/lit/ - Literature

When it happened we walked through the estates of Manchester right to Newcastle. In Darlington, helped a large man on his own chase off some kids who were chucking bricks and stuff through his flat window. She had a way with people like that. He cursed us and we moved on.
Junior Choice played one morning: the song was English Scheme, one of mine. They'd changed it with a grand piano and turned it into a love song. How they did it I don't know. DJs had worsened since the rising, elaborating on nothing in praise of the track with words they could hardly pronounce in telephone voices.
I was mad and laughed at the same time. The West German Government had brought over large yellow trains on Teesside docks. In Edinburgh I stayed on my own a few days wandering about in the pissing rain before the Queen Mother hit town.
I'm Joe Totale! The yet unborn son! The North will rise again,
the North will rise again (not in 10,000 years). Too many people cower to criminals and government crap (the estates stick up like stacks). The North will rise again, the North will rise again, the North will rise again, the North will rise again (you are mistaken friend). Look where you are, look where you are: the future death of my father. (Shift!)
Tony was a business friend of RT XVII, and was an opportunist man. Come, come hear my story: how he set out to corrupt and destroy this future rising. Business friend came round today: with teeth clenched he grabbed my neck. I threw him to the ground, his blue shirt stained red. The north will rise again: he said you are mistaken, friend. I kicked him out of home. Too many people cower to criminals and government pap, when all it takes is hard slap.
Out the window burned the roads: men with besom sticks, the Fall had made them sick. A man with butterflies on his face! His brother threw acid in his face (his tattoos were screwed). The streets of Soho did reverberate with drunken Highland men (revenge for Culloden dead). The North had rose again, but it would turn out wrong. The North will rise again.
So Totale dwelt underground, away from sickly blind with ostrich head-dress: face a mess, covered in feathers, orange-red with blue-black lines that draped down to his chest (body a tentacle mess and light blue plant-heads). TV showed Sam Chippendale (no conception of what he'd made): the Arndale had been razed, shop staff knocked off their ladders, security guards hung from moving escalators.
And now that is said Tony seized the control. He built his base in Edinburgh: had on his hotel wall a hooded friar on a tractor. He took a bluey and he called Totale, who said: "The North has rose again, but it will turn out wrong. When I was in cabaret I vowed to defend all of the English clergy, though they have done wrong. And now the Fall has begun! This has got out of hand. I will go for foreign aid."
But Tony, laughed down the phone: "Totale go back to bed. The North has rose today, and you can stuff your aid! And you can stuff your aid!"

>>9355419

Mark E Smith

"The mad kid walked left-side south side towards me – he was about seven. His mother was a cleaning lady; she had a large black dog. And the mad kid said: 'Gimme the lead, gimme the lead, GIMME THE LEAD!' I'd just walked past the alcoholics dryout house... The lawn was littered with cans of Barbican. There was a feminist's Austin Maxi parked outside, with anti-nicotine anti-nuclear stickers on the side. The boys on the inside said 'give me a smoke'... Anyway two weeks before the mad kid had said to me 'I'll take both of you on! I'll take both of you on!' Then he seemed the young one. He had a parka on and a black cardboard Archbishop's hat, with a green-fuzz skull and crossbones – he'd just got back from the backward kids' party. Anyway then he seemed the young one, but now he looked like the victim of a pogrom."

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