tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60488062011-04-22T02:11:21.420+01:00Email the author at marshalgray@aol.comJohnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comBlogger841100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1136632903676996722006-01-07T11:17:00.000Z2006-01-07T11:21:43.686Z

So that's me back in blighty then. Nothing much has changed as far as i can tell. Everyone's still fucking moaning. I'm stopping with me mum and dad for a while till i suss things out on the old neighbour front, i.e. is anybody talking to me yet. Am i forgiven and all that? It's not like i actually killed them on purpose isit? Just a series of unfortunate events. Accidents. Still. People round

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1113553245620058452005-04-15T09:06:00.000+01:002005-04-15T09:20:45.620+01:00

working in a bar. benidorm. sun sea and sangria. i love it out here. the owner, stan, a ringer for chas out of chas & dave. Or it might be dave he looks like. i can't tell the difference. he's an old mate of me dads from years back. i've got him to invest in a kareoke machine and we do 3 evenings a week. i love it. i generally get the ball rolling with a few numbers while people build up the

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1109236587646744492005-02-24T09:12:00.000Z2005-02-24T11:33:59.563Z

Red Rick's had it away on his toes, gone and formed his own band, without lee, so that's just me and Lee at the squat. I knew Lee was totally put out by this when he woke me up this morning at Nine fucking AM. (this is pretty much the middle of the night as far as Lee's sleepy patterns are usually concerned). So he wakes me up and then proceeds to let me know in no uncertain terms that he is

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1108495816050338752005-02-15T19:24:00.000Z2005-02-15T19:38:47.886Z

you know when you've hit rock bottom when souness turns up at the squat you're squatting in and starts giving you feedback on the state of your life. i mean, this is coming from a bloke with serious problems of his own know what i mean. between you and me i don't see much of a reason for carrying on this charade of a fucking life i'm living. depressed his a word i used to use when talking about

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1105113215552022782005-01-07T15:43:00.000Z2005-01-07T15:53:35.553Z

talk about a face from the fucking past. i run into an old mate today. Stevey MacHinton, aka bruiser. we were like crocket and fucking tubbs in the old days. it was a bit embarrasing actually. we were both at the traffic lights in leytonstone high road. he was in white transit van with MacHinton and Son builders emblazoned on the side. I was standing on the pavement with a bucket and a shammy

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1105003983755019652005-01-06T09:27:00.000Z2005-01-07T15:42:49.240Z

It's a long time since I've written anything here on account of I've been busy. Sort of finding myself really. Starting afresh after the miserable time I had of it last year. A year of aggro, one sorrowful even after another, being constantly let down by mates and shat on by family members. I've ditched all my old mates which is handy to be fair as none of them want to speak to me anymore. I've

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1099301365936155832004-11-01T09:17:00.000Z2004-11-01T09:29:25.936Z

sorry i haven't written anything for a while. but I've been having a bad few weeks. my uncle stan fell out of the cradle to his untimely death. it happened the week before last. we were working on that new office contract and were up about 9 floors. we were about to start cleaning the windows when all of a sudden the rope on my side slipped. The cradle dropped on my side and thinking on my feet

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1098365735833449352004-10-21T14:30:00.000+01:002004-10-22T08:50:31.246+01:00

first day up in the old cradle with stan. i shit myself at first i don't mind telling ya. it's one of them old creaking wooden efforts with ropes and jinny wheels. you pull on your rope and your mate's side of the cradle starts up and vice-versa. it goes without saying (if you're not stuck for a brain) that it requires both of you to pull on your ropes simultaneously. that way you move up the

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1098365422342250082004-10-14T14:27:00.000+01:002004-10-21T14:43:07.390+01:00

Uncle stan's coming back to work tommorow. He's got us a new contract cleaning the windows of an office block in wapping. we start it next week My apprentice Charlie's gone for good. he never bothered chatting up Uncle Stan about getting his job back after I sacked him. 2 days sat at home doing fuck all he decides that is the life for him. He's now back scrounging off the social like all the

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1097582182649816662004-10-11T18:54:00.000+01:002004-10-12T12:56:22.650+01:00

At the funeral … things went from bad to worse. There were six of us carrying the coffin. Me, carl, mark, John, Lamps and Clive (Fraser's brother). Souness was on the subs-bench … just in case. Our instructions were simple; lift the coffin off of the hearse, walk it slowly into the crematorium and plonk it down on the old catafalque ready for the big off. It was just as we reached the entrance

