The Man, The Lush and The Maestro

I was sitting on a bench in the sun in Soho Square reading a book about cowboys when I hear fucking sit down you old fucking cunt and stop walking off. So I turn around and there's a man about early thirties wearing tracksuit bottoms and a t-shirt with a bit of orange Hare Hare cloth wrapped around it and filthy bare feet and he's shoving this bow legged old lush along in front of him. The man must be in his seventies and he's wearing black trousers and a white shirt and a black waistcoat. His hair is grey and curly and a cigarette hangs from his lip. He looks like a french cartoon. He's also barefoot and is stumbling forward as the other man shoves him shouting at him you fucking old cunt sit down on that cloth there and fucking shut up and stop being a cunt you old fucking prick don't knock over the wine. He pushes him down onto a blanket that's laid out on the grass. It has a tub of coleslaw and potato salad on it and some hummus. He puts a cloth over and around him put this on you fucking old cunt and he tweaks the fag end in his fingers and hands him the bottle of wine and says right there's your cigarette there's your wine now fucking sit there and shut up and fucking stop being such a prick you fucking cunt bastard. The old man slurs a mumble and the man shouts just shut the fuck up and gobs of spit rappel from his lips on strings and he says maybe if you sit there and stop acting like such a fucking prick five-year-old fucking cunt things will come to you you fucking wanker. You fucking old fucking child cunt. And he walks off.

I go back to my book. Thirty seconds later there's an almighty sit the fuck down yelled from across the square and as I look the old man has started to stand up. The man comes over and pushes him back down and wraps the cloth back around him and calls him a cunt again and says you fucking sit there you cunt fucking asshole you're supposed to be a fucking holy man so fucking act like it and sit there and give off good vibes and stop acting like a fucking prick and the old man asks for more wine and the man says shut the fuck up and sit there and maybe the fucking things you want will come to you so stop wandering off like some old fucking cunt you're a fucking holy man you're supposed to be attracting people into the square with good vibes and fucking good fucking positive energy you're not supposed to be a fucking repellant disgusting old prick wandering around alright do you fucking understand me do you fucking understand and the old man sort of nods and the man says good now shut the fuck up. Then he stands up and starts doing roundhouse kicks and going hurgh and oosh everytime he does one then he wanders off.

The old man eats a bit of bread dipped in coleslaw and stares into space. Then he starts playing those little Krishna cymbals, tapping them together on their string. Then he lies down for a bit. Then he gets up and immediately there's a fucking sit the fuck down screamed at him and the man comes back over and pushes him down and says stop acting like a fucking queer.

Fucking sit the fuck down you old cunt and stop being a fucking homosexual five-year-old prick you fucking fag. You're a holy man not a fucking queer so stop wandering off like a gay and start giving off good vibes to the people in the park you fucking total cunt. You're a rainbow so be a fucking rainbow you cunt. Prick. He steps away, turns to leave, turns back and says fucking asshole. Then he turns to leave again, turns back and says prick. Then a guy turns up with a guitar and a beard and the man says heyo the maestro is here, yes! And he puts his arm around him to greet him. The maestro and the man both sit down and the old man lies down in a foetal position and closes his eyes and the cigarette falls from his fingers and smoulders on the grass in front of his face.

The maestro can play. He is deftly fingerpicking and strumming some kind of improvised post-punk funk. Riffing. His right hand is funky. The man is watching rocking back and forth and there is something visibly welling up inside him and his face turns red as he watches his maestro play and then he bursts and unleashes a tirade of abuse towards society, towards the old man and - especially - towards homosexuals. His lyrical ability is fantastic. He is always on time, his syntax never breaks, his rhyme structure is solid, unfaltering, offbeat but always on point. His belief in his message is absolute.

You old prick I'm messianic
Fucking godlike don't panic
You sit there drones and clones
I exist a myth like Jesus bones
Don't need to keep up with the Jones
fucking society needs to pull its head out of its arse
You ain't got no wife
You ain't got no life
You homosexual faggots
Are fucked for life


It's breathtaking.