The little old man sat on the bench in the park watching the people go by. He had no dog by his feet, only a copy of the newspaper which he had barely flicked through. The morning was cold and he could see his breath disappear as it moved further away from him.
His back ached, as it always did these days, and his pants, no matter what combination of belts and braces he used, never seemed to quite fit properly. He didn’t like the fact that the older he got the closer his zip got to his nipples. He lit a cigarette and paid attention to the people passing. Middle-aged joggers desperately trying to stave off old age for as long as possible, older ladies trying to tame young King Charles Spaniels so they wouldn’t criss-cross in front of them and cause them to break a hip, school kids mitching off. He didn’t blame them. Sitting on a log in the park smoking was far better than learning Irish or algebra or economics.
He thought about going home but home was empty, there was nobody there these days. His wife had died years ago, his son lived in New Zealand but phoned regularly enough. There was only so much Sky Sports News he could watch before he wanted to put his foot through the television. He had never been one for hobbies like gardening or lawn bowls or the other sedate pastimes the over 70s had to endure.
He could go home and read, his shelves were filled with all kinds of books but he needed more escapism than words on a page could provide. A film, perhaps? Although he liked the solitude there was something just inordinately lonely about going to the cinema on your own in the middle of the day. Cinemas at that time were for sad loners, the unemployed and the terminally friendless. On the other hand though they were dark and warm and considering the bitter chill of the day he put his initial reservations aside and made his way into town.
Gone were the days of grotty dank cinemas. There was no Green, no Odeon, no Cameo. All modern, all full of popcorn machines and bags of sweets that cost more than his first suit. He chose his theatre then the film he thought would have the least visitors. A slapstick comedy featuring a ‘comedian’ popular with the teens who, for the most part, were being bored off their heads learning Irish and algebra and economics.
He took a seat at the back, he was early but by the time the film started there were only three other people there. One of them, annoyingly, sat almost right beside him. There were 200 seats in the cinema, why would he do that? The old man, tutting loudly, got up and moved to the other side of the room, to the very back row and to the seat in the left hand corner as you faced the screen. After the ads and trailers the film came on and it wasn’t very funny. The comedian was too zany, trying desperately hard to be funny.
The old man sighed, took out his works, cooked up and after he removed the syringe from his wrinkled arm it didn’t matter whether the star of the film was funny or not.
Profound is the only word that comes to my mind.
Sitting on a log in the park smoking was far better than learning Irish or algebra or economics.
-Not as clever as nipping into the jacks in McDonald’s and getting rid of the log. Nothing ruins a good smoke more than a nagging turtle’s head.
As long as the Irish still drink from toilet bowls, enlightenment will always be out of their grasp —- Buddha.
Twenty …you should go visit your da rather than phone him from new zealand … u never know whats happening to him (he may have developed a drug problem)
I though he would take out his works and give em a good polishing … but then again I was always into pee wee herman cinema antics
Yer man’s doing alright then; dosh for the films, with shelves of his own for books his eyes can no longer focus on well enough to read…that haven’t been burnt for heat yet, and he can still afford the gear. Idyllic, some might say.
Very close, Twenty…
Would that work at a Damien Rice gig too?
I’d have liked some of what he’s on when I sat through Kicking And Screaming – without a doubt, Will Ferrell’s worst movie ever. It was no Talladega Nights: The Ballad Of Ricky Bobby.
I wonder what the school teachers will think of this when they get here, will they say that old man was Gay but not Homosexual, because of his drugs will they call him PatWithTheCRACK?
I would just like to state that anything that includes Will Ferrell is shite and that no amount of heroin is going to improve the quality of his comedy.
The word “zany” should be purged from the English language.
actually funnily enough I had a though last week …
Why not become a drug addict when your like over 70 and the kids are all reared and the grand kids are doing fine … If her in doors has already departed then why the fuck not….
Fuckit Id say a line in teh morning…a line at noon and a line in the evening would put a kick back into life.Has anyone done any research on drug abuse for over 65′s …
Charlie would be too expensive for a pensioner it would have to be smack and crack
Twenty – seen this old geezer?
http://abcnews.go.com/International/story?id=4385601&page=1
101, smokes, drinks and in training for the London Marathon!
( BBC bastards of course don’t mention that he smokes in their report! )
Not at all … im in me late twenties now … shure if I put away a bit every week id have a good drug fund when i hit 65 ….
also that dirty crack and smack would be no good… at least with the devils dandruff in me system id be able to go play football with the lads in the park and afterward be able to take that sex craving off of me with a couple of brassers …
That old 101 chap was in Ireland with the Black and Tans, just goes to show you can’t keep a good man down!
Tim, take that cock out of your ass and stick it in your mouth.
Forever.
J5 leave him alone he is struggling with his sexuality and has a need to get attention, and of course being from London and called Tim he is blatantly a “James Blunt”
J5, I don’t know what you mean please explain.
It was so bad your life flashed before your eyes?
Very similar to the killer granny story.
What’s your fascination with old people Twenty?
“That old 101 chap was in Ireland with the Black and Tans, just goes to show you can’t keep a good man down!”
They didn’t have 12 year olds in the Black & Tans except as the obligatory buggery puppet.
He wasn’t in the Black and Tans his father was a Captain and he used to go over to visit on school holidays and such.
much like watching eastenders……
bizarre.
I like Feynmans idea. Lead a good healthy life and then become a junkie in your 70s. Very, very good idea
Apologies Tim, let me clarify. What I mean is take that cock out of your ass and stick it in your mouth. forever.