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1097492738235151272004-10-11T13:04:00.000+01:002004-10-12T12:56:47.493+01:00

Fraser’s only gone and fucking died. Last week it happened. It’s his funeral today. His mum found him on the floor in his bedroom. Apparently he’d tripped on a rug and broken his neck. What a way to go. You survive 8 days at sea without food or water and you end up dying an idiots death. It’s typical of my friends. Mark phoned me last night. He said he’d just spoke to Fraser’s parents and they

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1097235511337665022004-10-07T13:37:00.000+01:002004-10-08T12:38:31.336+01:00

Oh I am a window cleaner A decent honest man With my ladder on my shoulder And my shammy in my hand. Back on the round then ... Uncle Stan’s loving it. He’s still off sick. Stringing it out if you want my opinion on the matter. He’s got me an apprentice called Charlie who is a nephew on his wife’s side. Another berk to add to my collection. Charlie’s a movie nut, keeps quoting scenes from his

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1097050705451100962004-10-06T09:01:00.000+01:002004-10-06T11:51:33.236+01:00

we arrived back in england a few days ago. the flight back was dreadful on account of an air-rage incident involving one of the passengers. me. I'd hit the vodka the moment we got to the airport and by the time I got on the plane I was wholeheartedly cabbaged. still, i would have been fine if it hadn't of been for old cheerless mark giving me filthy looks at every given opportunity. i tried

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1096885942927276862004-09-27T11:21:00.000+01:002004-10-04T11:34:38.606+01:00

The coast guard found him yesterday two miles off the coast of Ibiza. The poor sod had drifted 62 miles before they caught up with him. He was in a bit of a state apparently, suffering from 3rd degree burns and shock. He had a touch of the old starvation too on account of not having anything to eat for 8 days. He’d had nothing to drink either which only added to his troubles. He should be dead

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1096557155893163012004-09-19T13:11:00.000+01:002004-09-30T16:13:27.606+01:00

Fraser’s mum and dad got here about midday. Fraser’s brother Clive was with ‘em. Clive is a bald version of Fraser. He’s never had any luck on the hair front Clive. He was born ginger which is always annoying but then to top it all he went completely bald at the age of 22 the poor sod. It’s like … fucking hell … leave me alone. It was obvious to me straight away that Clive was here on a freeman’

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1096458952527477762004-09-19T10:05:00.000+01:002004-09-29T12:55:52.526+01:00

Fraser's mum and and Dad are on their way over this morning. i phoned them last night. In fact they'll probably be here any minute. I told them to hold off for a bit but they weren't having any of it. They blame me I can tell. I shouldn't have phoned them really, but I was pissed up, got a bit emotional and that, saw the phone in the reception at the hotel, and before I knew it I was dialing the

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1095936585365559102004-09-18T20:49:00.000+01:002004-09-27T09:17:36.270+01:00

House of Fraser vanished today. Lost at sea. I blame myself which is hardly surprising seeing as it was my fault. We had a few liveners this morning in ‘the Scotsman bar’ (renowned in benidorm for its huge collection of signed Jockey Wilson photographs) and then headed off to the beach for a siesta before tonight’s fun and games. Fraser went off to the shop and I was the only one awake when he

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1095929235184549492004-09-18T09:36:00.000+01:002004-09-27T09:16:57.453+01:00

Just went for something to eat in the cantina. What a shit-hole. I might as well have been having breakfast in Alcatraz. There was a hundred or so punters in there, mulling over plates of paella, Yes ... paella for breakfast. I had porridge. (to keep in the spirit of the place). I've never tasted food like it. The thing is i can't afford to eat anywhere else. I've only got about £350 and that's

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1095774055097113432004-09-17T19:40:00.000+01:002004-09-27T09:12:48.713+01:00

Bring to mind the worst place you've ever been to in your life. Got it? Good. Because I’d just like to set the scene a little by saying that the place you’re thinking of is paradise compared to the Hotel Orange in Benidorm. I slept during the flight out. I always do. I hate flying. I hate being off the ground for any length of time at all to be fair. I don’t even like going upstairs at home.

