New Year's Eve, St Clement's

Al and I were standing at a bus stop in St Clement's heading to some posh do when a guy came up and started chatting boisterously; and 2 + 2 made about 83. It's all true. Honest...

New Year's Eve, St Clement's

New Year’s Eve in St Clement’s, the clouds were scudding by
at a bus stop with my auntie, up to us there came a guy:
he said he lived in Risinghurst: Oxford born and bred,
“You’ll not see us very often, there are not so many left.”
His hair was slick his eyes were bright his Diesel jeans were clean.
All he wore cost someone money, white Pumas: his feet did gleam.
Blunt as an ADH kid with an asbo: “Smell my after shave,”
and waved his hands about his face, “That’s Jean Paul Gaultier”.
 
“Let’s take a car and do donuts in High St,
recapture my younger days,
I want to go downtown in my own town,
see what trouble I can raise.
And, then I’ll ram-raid Mother Care,
steal all the little teddy bears,
we’ll hang Winnie the Pooh from the rear view
as we peel out of there.”
 
Out beside the Ring Road in the tower we call home,
a baby on her hip her hand is reaching for the phone:
“Sheila have you heard the bastard’s high and going out,
he’s dumped me here on New Year’s Eve there isn’t any doubt.
Come and make me happy, I am far too gone to cry.
If we are here when he gets back there’s someone gona die.
I’m nearly out of cigarettes he’s drunken all the booze,
Little Jack won’t settle, I can’t find my fucking shoes.”
 
“Let’s take a car and do donuts in High St,
recapture my younger days,
I want to go downtown in my own town,
see what trouble I can raise.
And, then I’ll ram-raid Mother Care,
steal all the little teddy bears,
we’ll hang Winnie the Pooh from the rear view
as we peel out of there.”
 
It’s pissing down at five a.m. two hours until light,
we danced and sang and drank and kissed and smoked away the night,
walking home with blistered feet along the Cowley Road          
a fine low-ride snapped up beside, the under-car neon glowed.
The hooter ripped a battlecharge, the pumping bass was sweet,
they hit first, then grabbed reverse and spun it in the street:
“I told ya, mate, this town is great!” The motor split the air,
and hanging from the mirror was a yellow teddy bear.
 
“Let’s take a car and do donuts in High St,
recapture my younger days,
I want to go downtown in my own town,
see what trouble I can raise.
And, then I’ll ram-raid Mother Care,
steal all the little teddy bears,
we’ll hang Winnie the Pooh from the rear view
as we peel out of there.”
 
George Roberts
03 January 2007