Beck: Devil’s Haircut

(being mobiled)

 

A: Just read what you wrote about us. You ok about what I said. Bit worried.

H: My blog is like twitter. Instant online text or whatever. Instant reply. But, I’m fine.

A: Not blog. Fall On Me, it’s called.

H: Good girl. Impressed as always.

A: I do like your blog, you take the piss out of yourself all the time and embarrass yourself and …

H: Stop right there. You know I do that on purpose, right? In the blogging community, it’s an unheard of commodity called honesty. And whatever you were gonna say, I was not gonna be impressed with it.

A: (giggle) Full of yourself. As always. That’s why I like you.

H: Correction. Love me.

A: I could do. Who are The Stranglers?

H: They did this one song called “Golden Brown” which is amazing and their singer published a book trying to explain his lyrics and that seems so wrong to me, so big-headed, and I love you, and miss you and marry me. Please marry me.

A: I can’t wait for you to get another girlfriend. Give me some peace.

H: You could just say “no”.

A: I know.

H: That daily porn link you sent me, is awesome.

A: Got it from Boy. Glad you like it. Knew it would tickle your fancy.

H: Tickle your fancy? That’s like language from the 70’s.

A: Whatever. Talked to Rachel recently?

H: No way!

A: (giggle)

H: (giggle)

A: I do think you need someone like, professionally.

H: Of course you do. (laughs out, indeed, very loud)

A: (does the same)

H: What about a prostitute who provides both GFE and PSE experience?

A: By the way, you need a haircut.

H: I know. Do you know Beck?

A: No doubt a band again.

H: Sorry. When is Boy coming home from work?

A: Any moment now.

H: Will he shag you?

A: Hope so. But who knows?

H: If he doesn’t and falls asleep. Call a taxi.

A: No need, I’ve got my turnips.

H: I am sooooo gonna use that on my blog.

A: I know.

 

 

.

The Stranglers: Skin Deep (Pt.3)

Funny. 

How you get yourself involved in dating.

Wrongly. 

Thinking.

That.

It may spice up your life.

Your blog.

Only.

To find out.

That.

Simply.

Taking a cup of tea.

In the morning.

To A.

Having a conversation with her.

In the spare bedroom.

See her smile.

Then.

Hear her complain.

About her hangover.

About the unwashed state of my spare bedroom guest’s duvet.

Its smell.

 

Of.

Life in general.

 

It gets as spiced up as you possibly want it to be.

 

Complaining. 

And.

Her smiling.

About.

My blog.

About.

Me.

 

Only.

 

For me. 

To. 

Make.

 

The casual remark.

To. 

Remark. Casually.

 

H: (So sorry. But. Too easy not to. Like a tap-in in football.) My own duvet covers were washed last week, but you didn’t want to, did you? Got all moral on me. Insisted on sleeping in the spare bedroom.

A: Whatever. Got anything for breakfast?

H: Hot Cross Buns in the oven, it’s nearly Easter and all that (big grin) … butter or Nutella?

A: Butter, of course. (big grin) You and your foreign tastes, Nutella (pulls her nose).

H: Still don’t get how you cannot like Nutella (pull my nose).

…

H: My blog? I have deliberately toned it down, luv.

A: Why? You think me and Boy can’t take it?

H: Boy and you.

A: What?

H: Told you this before, don’t use “me” or “I” first in a sentence. It makes me twitch.

A: Fuck off.

H: I would have never given my blog’s link to Boy if I had thought he couldn’t take it. 

A: And you hoped he would show it to me, right?

H: Kind of.

A: Husten, honestly …

H: So, you don’t give one …

A: Not one flying fuck.

H: I have always tried to make you look good on there.

A: But why?

H: I am embarrassed about it.

A: You are embarrassed about me?

H: I didn’t say that. I said … 

A: Husten, I don’t care, you have, like your friends reading this and …

H: But are you not worried that when you meet my friends …

A: For all I care they know that I fancy Zach Braff.

H: Who? 

A: He’s the main character in Scrubs.

H: No way! He who plays that idiot character who has this all American moral message at the end of each episode, voice-over and all?

A: Yes. We have seen many episodes together and you even managed to laugh now and then, although you slag it off all the time. Braff is gorgeous.

