alot of people haven’t been asking me whether the revolution i have spoken about on here is still on. i think it’s because they are in awe of the way i ‘psyched’ everybody when i pretending i wanted that job in london. well, the good news is i’ve spoken to dave c and as long as he decides against going to college then our plans are definitely back… on!
i put it to dave like this: what’s more important, kickin some corporate lizard ass on my dad’s leased line or a gnvq in business textiles? exactly.
so me and dave bought some leather jackets and then went to mcdonalds drive thru and when they asked us what we wanted to order we said: “how about some money for the poor people you killed to make a big mac? how about some justice with a side order of revolution?” she didn’t reply.
we drove round to the window and it turns out the machine wasn’t working so she didn’t hear us. dave’s asthma was kicking in a bit so we just ordered some nuggets and sat in the car park.
then we heard the news on the radio that tracey chapman had died.
if you don’t know who tracey chapman is, he wrote the songs ‘electric avenue’ and ‘ghostbusters’. he was like a slower bob marley but alive. until now. then the dj played ‘talkin bout a revolution’ and i knew what i had to do.
i marched back into mcdonalds, picked up a load of napkins and threw them on the floor. then i walked up to the front counter and told one of the ‘managers’ “that was for tracey”.
i got back in the car and waited for dave to come back. he’d gone to the toilet in the meantime. i sat thinking about the statement i had just made, and whether i could put it on a tshirt and sell it outside sixth form colleges. dave came back and when i asked why he’d taken so long he said it was because an employee called tracey was shouting and crying at people behind the counter in the restaurant.
i patted dave on the shoulder. i knew what he had seen was just a grief-stricken hallucination caused by the mcfumes.
“i see tracey too, dave.
“i see tracey too.”
