and mogadon dependent with schizophrenic tendencies. Two cars were heading off to Glasgow.
I was going to the cup final to see the huns getting put to the sword, but the ticket is for the Rangers end.
Ireland is calling. It calls to you and me. Ireland is calling. It's calling to be free. For Ireland's sake, abandon all your fears. Ireland is calling. Calling for volunteers.
So I thought having some valium was perfect.
I only write this stuff for Ion, but if I was to do the subject justice, I would have to try writing, and I've more or less given that up.
I'd like to remark that the polis involved in this particularly arresting scenario behaved with fantastic professionalism. They were mocked and verbally abused, but no kickings were dealt out although they were deeply deserved.
When we got bailed, I went home to Bellshill to get my suit for the court appearance. The progeny of the evil bourgeois, who all went on to become pillars of the community, didn't want to tell their mums and dads. Whited sepulchres, they get it with their mother's milk!
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8 comments:
I say!
Finally, after at least three years of boring bliss-nonsense, you cut to the thrust, and this blog is starting to get interesting with respect to giving witness to past misdeeds.
In addition, "...very friendly with a joe who had a bit of paper which said he was a valium and mogadon dependent with schizophrenic tendencies." -
How is it, Hotboy, that you are familiar with so many pillars of society?
We demand to know.
MM III
P.S. I've had a few of the green and yellows this evening (for the pain), plus a couple of MGTs on the side, despite warnings on the packaging to avoid alchol, so please excuse all the typos.
I say!
I could be almost certain that I just posted a seriously funny comment here, which seems to have got lost in the blogosphere.
Which makes me wonder how these bloggy techies, who design these things, would manage to exist in the bhundu for longer than half an hour.
MM III
Doctor Robert says to tell you this is progress - get on the 12-step programme, embrace former misdeeds and be healed of the cravings. This must be the step about atoning for wrongs done to others. Will the coppers be Chief Constables now? Tip off the press before the apology, get some free publicity. It worked for the Aussie PM.
Best wishes from a bastion of the community.
I say! I thought this quote might have helped you if the constables had delivered a kicking:
"Don't turn away. Keep looking at the bandaged place. That's where the light enters you."
PS MM - can you identify the quote?
Mingin'! The bloggie isn't supposed to be interesting. It's a record for serious minded blissheids of moi's arising from flatheidedness on my way to rebirth on a planet far away where there are only nice people who do not contaminate moi with their bad habits and personal weaknesses. Besides, having a piece of paper saying you are mentally ill is a must have in this day and age! Hope this helps. Hotboy
Albert? Is that you? The polis will all be retired by this time on fat pensions, but since they won't meditate, they will never be happy! Hotboy
Arnold? No idea where the quote is from. Had that boy been smoking the stuff that gives you schizophrenic tendencies? Sounds like it! Hotboy
That boy was a girl.
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