H: Whatever …

A: Ok. Reality check. This is how your brain works.

H: You are gonna insult me … 

A: In your brain …  say, you post I like masturbating with turnips …

H: What???

A: As an example. And yes I have, big deal. It’s the shape.

H: It is for me. A massive deal. This is news to me.

A: Peel them first obviously, no batteries needed either.

H: I’m getting an erection.

A: You already had one. The point is, I don’t give one flying fuck, Husten.

H:

A: What you do on your blog …

H: Fall On Me, it’s called.

A: I can see you are struggling with this, but I don’t give one …

H: You must do.

A: You can be a lovely guy. Well, if you’re not pissed or depressed or into this new unsigned band you suddenly find out of the blue and force me to …

 

And so it went on.

Funny.

 

 

.

The Stranglers: Strange Little Girl (Pt.2)

A: Where are you?

H: At home.

A: Happy?

H: Where are you?

A: My room.

H: You know I saw a programme today about liver transplants and they featured this bloke who said he drunk a bottle of wine every night for like five years?

A: Only a bottle?

H: Exactly. And the point is …. They tried to create an argument whether an alcoholic should be entitled to a … 

A: I wanna come over.

H: Boy …

A: I told him.

H: I am too drunk to think this through. To do anything.

A: Do you want me to take a taxi or not?

H: Of course.

H: Before you get here, I’m gonna post our conversation. And Boy will read …

A: You do whatever you have to do.

 

 

.

The Stranglers: Skin Deep (Pt.2)

H: Nice house. Like what you did to the fireplace.

X: Thanks. Love your long hair. Help yourself to the free and usual.

…

H: Buddy, this is not my scene. 

J: Relax. 

H: Did she just come on to me?

J: She was being a host. And shut it. Her husband is right over there.

H: Easy for you. You know all these people.

…

X: What was your name again?

Y: How do you know James?

Z: Who invited you?

H: Just random, you know, visited Durham Cathedral today and bumped into people that James knew and then they invited us and well, here I am.

X: Love your accent.

Y: Very sexy. Not sure of his nose tho.

Z: Are you single?

X + Y + Z: (laugh)

H: Sorry, need to make a phone call.

…

H: I need saving.

A: Where are you?

H: Some party somewhere in Durham where James took me to.

A: You don’t sound too pleased.

H: That thing just happened to me, you know when middle-aged women into porn try to be all sexual and do that thing they see on …  oh fuck it.

A: They were coming on to you?

H: They would have me like to think so. You know, that kind of party. I need to get out. And I can’t. Have drank too much to drive.

A: What is James doing?

H: Being his charming self, working the room, talking about Bede.

A: Who?

H: Who fucking cares? I’ve got women here whom I wouldn’t touch with my bargepole while unconscious.

A: Ooh. Do you know what Husten?

H: You are gonna (she hangs up) hang up?

…

X: Hi. What are you doing here all by yourself?

H: Looking at your swimming pool.

X: You want to jump in with me?

H: Many a people have drowned in them things, haven’t they?

X: The Continental Philosopher. So cute. You are Dutch, aren’t you?

H: What about your husband?

X: Gonna quote van der Heijden to me?

H: The times, toothless times, that I could be enticed in bed with literary talk are so far long gone. I just don’t want any scenes.

X: It’s fine. He’s busy fucking his students.

 

 

 

.

The Stranglers: Strange Little Girl

Strange little things, aren’t they?

Bookshops.

 

Almost banned to exclusive places like London.

 

What is this world coming to?

What is the North East coming to?

 

Been hunting for weeks for a book called “Inverting The Pyramid” by Jonathan Wilson. Finally, a book that demystifies football tactics. Got good write-ups.

Now.

Of course, I could buy this on Amazon.

Thing is tho.

And this applies to any book.

Wouldn’t you wanna feel it first? Find out how it smells. Even go as far as having a peep inside and confirm that “indeed, it certainly looks as good as the critics wrote”?

 

Bookshops, or indeed what is/are left of them (read Waterstone’s), have become so incredibly, mind-blowingly crap.

 

Even went to Durham today.

A place of academic excellence.

To try and find its feel. 

