Ugly fashion town

Friday I went into town after work to pick up my monthly geek magazine. First port of call was the bank to get some money out, problem was that most of the speed banks were out of order or draped in blanket of human sick, after finding one that worked and waiting ten minutes behind a pensioner that used about five cards in the speed bank I poddled on (yes hobbits poddle). Sauntering across the market place I pass several chav’s on the way to the post office to que up and cash their giro, each chav has a girlfriend with two runny nosed kids in a double buggy playing with flick knives, the girlfriend’s muse and fondle large hoop earrings as plan on spending their hard earned giro. As I intake the morning air I feel I’m in a people watching mood. I pass the town hall and wonder why we have elected the same MP for years when evidently he does very little, his rival in the recent election was keen to point out his lack of appearances in parliament and high expenses claims, evidently the people of my town don’t learn. As I walk into the shopping centre that was built in the early seventies and robbed the town of a few streets and lots of character I notice its beginning to look a bit jaded now.

I have to draw upon self discipline to pass HMV and Game as the sale signs reach out to caress my interest and lure me into retail heaven. I collect my mag from Smiths and head for home, mission successful, lets get out of this flea pit. It’s 9am and a chav passes me with a can of stella, my body clock tells me its really night time with doing a week of nights and I feel like beer briefly, perhaps he’s had a rough night on the rob.

Weaving my way up to the bus station I bump into Ray the busker, despite living in my town he always has a cheerful disposition and greets me with a sardonic smile, I envy his optimism. Years ago Ray played his guitar in a local Italian restaurant and would strum away Jethro Tull or the Stones to me as I made drunken requests or got pasta down my shirt whilst leering at a doxie with cleavage. I pass the time of day with Ray who is just setting up, well dropping his hat on the floor for loose change. As usual he asks me the same questions and I give him the same answers, a nice simple none thinking series of verbal transactions and gesticulations occur, as he hasn’t started playing I don’t leave him my usual quid.

Climbing the stairwell to the bus station an ambuscade of more chav’s happens, how identical they all look with their baseball hats. Wearily I reach the top of the stairs and regard the floor of the bus station, a myriad mosaic of cigarette ends, a pigeon decides to challenge me for some personal space, he looks a bit of a desperado so I concede and move around him. As I view the beautiful vista of the bus station a song comes to mind as people pass me ‘Ugly fashion town’ by a band called ‘Salad’. I grin to myself as I wait for the bus and an old lady smiles at me thinking I’m just as mad as the rest of them, maybe I am. I gaze at some flats opposite the bus station and ponder on who’d actually want to live there?

Tom the junkie passes me, he’s a black guy in his late forties I guess, his pock marked face and gaunt appearance evident for all to see, he sees an old friend who obviously doesn’t want to see him, he blames his stagger and lurching on bad ankles but I know its more likely his last smack hit starting to wear off. He was probably a vigorous man once, I wonder to myself what went wrong and begin to empathise but avoid his gaze so he doesn’t talk to me.

The bus journey home is fairly quick we pass boarded shops but as we pass the night club there’s a sign that says ‘coming soon, Max and Paddy’s road to nowhere’. Smiling to myself I think that’s exactly right, if they came to my town, they be on a road to just that – nowhere.