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1095416548909174792004-09-17T10:56:00.000+01:002004-09-17T15:49:16.663+01:00

Today's the day then. Benidorm here we come. Lock up your daughters that's what I say. I'm meeting the lads in an hour at the station. It's my first holiday for years. Stan's still got the arsehole because of the windows and that but i could not give a sterling fucking moss. He should count himself lucky he can still breathe after a fall like that. You'd think he'd be savouring every minute of

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1095341598835069472004-09-16T14:29:00.000+01:002004-09-16T14:33:18.836+01:00

We're all of to benidorm for a fortnight. Have it! Me, Mark, Carl, John, House of Fraser, Souness and Lamps. We had to let that dummy head souness come on account of it's his sister who got us the cheapo flights. She works for some travel agent in hubcap-land and she's sorted us out tickets at £50 sovs a pop each return. Which can't be bad. The only thing is we have to get the flight from John

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1095087360273249132004-09-13T15:53:00.000+01:002004-09-14T11:16:47.093+01:00

My Uncle Stan's in hospital. Fell 2 floors on to solid concrete. I blame myself. Which is not surprising seeing as it was me that pulled the ladder away. It was just meant to be a joke though, a practical joke, but it backfired on me. They do sometimes practical jokes. I'm gutted though. But he's going to be alright so there's no major harm done. That's what the quack said anyway. Uncle Stan

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1094823911442002002004-09-10T14:44:00.000+01:002004-09-10T14:45:11.443+01:00

i#m as pised and afufcking cunt. the lunchtime blues whey hey. now arh im,ean. whey heyyyyyyyyyyy! leth em fuckign ehavit. it's not as bad as it loks mind. i jthnk this will look good tommorwo ehtn i'm sober all fu kin gartistic and tgat. narti imean. whjeyyyyyyyyyyy hey!

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1094650805714978452004-09-08T14:39:00.000+01:002004-09-09T09:32:09.756+01:00

me mate mark (the depressed one) has now got his own blog. copying me really, to be fair, but I'm all for sharing so here's a link to it http://markduggan.blogspot.com

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1094632498910093982004-09-08T09:19:00.000+01:002004-09-08T19:30:14.350+01:00

this window cleaning lark's alright. i can see it being a bit of a killer in winter mind. stan's a funny old sod. keeps repeating himself all the time. i think he's short terms memory is going though. still, he's a demon with a shammy leather. and he's runs up and down them ladders like a demented chimp. he's fucking fearless. where i'll do a window up top and have to come down and move my ladder

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1094483022133897002004-09-06T15:51:00.000+01:002004-09-06T16:34:20.733+01:00

Is it me or are all my mates a french-frie short of a happy meal? I know I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed, I do, honestly, but just listen to this … i was bored shitless yesterday so I went and watched my mate dazza play football for his pub side. Now dazza's not your run of the mill idiot, he's more sort of subtly daft if you get my drift, or at least that was what I thought until yesterday

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1094464344504975532004-09-06T05:31:00.000+01:002004-09-06T10:52:24.503+01:00

I've got a start! window cleaning with my mums brother, uncle Stan. things are looking up. I start today. can't believe i'm up this early though, 5am. it's the middle of the night for fuck sake. stan's picking me up at 5:40. he's alright stan. in his late 50's. bit quiet, into himself and that, but he's alright. £30 a day cash in hand which can't be bad. I need to keep my head down for a bit,

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1094463317966506792004-09-05T20:26:00.000+01:002004-09-06T10:36:50.003+01:00

I'm back living with mum and dad. jesus, I've lived in more homes than Oliver Twist. Me sister and Graham have slung me out for digging up his mum. How the fuck was I to know they'd sprinkled her ashes under the apple tree in the back garden? [see short story link "groundforce" below for a full account of events]. The thing is ... I don't know how long I can live under the same roof as my old

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1094224547972307022004-09-03T16:15:00.000+01:002004-09-03T16:21:21.606+01:00

(spankin' new short story ... "Ground-Force"... click here)

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1093966098495436432004-08-31T16:27:00.000+01:002004-08-31T16:28:18.496+01:00

We have some great conversations us fellows. I just saw fraser in the chip-shop ... me: alright? fraser: yeah, you? me: yeah, not bad. fraser: good weekend? me: yeah it was alright. you? fraser: Yeah it was alright, yeah. me: short week this week. fraser: yeah. i keep forgetting it's tuesday today me: yeah, soon be friday. fraser: yeah. me: See ya. fraser: yeah, see ya. … and that was one of