Hope this helps.
Nothing can be as bad as watching Eastenders!
J5, still don’t understand, you seem to be better versed in thes matters so please explain.
Your mother is a cunt, Tim.
TIM? I SAID YOUR MOTHER IS A CUNT??
Is it possible that Tim is in fact the Proud Englishman. I would also venture he doesn’t have a mother, he evolved from the spent ejaculate in Barrymores swimming pool anc crawled out of the ooze.
J5, the speed and content of you replies goes to show that you do know more about a wider range of things than me, if I need advice on any subject I will ask only you.
Ask me how wide your Granny’s chuff is.
My mother is from DUBLIN..
Thus making her even more of a cunt.
Do I sense a burgeoning love affair between Johnny and Tim?
First the sweet talk, then the sweet sweet love.
J5, where is your mother from, I won’t ask about your father because I’m sure there are somethings even you don’t know.
Johnny 5′s always been a scurrilous cunt and has never pretended otherwise. He can take as good as he gives though. Unlike London Tim who, slighted by some jestful comments concerning the gayish nature of his name, has resorted to lurking around here making vaguely anti-Irish noises in a puerile attempt to stir up shit that will, he hopes, enable him to restore his honour and get some of the attention he craves.
I think all the gay comments must’ve hit a nerve, myself.
Tim, My Da is your Ma, the massive cocked wench.
At the risk of looking like I’m sticking up for that fanny-dodging, arse-bandit, fudgepacker of a gay cunt, London Tim, (I’m not, really!), I must say I thought comment #35 was very good.
Pity you couldn’t put those little hearts on your i’s Tim. And maybe some glitter.
It wasn’t bad, Monkey Balls, for a gay like.
Lord Thundering Jesus, I nearly pissed myself with that last exchange. Twenty, ya gotta hire these guys…
What the fuck was this post about I’ll have to read it again, all you cunts must spend your time around Steven’s Green.
I’ll not be offering my services to twenty again.
the last time he short changed me a fiver and wiped jizz on my jumper.
I once worked with a Tim, in London, and he was a proper flamer. We worked in an office, with a small hatch through which we interacted with the other employees.
One day he came to work, and there was something serious wrong with his arse. He had great difficulty getting up and down off his seat, yet he insisted on sitting at the forementioned hatch, because he was the only non-smoker.
Much hilarity ensued, as he struggled to deal with every caller to the hatch, with the result that he reported us all. Management moved him to another department.
Another gay, Jon, told us the only way to get the injury that Tim had was by shoving bottles up your arse. Or maybe Jon was just jealous.
I just hope to fuck it’s not the same Tim.
I hope it is.
Spellinh John without the H is very nearly as gay as being called Tim.
There is TRULY no name gayer than Jon with no h. I think we finally have a winner
Surname ‘Cobbin’!!!!!
“I just hope to fuck it’s not the same Tim.”
Is it money you owe him or just the usual sexual favours?
Jon Cobbin??? Good shite…
DaleTheMoron “is” back!
He was cobbin the arse off Tim for months was Jon, the fucking benny
I am sorry but Jeremy is the gayest name in the world bar none
GOS, have you ever had to spend time with a constantly moaning gay, who whinges all fuckin’ day, and see homophobia everywhere he looks? It was only tolerable because he told us stories about him and his partner Roger. (I kid you not!)
There’s still a groove in my tongue now, from having to bite it so much back then.
My uncle has a manager in one of his pubs they call him Pat the Puff, is that a gay name?
No. Tim is.
Which one is Pat the Puff? Your uncle?
Is Pat the Puff your “Wife” Tim. And when you say Uncle do you mean the minty older man who broke you in?
I too am one that likes Feynmans idea. however i would take it one step further than a drug fund. Ive actually thought about this and reckon trepanning is the way to go once you hit OAP status…. Nothign quite like an everlasting high that you aint gonna come down from….
“GOS, have you ever had to spend time with a constantly moaning gay, who whinges all fuckin’ day, and see homophobia everywhere he looks? It was only tolerable because he told us stories about him and his partner Roger. (I kid you not!)”
Heh-heh, I bet he was fond of a bit of Rogering alright.
I did work with a pre-op tranny for a while. Expected to be considered and treated as a woman while looking like a slightly deranged beard-rashed bloke with tits. Would get spectacularily hissy if referred to as “he”. It was as gay as you like.
GOS, I worked with a post op tranny just like that who had a penchant for wearing black jeans and baggy Motorhead T-Shirts, was an Audio-Visual Specialist…please tell me the world is not that small.
I went to see ‘Prospero’s Books’ in the cinema in London with two gays. By the end of the film, turned on by the copious amounts of gratuitous nudity, the two of them were bet into each other.
Lonliest night of my fuckin’ life.
I went to the Cinema during the day once(being a sad loner) and like that in an empty theatre, some cunt comes and sits right beside me,
WHAT THE FUCK!!!
I got up and walked to the other side, and he didnt flinch… saw nothing wrong.
a
Twenty, fucking great ending even Finns got it, so its gotta be good
You can just swallow nurofen, no need to gear up – I’m sure it’d fix the arthritis just the same?!
This post comes across like the story of a dead man who can’t be arsed to give up breathing.
“I went to the Cinema during the day once(being a sad loner) and like that in an empty theatre, some cunt comes and sits right beside me”
you should have kept farting on him. that’d learn him.