In fact, I've done led you so far up my arse I don't believe we'll ever find a way out, certainly not in this weather.
I didn't mean to, man, it ain't The Duke's fault, I swear on all fuck.
And all the while Spring sitting there with its cigarette dangling from tween its lips, lost in quiet gratitude.
Sometimes around March, what occurred was I woke up one morning and found myself sat in the back garden with The 120 Days Of Sodom in one hand and a notebook in the other, an acoustic guitar propped against brick and Grafton Street eyes burning behind my own.
As far as the snow and the wind and the rain might be concerned, the previous winter had been one of the mildest in years.
Up here in the furthest reaches of The Duke's Arse, though, that winter gets painted all shades of metaphorical, and metaphorically, it was the harshest winter a motherfucker ever endured. The kinda winter when a fella ends up face-down in the snow, ends up getting poked with sticks for to see if he's still breathing, and then next thing anyone knows it's the sheriff and the county coroner looking down on a fella's face and laughing.
Sweet Jesus, boy, we done thought you'd died.
Yes. But I'm much better now. Think I passed out someplace around the prostate, but heading towards the light right now, sir.
The light reeks of 24-Hour Reality TV. Big Brother, online, on satellite, highlights every night at ten, vote on a Wednesday, watch the votes come in on a Friday.
Big Brother. The annual trek from mid-spring to mid-summer, and all in the company of 12 conceited yet fascinating culture whores, or 13 conceited yet fascinating culture whores as was the case this year.
13 faces, 26 eyes all alive with the possibility of magazine covers, shampoo adverts, radio phone-in's with her off of that show about a buncha folks fight over the pasta for two months.
I fucking adore Big Brother.
Watching these telly people wander around arguing and fighting and dry-humping, a fella can't help but feel intoxicated with the kinda vengeful Old Testament zest known only to a select group of madmen and revolutionaries.
And The Lord said something long the lines of "Entertain me, and the gifts will be plentiful. Manna the likes of which you never saw, lining every shelf on every newsagent in the land, and all with your yap smeared cross the front."
But woe to the yap what bores me!
For you? You'll be lucky if your novelty Euro-disco number ever sees the light of promotional vinyl.
Article comments
1 - Temple Stark
Is this your audition tape for Innerspace II?
2 - Eric Berlin
Great stuff, Duke.
So what's next now that you've sprung free well into summer?
3 - Mat Brewster
Up here in the furthest reaches of The Duke's Arse, though, that winter gets painted all shades of metaphorical, and metaphorically, it was the harshest winter a motherfucker ever endured.
Beautiful, beautiful stuff, Duke.
4 - swingingpuss
The post was as pleasurable as a quick illict scatch on the arse ;-)
5 - Aaron, Duke De Mondo
Thank folks.
Temple - You rumbled me! I'm hoping to play the part of Dennis Quaid acting as The Duke.
Eric B - i have no idea where summer is goin to be takin a fella. someplace less internal, i'm hopin. who knows?
Mat - Thank you, man.
And Swingingpuss - That was EXACTLY my aim, in those very words ;)
6 - Eric Berlin
Man, I'd love to see an Inner Space sequel with The Duke in the lead role.
7 - Aaron, Duke De Mondo
haha Eric, i'm hoping you'll use your power for to get me into a room with dennis quaid. i can persuade him.
8 - Greg Smyth
It says "Look here, a ring. Where's yours? Oh, sorry, forgot. If You See Her, Say Hello�"
Perfect, man. Perfect.
9 - Bennett
Kinda held off reading this, just knowing that it was there for me, when the time was right, when I had the time. So now its 95 fucking degrees outside, and I go out there to cool down.
There's a puddle of sweat on the floor under my chair, cause reading The Duke while eating hot shrimp soup in 110 degrees of humidity (the darkened room doesn't make it cooler you know) tends to make rivers and oceans run from all parts of my body.
But your words make me remember the cool breezes of Spring, annihilated by this brute of a Summer Sun that's baking my itchy feet in some kind of Inquisitorial torture.
But the memories you have me recall, memories of a time before the ground baked so hot that it cracked, those memories, they make me cooler for a while.
Thanks Duke.
10 - Aaron, Duke De Mondo
Greg and Bennett, thank you!
Greg - sometimes Bob says all there is to say about any given situation, alas...
Bennett, i'm glad you enjoyed it, man. i always feel guilty after flinging stuff this self-indulgent online, but if it keeps those puddles runnin (hah) then what harm can there be? scacely ANY, i'd wager