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1093950479277515782004-08-31T12:05:00.000+01:002004-08-31T12:07:59.276+01:00

there was tons of carl's family at the party, people you only see at weddings and funerals, and only then if there's a free drink in it for 'em. All of 'em standing around telling each other lies about how good they think each other looks. And they don't. none of 'em. There wasn't one single person who looked 'good for their age'. Nobody ever tells the fucking truth. Why don't they just come out

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1093942944840026052004-08-31T09:51:00.000+01:002004-08-31T10:02:24.840+01:00

i went as clint eastwood. everyone kept coming up to me and doing john wayne impressions all fuckin' night long so i weren't happy. i felt a bit of a spud anyway as a lot of people had forked out top dollar for their costumes. i'd made me own as you know.I'd meant to spend a bit of time on it but i couldn't on account of i was out on the piss on saturday night. spent most of sunday in bed. woke

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1093616545791524432004-08-27T15:22:00.000+01:002004-08-27T15:22:25.790+01:00

it's a shame i'm not still friends with souness. i could borrow some of his clothes and go as a twat!

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1093600644878786512004-08-27T10:54:00.000+01:002004-08-27T10:57:24.876+01:00

I'm making me own costume no two ways about it. no way I'm forking out twenny sovs for a costume for that twonks party. It's typical of carl and his family to make things difficult for ya. Nothing is ever straightforward with that lot. Why does it have t' be a fancy dress do anyway that's what I want to know? they have to make a big fuss of everything the self important cunts. Grow up! It's not

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1093596604200044112004-08-27T09:38:00.000+01:002004-08-27T09:50:04.200+01:00

i've decided to go to this fancy dress do. i need a night out. and the bar's free which is a turn up where carl's lot are concerned. i've never known a man as tight as carl's dad. he only breathes in. souness hasn't been seen since you know what? which is lucky for him because he's due a kick-in as far as i'm concerned. i'm still coming to terms with that one. what's it all about? life i mean

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1093438846430530002004-08-25T13:56:00.000+01:002004-08-25T14:00:46.430+01:00

fancy dress shop in wapping want £22 fucking quid to hire a suit. it's a fucking take-on. someone's earning out of it. think i'll go as the invisible man and not turn up. see how they like that. sometimes i wonder why i have friends. I mean, they're just fucking aggro. i don't even like any of 'em much to be fair.

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1093438502077426182004-08-24T13:50:00.000+01:002004-08-25T13:56:46.866+01:00

carl's having a fancy dress do this week for his 34th. it's his mum & dad's idea. i fucking hate fancy dress. i'd rather just not go but you can't can ya, you'd never live it down with these cunts. jesus. who'd have my life. i hate it. it's constant fucking aggro!

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1092063168295826102004-08-09T15:52:00.000+01:002004-08-09T16:16:22.770+01:00

Q: Why does the River Mersey run through Liverpool? A: Because if it walked it would be mugged. Q: What do you say to a scouser on a bike? A: Stop Thief! Q: What do you call a scouser in a White Shellsuit ? A: The Bride Q: What's the difference between a Scouser and a coconut? A: One's thick and hairy, and the other's a coconut. Q. If you see a Scouser on a bicycle, why should you never

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1092063119153457182004-08-09T15:50:00.000+01:002004-08-09T16:17:28.036+01:00

scally (aka scouser or person from Liverpool) a low life loser who lacks the basic education to string together sentences of more than five words. This prevents them from taking up the only job they are qualified for as they cannot say "Do you want fries with that ?" a person who seems to be going jogging, until you see that they are weighed down by half thier parent's wages in gold. and

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1092046150612518992004-08-09T10:46:00.000+01:002004-08-09T16:15:40.916+01:00

Souness came to see me last night on his push-bike. (well, when I say "his bike" I’m speaking figuratively of course - souness is a scouser so it could be anyone’s bike). I open the door and the scally is in a right old state of it. it's bollocking it down with rain so his perm's springing about all over the gaff, his shell-suit is absolutely drenched and plastered to his skin and he's got the

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1091702024991037672004-08-05T11:32:00.000+01:002004-08-06T15:43:36.086+01:00

(A short story "Dog"... click here)

