Home Contact Us Archive              
 

 

HAYDN

By Jimmy Tarbuck

I was never a friend of Haydn but unfortunately my dozy Geordie flat mate was. The bastard virtually moved in and turned our living room into a haze of skunk from dusk to dawn even when I was eating my Farmfoods Chicken Curry. He was a twat, a white bloke from Sheffield with dreadlocks, excessive facial piercings and a snarly gruff voice. I never quite got what he was studying as he never left our house but he turned my mate from a quiet Alnwick farmer’s son into a giggling perma-goon. To such an extent that he packed his course in and his jolly well-to-do parents turned up one day in disgust to find we’d been using an ASDA trolley as a bin in our kitchen which he’d carried home on his head one night, for a laugh of course.

There was one night however when I walked into our living room and the air was so pure you could smell the faint whiff of long expired Haze air freshener and Haydn was sat there looking glum.

‘What’s up pal?’ I asked

‘Had a nightmare,’ Haydn says, ‘My usual supplier let me down but gave me the name and number of this local lad who he said would sort me out. So I rang him up and arranged to meet him in me car. So I meets him and he gets in and tells me we need to go to his mate’s house to get the gear. So I drive him to his mate’s house, which is more of a block of flats, in a dogshit part of Nottingham, and he says ‘give us your money and wait here’.

‘Fuck off’ I said, ‘how do I know you’ll come back with the weed? I’ll give you the money when I’ve got it’

‘They won’t give me the gear unless I have the money to pay for it’

‘Well I’ll come with you then’ says Haydn

‘Sorry can’t do that, he won’t give me anything if he sees you. He doesn’t know you, y’see?’

‘Well leave me some money or something valuable while you go in, a watch or something’

‘No money, no watch’

He has got a big rucksack though – there must be something valuable in there thinks Haydn

‘Leave your rucksack then while you go in then’

The lad looks hesitant

‘I can’t just give you the money, I’ll never see you again!’

‘OK then keep the rucksack and give us the money’ and with that the lad gets out and heads towards the flats.

‘So I waited ten, twenty minutes, going on for half an hour and no sign of him returning with me smoke’

At that point I notice a rucksack down the side of our couch....

‘So I opened the rucksack’, which Haydn pulls out in front of me:

‘A towel, a travel iron and a pair of socks’

‘The fucking bastard!’ we both mutter.

 

 


 


 

 

Home | Archive | Contact Us

Copyright © 2007 Swine Magazine.   All rights reserved.