Got the time, bruv?
Dispatches from the cuntline
The other day, Aerial Telly found himself browsing the aisles of Somerfield in the Birmingham suburb of Moseley. It is not his supermarket of choice. It is merely convenient for him, situated as it is a brief walk from his spectacular bachelor pad. So anyway, he’s there, minding his own beeswax, mind on higher things – television, betting, feature articles, the finest of pie – when a young herbert no more than 10 years old addresses him. Aerial Telly has a finely attuned chav filter which reduces such unsolicited greetings to background noise so he had to ask the herbert to repeat himself. “Got the time, bruv?” said the young fool. “Got. The. Time. Bruv?” responded Aerial Telly ““GOT. THE. TIME. BRUV??” Have you lost your fucking mind?”
“And what the fuck are you doing asking for the time anyway? You’re 10 years old. The only time you need to know is when it’s time to SHUT THE FUCK UP. That time begins NOW and never EVER ends”
“How dare you address the living embodiment of television thus? You vile little shitcake baker. Bruv? Let me be crystal clear. You are not Aerial Telly’s bruv. Aerial Telly already has brothers and friends who he loves like brothers. The only person you should be calling bruv is the dust-eating drool machine your mother shat out 8 1/2 months after you”
“Some important meeting requiring your presence no doubt? Got some glue sniffing scheduled?”
“And what the fuck are you doing asking for the time anyway? You’re 10 years old. The only time you need to know is when it’s time to SHUT THE FUCK UP. That time begins NOW and never EVER ends. What’s the time, indeed. Some important meeting requiring your presence no doubt? Got some glue sniffing scheduled?”
“Why, you little Balsall Heath piece of shit, let me tell you something. Aerial Telly has beaten men to death for lesser infringements. Go back home and pray to whatever God you pray to and thank him that you are still a minor. A prolonged fatal beating would otherwise surely follow”
“Aerial Telly wandered out into the dusk, punched a homeless unconscious with one shot, then urinated in his face, giving him unquiet dreams”
After a few moments of stunned, wobbly-lipped silence, the brat ran crying out of the supermarket to whatever hellhole from whence he came. He won’t be doing that again. Aerial Telly continued on his way meditating upon the generation gap, how times have changed and how he is happy to pass on his wisdom to the youth.
He wandered out into the dusk, punched a homeless unconscious with one shot, then urinated in his face, giving him unquiet dreams.
Imagined: 3rd July 2008