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1091611141912735142004-08-04T10:17:00.000+01:002004-08-04T14:37:36.256+01:00

Dazza came in the Grapes last night trying to flog us all this ugly little dog. i mean this thing had to be seen to be believed (that's why i nipped across to the shop a bit lively and got one of them cheapo cameras to take its picture). it was just the ugliest looking mutt i've ever seen in my life - a fucking freak of nature as far as i could tell: a cross between a poodle, that belonged to the

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-109143962881009632004-08-02T10:16:00.000+01:002004-08-09T15:19:45.863+01:00

the dagenham gig was bad. I'm struggling with writing this as I don't even want to think about it to be fair. I've quit the band, that goes without saying, I can't live with the embarrassment of it all. the 'shed's' are no more. Fraser didn't even argue with me. he knows disaster when it kicks him in the bollocks. he reckons he's going solo. i told him good luck buti his chances are slim to

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1091195649545468532004-07-30T14:44:00.000+01:002004-08-05T09:30:42.310+01:00

me and the band - 'the sheds" (don't ... it was fraser's idea) have got a gig tonight in Dagenham. i'm dreading it. totally fucking dreading it i am. the line-up for tonight’s performance is me as lead singer, 'house of fraser' on bass, souness on drums and some mate of carl's on guitar. it's the first time this new fellow's played with us which pretty much means it's the first time he's played

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1091134406177012462004-07-29T21:07:00.000+01:002004-07-30T09:22:47.583+01:00

... fishing or something. anything to relieve the boredom of life at my sisters. i mention this to her graham when he gets in from work and (as predictable as a straight fucking line) the ugly bastard says “wouldn’t you be better off getting a job?” i answered him with the look of utter contempt he deserved and went back to the watching 'big brother's little brother' on the telly. i'll have to

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1091013079841734812004-07-28T12:03:00.000+01:002004-07-28T12:13:28.036+01:00

i'm taking on staff it's time to spread the word, give the journal back to the people show 'em what they're missing my initial brief to myself was to keep 'marsh' low profile. a kind of guerilla website for urban poets like myself but as sometimes happens things have gotten out of hand ... hence ... the site has gone ballistic - taken on a life of its own ... alright ... i'm a lazy bastard

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1091011270114675422004-07-28T11:40:00.000+01:002004-07-28T11:47:12.866+01:00

graham reckons i should get a job. the cheek of it! you try to tap someone for a few quid and think they can start dishing out the old advice. who the fuck does he think he is? just because i'm living in your house for a few weeks don't think you own me. kick a man whilst he's fucking down why don't you. i'm fucking in the middle of a divorce mate. like you'd know what it's like. like you'd care.

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1091010595267307662004-07-28T11:29:00.000+01:002004-07-28T11:40:46.093+01:00

now that victor has been booted out of the big brother house my week nights have returned to their familiar 'waiting for friday to come round' normality. i just can't force myself to sit and watch the rest of them twats in there. all they do is comb there hair and say fucking chicken or chick every two minutes. chicken this and chicken fucking that. chicken bollocks. chicken stew! i wouldn't mind

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1091008144165551932004-07-28T10:47:00.000+01:002004-07-28T10:49:04.166+01:00

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz! fucked!

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1091003541614769152004-07-28T09:30:00.000+01:002004-07-28T10:38:11.726+01:00

the fucking leg-tapper has been spotted in scotland. i'm making enquiries and if it turns out he's there i'll be on the first train to jock-land. bastard. he still owes us money and if he thinks he's getting away with it he can think a-fucking-gain.

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1090832834956720452004-07-26T10:06:00.000+01:002004-07-28T10:34:33.046+01:00

fell of the fuckin night bus last night near the bow fly-over. foggy night all round really. thought of a good poem though which is something.

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1089887541868150282004-07-15T11:26:00.000+01:002004-07-28T10:35:25.033+01:00

i'm kipping round at my sisters house in chigwell. it's nice here, i like it, comfy. there's a huge living room with all the mods. dvd, stereo, playstation the lot. they said i can stay for a few nights but i reckon i could string it out a month if the need were to arise.

