Govinda-jia-jia


Godiva is staying for the weekend. She is the best dancer I have ever seen. She looks like a flower child made of pollen and honey, glistening in the sun.

We went to see Dom’s band Death Rays last night. They were so good that I felt like a starstruck fan. ‘Notice me! Notice me’ I wanted to shout. The brilliant bastards.

If I could get a voice transplant and drink Brain Eno’s liquidised brain, I would love to be in a band. But I don’t think they do that on the NHS, and I’m not a fan of cannibalism. Next lifetime maybe? Either that or come back as an otter.. They seem to have a good time.

Here’s me and the missus last Summer in Norfolk:

I can’t stop listening to this Runaways cover by Dakota Fanning and Kristen Stewart. Esther won’t let me watch the film because it will make her feel old and ugly. It will make me feel old, ugly and sick with lust. I can’t wait.

My youth is dwindling. I will never be 15 again, and I’m glad, it was shitty.

We are lounging in bed watching Casualty. “Cup of tea” says Esther, giving me puppy dog eyes.

“If I make you a cup of tea, will you have sex with me?” I ask.

“No” she says. Worth a try.

I go and put the kettle on.

I’d like to leave you with this image: the sad fate of a flying elephant.