Colin Burnett - A Working Class State of Mind

Ah laid the boax ae painkillers alongside the boattle ae Smirnoff vodka oan the coffee table. It doesnae even matter tae me that ma flat is that cauld it wid gee an Eskimo the shivers. Aw ah kin focus oan is the troublin thoats which are circlin aroond ma heid like a vulture stalkin a dyin animal. Jist waitin fur the right moment tae pick through the bones. Each thoat bringin another feelin ae hopelessness and his gid pal, despair. Ah mean, Guantanamo Bay hus probably goat a maire hamely feel tae it than this dump. Thirty years oan this planet and what dae ah huv tae show fur it? A TV they dafties fae CSI could trace back tae John Logie Baird. A carpet thats goat maire stains oan it than an actress auditionin fur Harvey Weinstein. And look, even ma waws are fucked theyre that yelly, ahm startin tae hink theyve went jaundice, probably because day efter day, night efter night, ah sit here and try tae smoke masself intae an early grave. Ah heard earlier, oan the mornin news, that the PM, Boris Johnson, hus cawed a press conference fur later in the evenin. Yae jist ken that means somebaody is gontae suffer. As ah go tae light the joint ah hud pre-rolled in anticipation ae ma final act oan this planet, ah suddenly caught sight ae a spider danglin fae a long silvery thread in the corner ae the room. This tiny creature wis tryin tae swing oantae the shelf wae aw its bein, but still it couldnae muster the strength tae make it. Ahm sittin here hinkin tae massel: Jist gee up, ma wee pal. Youll never make it. Take it fae someboady who hus the t-shirt and the mental health issues tae prove it.

Aw, will yae look at the state ae this cunt. Jesus, ah look like a junkie efter a weekend in Amsterdam. The white vest ahm wearin goes sae well wae ma pale skin and skinny physique. Fur fuck sake, its Die Hard wae AIDS. Honestly, ahve goat tae laugh. Ah mean, how hus it come tae this, eh? Theres been nae Queensbury Rules involved in ma fight tae survive, thats fur fuckin sure. Aye, the man upstairs hus shot fae the hips and done a right number oan me. Yin minute its yur sweet sixteen, the juices rushin tae yur baws, andreline pumpin through yur veins, and the world seems like a tidy hing jist waitin fur yae tae fuck her. God, ah wis fuckin fearless back in the day ah hud such dreams. Then, suttin happens, suttin Nostradamus couldnae huv seen comin yur life flashes by yae at internet speed. The next hing yae ken, yur starin doon the double barrel ae thirty years ae pain and disappointment. Aw, yur still a pup, ah kin tell youve still goat that fire in yur belly, that hunger tae dae suttin wae yur life. Gee it time, fur it will soon come tae you as well, the flies will become that bit quicker, the shelfs that bit further awey, and if yur lucky, some cunt like me will come along tae stand oan yae and its aw oor very quick. At least that wey youre spared the heartache ae findin oot lifes jist yin big fuckin joke oan gadgies like us.

Aw, dinnae worry, nae harm will come tae yae by ma hand. Youve goat character, ah like that. Theres a loat tae be said aboot character. Yae see, what huv ah been tellin yae, theres nae point in tryin tae succeed Yur destined tae be jist like me, a Coke can thats waitin tae be kicked aboot throughoot yur entire life. Kin yae hear that? That faint voice at the back ae yur mind, the yin tauntin yae and laughin at yur every failure. The yin whisperin intae yur ear that yur nae gid tae nae cunt. Git yaist tae it because its only goantae git louder and before youll ken it, youve foond yur new best pal.