Wasn’t there.

 

James came with me. James and I are quite close. Which is an understatement. Love him to bits. The type of bloke that if he and me were gay or bisexual would make my ideal boyfriend. His girlfriend (who reads this) is a very lucky lass. Luckily, she knows it too. Having said that. James is a lucky boy too to have her as a girlfriend.

Now, being of a far inferior upbringing than me, being of belonging to a sociological class commonly and constantly misused/abused/misquoted called working class, I took him to Durham Cathedral. I mean, he thinks that “Strange Little Girl” is better than “Golden Brown”.

 

So.

Anyway.

 

Showed him the tombstone of the Venerable Bede.

 

He didn’t dare to for the next five minutes.

But.

Then.

As expected, coz he never fails.

It came out.

 

J: Husten?

H: Yeah?

J: Husten, who is Bede?

H: Sorry, buddy, did you just ask me something?

J: (laughing embarrasingly)

H: Surely James, you did not ask me, inside Durham Cathedral who Bede is?

J: …

H: (he who knows fuck all about Bede) Buddy, seen his massive tomb? In this beautiful place? And you are from the North East? And you don’t know Bede?

J: What did he do?

H: He was a saint and an author. A while ago.

J: Was he any good?

H: You cannot ask me that. Inside Durham Cathedral. Like that is so wrong on so many levels.

J: Why?

H: Well, in them days, for one, they didn’t release albums.

…

J: Where are we going now?

H: Gonna show you the shrine of St. Cuthbert. There’s a statue there of him holding his own head on his left arm. 

J:

H: Don’t ask me why, it’s what us, middle-class, university-educated arseholes visit to keep ourselves entertained. So are these fucking tourists, so it seems.

J: This is fun. Thanks, Husten.

H: Born to entertain.

 

 

 

 

 

The Stranglers: Skin Deep

Anyway.

Fuck this “Thank you” business coz you readers can all go and fuck yourselves.

Back to business.

 

This time. Not A. But someone whose name also starts with an H. Featured briefly on Fall On Me before. Gonna call her Rachel. 

 

H: Give it to me, babe.

R: Honestly Husten, ever thought you may be suffering from some mental illness?

H: Probably am. Don’t wanna be treated tho.

R: Like when you wanted us all to eat an ice-cream and insisted we could only choose the vanilla flavour? Like six months ago? Remember?

H: Did I hear you or your friends complain? The vanilla …

R: It’s what you call “that English thing”. We were being polite.

H: So?

R: We were scared. And. It was freakish.

H: We have done things, sexually, that were freakish. And you …

R: Always sex is it, with you? And power games. So fucking boring, Husten. And worrying.

H: But …

R: And that Catholic thing, you’ve got going, you need to see a therapist.

H: You think I’m bi-polar?

R: Don’t know what your condition is.

H: I am good in bed tho, aren’t I?

R: Husten, please, go see someone, professionally.

 

…

 

H: Rachel …  She that you think can analyse people to a T?

A: Rachel is lovely and so honest.

H: No kidding. Got it in the neck from her today. Big style.

A: I can guess.

H: She thinks I need to see a psychiatrist.

A: I do.

H: Yeah, big deal, of course you do. But seriously.

A: She’ll never forgive you for shagging her when she was unconscious.

H: Why did Boy ever tell her? Nobody could have known and everyone would have been happy.

A: Boy said you were almost frothing at the mouth.

H: I was. He was watching though. And liking it. Almost frothing. And that’s your boyfriend we are talking about.

A: Rachel likes you. No matter what you say and do.

H: Oh, I know. Easy. Too easy.

A: Though not using a condom, that is both sick and mad.

H: I sucked my own cum out tho, as best as I could. Anyway. Rachel wouldn’t have known.

A: (giggle) As I said, sick and mad.

H: Boy fallen asleep yet?

A: Hours ago.

H: (giggle) You wanna hear that French song, don’t you?

A: Avant la lettre.

H: Well done! Impressed as always.

A: I don’t like the way you portray myself on your blog, but as Boy said, it is not really you.

H: It is.

A: I know.