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1088708838419115132004-07-01T20:03:00.000+01:002004-07-28T10:35:40.913+01:00

i'd like to say the reason i've been away is because i'd been doing something interesting but i can't because i haven't. the only reason i've not been keeping this site updated is because i couldn't be fucked. i've been depressed. friends and that are getting me right fucking down for starters. it's like all they ever fucking do is moan about there lives. moan moan fuckity moan the whole time the

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1083227627763312442004-04-29T09:33:00.000+01:002004-07-28T10:35:54.970+01:00

i went for a drink with an old mate of mine, Tony, last night in soho. Hadn't seen him in years and he give me a call Tuesday out the blue. Met him at some poxy bar near Berwick Street. One of them poncey gaffs that don't sell pints - just bottled lager. straight away i'm thinking i'll give it 30 minutes then i'm fucking off to the grapes - there's a quiz on tonight as well. Tony's already

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1082967498687537432004-04-26T09:18:00.000+01:002004-07-28T10:36:26.273+01:00

the gig was a shambles. the audience were all old age fucking pensioners. i'd never seen so many of 'em in one place in my life. it was scary on stage - a sea of zimmer-frames and false-teeth. we did 20 mins and called it a day. we would have done the full hour but the manager told us he wanted to start the bingo early because half of the old codgers were falling asleep. he paid us up and we left

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1082626357967933872004-04-22T10:32:00.000+01:002004-07-28T10:36:40.836+01:00

the good news is we've got our first gig. well the first gig as a new line-up. i've insisted we change the name on account of we need a fresh start. fraser's not happy. he reckons the v-necks is a top name. i tell him he's got a point but don't keep on. we're changing it and that is that. he agrees. i've decided to go a little radical. we're to be called ... wait or it ... "the soap suds". "the

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1082625161599369092004-04-22T10:12:00.000+01:002004-04-22T10:30:20.686+01:00

spiky hair and all that i popped home last night - more to see john than the wife. he's enjoying himself the lad - unusually happy to be fair, which i must say riled me a bit. i mean he could have showed some indication that he was missing me not being there. anyone would think he was glad i'd fucked off. maybe he's got himself a bird. he's not a bad looking kid. takes after me there. whatever it

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1082447561720302492004-04-20T08:52:00.000+01:002004-04-20T09:16:38.530+01:00

lunchtime blues still no sign of lambert the thieving leg tapping bastard! we've had to down tools. not that we've got any tools: the cunt took them as well. i'm pouring all my energy into the band. i wish i could say the same for fraser. i think he thinks that he's going to be the song writer or something. he keeps coming up with these daft lyrics. i wish he'd stick to what he's good at. what

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-108238567167503142004-04-19T15:41:00.000+01:002004-04-20T08:55:31.076+01:00

grey found a grey hair this morning. the writing's on the wall. i'll have to dye it. there's no place for grey hair in rock & roll

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1082102097593961392004-04-16T08:54:00.000+01:002004-04-16T09:05:54.390+01:00

where's jimmy lambert? there's no sign of him. he meant to drop off our wages off yesterday evening. i went and saw the greek bloke (jimmy's boss), and he says he weighed the leg tapper out yesterday morning. i can't get him on his mobile either. bastard! sent him about 20 messages. the lads are doing their cobblers. we're all well skint. you can't trust anybody for fucks sake. auditions for

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1081843806610965472004-04-13T09:10:00.000+01:002004-04-13T09:14:01.390+01:00

i'm in the v-necks. wallop! lead singer. i told fraser they'll have to be some changes though. The bassist is too old though to be fair i think it was a relief to the old duffer when we told him he was out. the drummer was less pleased but the bloke's a danger to himself and everyone else so he's been sacked as well. reckons he's gonna sue. that only leaves me and fraser. so we're auditioning

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1081437565352738742004-04-09T16:19:00.000+01:002004-04-08T16:25:32.153+01:00

frasers band cousin fraser's just belled me on the mobile. wants me to audition for his band the 'v-necks'. says he's sacked the vocalist. most sensible thing he's ever done. auditions tommorow night round at me aunt pegs. should be a giggle.

