Does this count?
I was wracking my brains in the car on the way home last night for pointless experiments and eventually came up with this. It sort of involves a double experiment: with psychedelic mushrooms, cannabis & beer, and the English language. It was written a little after 10pm on Thursday 8th November 1984, and was part of a long letter (14 hand-written sides of A4) to my best mate back in England, towards the end of my epic travels round Europe with a backpack.

I won't try to explain any more except to apologise to Anthony Burgess and Jean-Paul Sartre - under whose influence I appear to have been - but I think there's more than a hint of pure, early Grimsdale too. It goes - in part - like this:

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I left Nice on a beautiful sunny morning, I woke when the electric clock went off and I tripped out of bed, 7am rise and rise and shine he said to himself. So, I packed and I, what did I do, oh yes, I went into Melanie's bedroom, she was still asleep but woke up as I opened the door, she made a slight murmuring sound, it sounded like, I'll get up in a few minutes, so I made some coffee and she came into the kitchen all dressed in black, sort of pyjamas, with her white skin, a sleepy smile, Oh you've made coffee, give me a kiss, and, well, drink some coffee, and well, yes, let's go into the bedroom, and she tired, half-asleep, pulling me, as I finished packing, stretching on the bed, a cat, all black, and me, I'm the kind of guy, who is always...on the road, I was happy, so happy, just singing and yes, I've got time for a little warm cuddle with me DMs on a little bed in Nice with a little girl from Nice, who liked me a lot, but like, it was really good, cos I was going, so then I went, rucksack on, lumberjack shirt on, and, the road, I had no sign, but I bought some Camels so, ya know, I was on the Promenade des Anglais, and I was Anglais, so I walked on...

...he let me off at a peage and I ate two bananas and a really cool black guy picked me up in a green VW Beetle and the first thing he put on the stereo was Sexual Healing - Marvin Gaye and that had special memories for me - Ursula, and then it was Talking Heads - Remain in Light, fuck it, I can't go on with this, anyway it was a great day's hitching and then Montpellier where Roger he cried out to the town, and wandered for hours, pack on back and on his shoulders and on his neck and on his legs and he walked for hours and searched with lighter for his name for Berryman at flatblocks near the Fac, but found he Roger none so crashed he out in garden and slept with cat and with tamarisks in garden and woke and got up but went on with quest to university where students where english where Roger was, and wandered he all morning long and coffees drunk he and shits he had and eventually he got to the caf John and dahn the caf he 'eared some english voices calling from the tongue of his motherland and it beckoned him sit he down, so he chatted and blow me down if one of the girls weren't a certain girl he'd already met before years ago, sharing a flat with Mandy when I went up to visit her at Birmingham Uni, that cold October back in '82 just a tiny bit over 2 years ago today! So...they also knew Roger so they gave me his phone number and Bingo, 17 hours after your faithful narrator landed his arse in ol' Montpellier he re-encountered his long lost droog of ol' Bournemouth town know to the world as Roger Peter George Berryman esquire and the rest is history.

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Hmmm, those memoirs are going to need a bit of editing I think...
(Che Grimsdale Best before:, Fri 25 Jul 2008, 10:18, 1 reply)

Hmm
sounds like a song by long-lost Scouse indies Ooberman
(Dr Teeth Who asked you, you fuckin' hobbit?, Mon 28 Jul 2008, 4:45, closed)