 

 

 

 

Philippe Cataldo: Les Divas Du Dancing (Pt.2 (Not Long Overdue At All))

I realise that my previous four entries should have been bundled together under the header of “A Day in the Life of V M Husten”.

And yes, my favourite word is “just”. And “but”. And “and”.

 

He that prides himself to be V M Husten, he that fills these posts of Fall On Me is back. Arnie style.

 

Fuck me, is he back.

 

When he had finally managed to build up a respectable number of readers, loyal readers he prided himself of, just before Christmas when hits where a bit too high even for his proud-full-of-himself-liking, he threw it all overboard, didn’t he? Stopped posting and the readers left. Stopped drinking too. And then Fall On Me nearly left him.

 

But.

A couple of break-ups. A couple of bottles of wine. A couple of conversations with a still more than willing A.

 

And.

Look what happens.

 

A couple of posts in one day.

And.

 

Look what happens.

Blog statistics.

 

Fuck me, are you readers back.

And.

Thank you. You strange, you weird, faithful people you.

(Why? Why oh why? Having said that he doesn’t wanna know) 

 

If he dies (and he will) of liver cancer, he is sooo gonna sue every single one of yous.

 

Just.

Born to entertain.

 

But.

And.

 

In case you hadn’t noticed.

 

He that prides himself to be V M Husten.

He that prides himself to have gained quite a collection of weird, strange, faithful (why?) readers.

 

Well.

 

He is back.

 

Arnie style.

 

And.

But.

Just.

 

Thank you!

 

 

 

Snow Patrol: Shut Your Eyes

(my mobile ringing Boy)

 

Boy: What?

H: Pass me A, will you?

B: She is fast asleep.

H: Now really? Well, wake her up then, please?

B: You sound pissed.

H: Just fucking wake her up.

…

H: Well?

B: It is difficult, I’m trying.

H: She is pretending, shove at least two fingers up her arse. Unlubricated.

B: That is gonna hurt.

H: Bless! It’ll wake her up, trust me.

…

A: Aowww!

…

A: Boy just put two fingers up my arse.

H: Haha, as if. Now, so far for the Shakespeare, albeit very convincing.

A: (giggling) What do you want this time?

H: I have decided.

A: What?

H: Not gonna attend Boy’s BBQ.

A: …

H: (giggling) You are not gonna ask why?

…

A: Why are you not here? With us?

H: Dunno.

A: …

H: Would you want me to be there?

A: Dunno.

 

 

 

 

 

Philippe Cataldo: Les Divas Du Dancing

(danse)

 

(a couple of hours later)

 

H: Come on, you love this song.

(Va tanguer sur le parquet ciré)

 

A: Husten …

(Les violons ça fait rêver)

 

H: I know you want to.

(Les yeux dans les yeux fais les tourner et fais-toi désirer)

 

A: Fuck off.

(Les divas du dancing, les divas du dancing, les cinglées du mambo)

 

H: Why don’t you hang up?

(Corps sérés cœurs glacés, elles gardent de toi un peu de gomina, sur le bout de leurs doigts, quand elles ont caressé, cette nuque bleue qu’elles aiment embrasser, les divas du dancing, les divas du dancing)

 

A: You are an arsehole, avant la lettre.

H: I taught you that phrase. Try and pronounce the “r” and not the “nt”.

A: And suddenly he is single again, and suddenly I have to cope with it all over again.

H: Call it “obsessive”. Call it “stalker-ish”. Call it “I care for you”.

A: Call it “you want to shag me”.

H: Funny, now you mention it.

 

(danse)

 

 

 

 

 

Madonna: Hung Up (Pt.2 (Long Overdue))

H: Not happy.

A: Why?

H: Went on a date today, and I got slaughtered.

A: So you call me?

H: I’m not full of myself, am I?

A: You are so pathetic.

H: Thanks. That helped.

A: You’re welcome.

…

A: Boy is organising a BBQ this weekend if the weather keeps on being like it is now. He wants you to come.

H: You made him forgive me?

A: He said he was gonna give you a call.

H: What if the weather …

A: Shut it, you are gonna get a phone call from Boy.

H: A, only you can cheer me up like this. Got even tears in my eyes.

A: You are so pathetic.

H: Thanks. Really helped.

A: More than welcome.