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1081437153716167522004-04-08T16:12:00.000+01:002004-04-08T16:23:55.233+01:00

kipping at carl's kipping on carl's floor. his mum and dad are not to happy, then again, to be fair, i'm not sure carl's too keen either. not that i give a sterling. the truth of it is carl should count himself lucky that i even consider him a friend. not that i do. but that's what he thinks. i'll stop round here for a few days then sort out somewhere proper. times are hard but i'm rolling with

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1081435026164325602004-04-07T15:37:00.000+01:002004-04-08T16:02:10.543+01:00

the wife has changed the locks on the door. i've been kipping rough the past few weeks. at least i've been sleeping round at mark's which amounts to the same thing. had enough of it round there mind. his missus don't stop fucking moaning. i don't know how the poor bloke puts up with it. maybe the hospital's not such a bad thing. probably should count his blessings. don't know where i'm gonna kip

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1081434751527942862004-04-07T13:32:00.000+01:002004-04-08T16:01:55.793+01:00

accident mark's in hospital. fell off the scaffolding. fell 3 floors into a skip. poor sod. he's even more depressed than usual. the good news is that as he slipped he reached out for support and took the contracts manager along for the ride. nice one marky boy.

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1080722922539147092004-03-31T09:48:00.000+01:002004-03-31T10:07:06.890+01:00

long jimmy lambert start work tommorow. me, souness, john, carl and mark, working with jimmy lambert. jimmy's an old mate from school who's doing up houses for some greek bloke in Mile-end. it's not painting though. it's demolition work. musn't grumble. as long as we're getting paid. we met jimmy in the grapes last night. £40 a day cash in hand he's paying. that'll do nicely jimbo. he's a funny

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1080570891423368092004-03-29T15:34:00.000+01:002004-03-29T16:00:36.610+01:00

got a postcard ... ... from fraser this morning. alright. it's me. i'm in lanzarote. 'orrible 'ere. weather 'orrible. 'orrible volcanoes … bit like being on mars. sharon can't stand it. says it's 'orrible. the worst holiday she's ever had. hotels 'orrible though I've not seen any scousers so that's summit I suppose. weird swede woman with a big head walking about. looks fucking gormless with a

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1080043484879533502004-03-22T23:04:00.000Z2004-03-23T12:21:31.700Z

kipping at marks i'm kipping round at marks tonight on account of the wife having slung me out again. talk about kick a man when he's down. i can't be bothered arguing with her in fairness. this whole fiasco at the weekend's phased me good and proper. anything for a quite life at the moment that's my motto. i need a a good rest and mark's spare room is just the place to get it. it's a good job

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1079972618611283072004-03-22T16:23:00.000Z2004-03-22T16:28:54.043Z

marshal's dictionary scouser a skally shitnit from liverpool who only has one aim in life, to rob more wheels than any other skally. wheel robbing lacoste wearer pikey from liverpool who talks like a twat. an irish person who can swim

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1079967690193422742004-03-22T15:01:00.000Z2004-03-29T15:54:39.936+01:00

nicked at knock me and the lads have just been deported from ireland on account of that daft scaly 'souness'. me, mark, john and carl have just spent the entire fucking weekend in a police cell at knock airport on account of that idiotic, lacoste wearing, hub-cap thieving’ scouser. we'd had a cosy little flight over, few beers, no aggro, and were about to go through customs when toxteth's

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1079614013753901432004-03-18T13:46:00.000Z2004-09-29T09:18:08.006+01:00

fraser and the yellow v-necks went to see me mate fraser's band (the v-necks) last night at some toilet of a pub in dagenham. went with mark, carl, john and souness. we're all off to ireland this weekend so were all just starting to drift into warm glowing feeling that befriends you in the days leading up to a monumenal piss up. what a night. we should have stayed indoors. in fairness, fraser

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1079427627200476192004-03-16T09:00:00.000Z2004-03-29T15:55:43.903+01:00

ireland off to ireland this weekend with the chaps. we fly out this friday. come back sunday night. can't wait. i love ireland. love everything about it i think that's why i love the pogues so much need to do a bit of shopping. need some new strides wife's not happy about something. she'll be less happy when she knows i'm off to ireland for the weekend bollocks to it. a man needs his space

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1079343984569690322004-03-15T09:46:00.000Z2004-03-15T14:40:02.843Z

carl's looking smug about something. he hands me a sheet of paper more or less as soon as i walk through the door. not only that: this is a sheet of paper with words on it. bloody hell carl, things are looking up mate. i scan the page. looks like a poem. looks like a good poem at that. i'm no expert but this is a decent bit of writing in anyone's book. i read the first four lines ... ...