Ah live in the sixth richest nation in the world. And yit, ah kin hear Susan Boyle singin fae the rooftoaps, and tae tell yae the truth, ahm even half expectin that Irish boay fae the telly tae turn up at the door wae bloody Pudsey the Bear in tow. Aw, whats his name again? Looks like Gandalf fae Lord ae the Rings only efter hes contracted an STD. Whats his bloody name again? Oh, aye, Bob Geldof, thats him. Aye, thats the boay. Mean, ah hink he wis actually oan the telly last week campaignin tae save a distressed-lookin tree or summit. Yae see, aroond here, its no the courts ae law or the politicians who keep the peace its the drugs. Picture this scene: each mornin ah awake fae ma coma, then ah sit oan ma patio chairs because ah cannae afford a decent couch. Ah sit there wae ma bowl ae Coco Pops whilst ah watch shows that kin only be described as propaganda against the workin class. Ah mean, jist the other day, there wis this boay oan Jeremey Kyle who wis convinced his cat wis the anti-Christ. It wis summit tae dae wae the cat sittin oan his phone and diallin 666. Ah guess its true what they say aboot every litter. Whats the alternative? Change the channel and listen tae a graduate ae Hogwarts annoonce tae the nation that seein me droon in poverty hus jist became a national priority. Either choice is hardly a substitute fur intellectual capital. Growin up where ahm fae oor social status wis based upon how well you could fight or kick a baw. No exactly the criteria fur becomin the nixt Prime Minister or CEO ae a fortune five hunner company, is it?

Mean, the only hing ahve goat ae any value is this tattered-lookin watch ma granda left me. Ma mate Fraser is intae aw they antiques shows oan the telly. The wey the cunt goes oan, youd hink hes a curator at the British Museum and no oan remand fur robbin a couple ae posh stately hames. Ma mobile starts ringin oaf the hook at aboot half seven at night. As soon as ah answered the phone, Fraser starts tae yell doon the line, Bawbag, yur a fuckin millionaire! Ma first thought wis he must be back dain acid or summit, so ah hung up the phone oan him. Aboot a half oor later, ah hear bangin oan ma door. It wis yin ae they polis knocks, ken? the yins that aboot take the door oaf at the bloody hinges. Fraser comes chargin in aw oot ae breath and gaspin fur air and then mutters, Yur grandas watch, its worth a million quid. Ah seen the exact same yin oan the Antiques Roadshow the night! At first ah thoat he wis fuckin wae me, but yince ah could see his pupils wur still dilated, it started tae hit me he wisnae takin the piss efter aw.

We were baith wettin oorselves at the thoat ae aw that money. First hing the next mornin, we made a few calls tae git a jeweller tae value the watch. Oan aboot the fifth call ah made, we were put in touch wae an expert ae watches who hud a jewellers oan Princes Street. This wis yin ae they places posh cunts go tae git their dicks up. Ah mean, it hud maire bling than Mr T. As we stood ootside the buildin, Fraser eloquently took this opportunity tae remind me ae his claim tae a share ae the money: Aye, childhood pal, and remember it wis me who telt yae aboot the fuckin hing. And dinnae furget ah peyed yae back that tenner. Thats a hunner grand ae any rich cunts money.

Ah couldnae believe ma ears ah stood there wae three quid in shrapnel jinglin aboot in ma pocket, and this cunt wants a hunner grand oaf me. This boay dressed in a tuxedo and bowtie who looked as if he wis waitn fur a bell tae ring to go and wipe his masters erse greeted us in reception. Ah could see by the glare in the boays eyes he wisnae used tae comin acroass two rough and tumble boays like us in his line ae work. He directed us intae his office and started tae appraise the hing, and efter aboot a couple ae minutes he telt us suttin we should huv kent aw along: it wis worth a pittance. The colour fae oor faces drained awey along wae oor hopes ae a wey oot ae this fishbowl we caw a life. Dinnae git me wrong. If ah had hud the energy, ah would huv taken Fraser tae the roof ae the buildin tae throw him oaf and then halled him back up fur an encore. The way that cunt hud been goin oan, we were aboot tae dae a deal wae Sothebys. Insteed ah find oot av goat a watch that ah need tae git sum unsuspectin celebrity tae wear then shoot thum oan the spot jist tae git its value up past the eighty quid mark. Poverty does that tae yae. It isnae jist a word fur politicians tae throw aboot tae git oor vote. Its an illness ae the mind, boady, and soul.