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1079086642399136282004-03-12T10:17:00.000Z2004-03-15T09:24:27.170Z

writers block carl's writing a book about his life. there's a little snag: carl doesn't have a life. no much of one anyway. he's still living at home with his mum and dad. I went round there last night to see how he's getting on and he tells me he's got writers block. it doesn't even occur to someone like carl that to suffer from something like writers block you really do need to have written

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1077814427304067082004-02-26T16:53:00.000Z2004-08-09T16:19:03.626+01:00

round at marks last night watching the footie. liverpool in europe. me, mark, carl, john and Souness. Souness is the scouser in our midst so of cause he's come dressed in full wally regalia: red hat, scarf. looking a proper spud when all said and done. it wouldn't have surprised me if he'd bought a rattle the big fucking daft tube that he is. the scousers won 2-0 which gave old gerard hollier

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1077641805528700822004-02-24T16:56:00.000Z2004-02-26T11:25:11.466Z

divorce the wife wants a divorce. last night she told me i'm a good for nothing slovenly bastard apparently. her exact words "well at least i've got my looks love," i told her went crazy then didn't she. starts throwing things and that. good job john was out seeing her in that state. it'd disturb the little sod who does she think she is anyway calling me slovenly? she can fucking talk. she should

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1077280641834897452004-02-20T12:37:00.000Z2004-02-24T14:45:36.716Z

stuck i'm stuck on a train this can't be happening to me today of all fucking days this cannot be FUCKING HAPPENING! i've got a job interview in the city - night-watchman gig - and i'm stuck on this useless fucking tube of metal junk AAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRR!!! fuck! fuck! fuck! 25 minutes i've been down here. i'm writing this on my lap-top by the way in case you were wondering the driver's

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1076505606344469792004-02-11T13:20:00.000Z2004-02-13T09:19:53.890Z

uncle norman i popped round mum and dads last night. uncle norman was there. he's a weird one my mums brother. got a funny way about him. eyes just a little bit too close together for my liking it’s not just that though. i don't quite know what it is about him to be fair, can't put it into words exactly, it's just a feeling you get when you're in his company, it's like ... the wheel’s spinning

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1076426738633357702004-02-10T15:25:00.000Z2004-02-10T15:29:58.873Z

videos i'm not happy with keith. apparently he's selling videos of my beating for ten pound a pop. tosser!

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1076413254804434102004-02-10T11:40:00.000Z2004-02-10T11:45:39.560Z

happy days feeling better today. the next door neighbor's keeping a low profile. not surprising as old bill carted him away on friday. got him bang to rights. apparently he's saying it was self defence it's looking good for me though. Keith from no. 2 got the whole thing on video. 10 minutes of footage apparently, 9 minutes of which i'm lying on the ground taking a good kicking. i tell you, if

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1076318927039278682004-02-09T09:28:00.000Z2004-02-26T17:09:08.810Z

hospital i spent the weekend in hospital. friday night it all kicked off when i went next door to ask them to turn their music down. this big ugly bastard comes to the door, huge and soapy looking, head the size of a wrecking ball perched on two massive, neck-less shoulders. pig-ugly this one was "do us a favor mate," i says, "could you turn the music down please. if it's not to much trouble

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1076102699768735892004-02-06T21:12:00.000Z2004-02-09T09:13:53.390Z

no respect the music from next door is worse than ever. it's a disgrace. no respect at all. it's not even good music either. it's shite rap music crap. that's it - i'm going round there

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1075896746376741542004-02-04T12:12:00.000Z2004-02-26T17:06:15.936Z

noisy neighbor's the new next door neighbor's are doing my brain in. playing their music at all hours of the day and night they are. it's a piss take. if this carries on i'm going round there. 2 days i'll give them, then i'm round there to have words. people think they can do what they want. you've got to make a stand or who knows where these things can lead. and if the man of the house wants it

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6048806.post-1075728498543895982004-02-02T13:28:00.000Z2004-03-31T09:43:43.403+01:00

lost my trousers i woke up this morning in a strange bedroom. can't remember a thing about last night. bedroom's odd. there's hundreds of pictures on the wall of peoples heads. all shapes and sizes. reminded me of the beatles song 'penny lane' with the barber-shop, all the heads he'd had the pleasure to have known and all that i was wearing my 'pogues' - streams of whiskey t-shirt, which i can't

Johnny Splodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18139179925995692376noreply@blogger.com