Jerusalem

the present smashed and set on fire I think about Iraq I’m bloody glad that we called off that trip I mean Iraq’s an obvious example but it’s everywhere the fragmentation and the fabric, watching while it comes to bits, it’s everywhere oh God imagine that imagine being made to kneel and have your head cut off on camera it’s hang on this is where the north gate was up this end of Sheep Street this is where we put the heads on spikes the Danish raiders that we’d captured there weren’t cameras then but heads on spikes it’s the same thing it’s the dark age equivalent it’s a display meant to deter the enemy not that if I’d have gone to Basra I’d have been an enemy I said it was an opportunity to help a war-torn nation and its people and if Anglicom got something out of it well where’s the harm in that I’m not an enemy but then you could say that’s naive that’s not the way it works it’s how they see us isn’t it not how we see ourselves I mean they say you should be careful how you choose your enemies but you don’t get a say in how your enemies choose you like fucking Roman fucking Thompson calling me a wanker making out that I’m the villain when I’m not I’m one of the last heroes standing up against the villains and of course sometimes there’s compromises but there’s worse than me a lot worse I deserve some credit some respect and if there’s any doubt then I should have the benefit of it and Sheep Street opens up into the smeary paintbox of the square and here we are the Bird in Hand

on Reg

ent Square the glare the Friday atmosphere as if it’s waiting for some I don’t know some ugly business to kick off perhaps it’s me, my age, you hear so many stories is it any wonder that downtown at night well it’s enough to make anyone nervous well not nervous let’s say wary and I’m not a big man but you’ve got to do it got to go out now and then perhaps stop at the pub and have a drink prove to yourself that you still can that you’re not frightened, when you start to think like that you’re beaten, that there’s not this sense of it all catching up with you the door is brass and glass, net curtains on the other side I get the sense it might have looked just like this in the 1950s gives an elderly and wheedling squeal more of a wheeze the hinges as I push it open into

human body heat a wall of it the smell of fags and lager breath not the warm beer smell I remember there’s a fuzzy background carpeting of clatter mumble giggling girls squelchy glissandos from the fruit machine BWOIP BWOIP BWOIP BWOIP low ceiling keeping all the scent and sound pressed down there’s not that many people in it just seems like it after coming from an empty street but then the night’s still young I don’t think that there’s anybody here I know quick pint, then, pint of bitter standing up against the bar and trying to catch the barman’s eye oh fuck I’ve put my elbow in the spillage never mind I’ll sponge it down when I get home is he deliberately ignoring me he’s, no, no he’s just serving someone further down the bar and wait a minute that bloke sitting at the table in the corner there I’m sure I know his face from somewhere it’s oh shit he’s seen me looking at him mimed hello he obviously knows me I’m more or less forced, obliged, to give a big smile in response still can’t remember who it is I’ve seen him recently I’m sure but if he turns out to be someone I should pay attention to somebody who knows Mandy possibly but how he’s dressed I can’t imagine that it would be what’s he oh he’s holding up his empty glass he wants a drink and before I can stop myself I’m nodding but that means I’ll have to sit with him pretend that I remember who he is and oh God it’s Benedict Perrit but that’s no it’s too weird it’s

it’s a coincidence it’s nothing strange not if you understand mathematics properly it’s not as if

BWOIP BWOIP BWOIP BWOIP

it’s not as if it’s that remarkable we dream about all sorts of people and then see them but I mean I’m more annoyed than anything I’m more or less obliged to have a drink with him if only I’d not looked at him as if he was a long-lost friend, it’s just a habit from the job all of those years, if I’d just recognised him sooner but oh here’s the barman

“Can I have two pints of bitter, mate?”

why did I call him mate he’s not my mate oh well it’s just a pint I’ll have it down me in a quarter of an hour at most then tell him I’ve got business somewhere else a quarter of an hour how hard can that be but hang on what’s that he’s doing is he it looks like some sort of pantomime he’s pointing at me and then turning round towards the empty stool beside him and then lifting up his hand to shield his mouth as if he’s saying something now he’s laughing what’s the matter with him it’s as if he’s acting out some sort of joke or something that he thinks I’m in on I can hear him laughing right across the room he’s like a horse BWOIP BWOIP “Ahahaha!” BWOIP BWOIP is he taking the piss what’s going on oh here’s the barman with the pints

“Cheers, mate.”

arrrrh Christ let me stop saying that pay him, a fiver, take the change there’s not much and then navigating pint in each hand I can’t stand this bit it makes me tense you can’t see your own feet or where you’re putting them and all these people they’re like bumpers on a pinball table and you know you’re going to end up spilling it all down yourself or worse all down somebody else and then they punch your lights out it’s like trying to steer a ship to dock or well with me it’s more a tugboat nosing in amongst a load of hulking cargo vessels and just look at him just hark at him mugging and laughing and pretending that he’s whispering about me like an aside to an audience that isn’t there is he like this with everybody for fuck’s sake what have I got myself hooked up in now oh well it’s too late

“Hello, Benedict. How are you keeping? I got you a pint of bitter, hope that’s alright.”

of course it’s alright there’s no need to sound so apologetic it’s him cadging drinks off you it’s him who should apologise if anybody you don’t need to always make a good impression well not with just anybody not with somebody like him he’s

“Councillor, you must be a clairvoyant. Ahaha. You read me mind.”

oh bloody hell I hope not if I read your mind then I’ll bet M.R. James he wouldn’t be a patch on you I shouldn’t sleep for weeks I shouldn’t even

“Oh, no. No, I’m no clairvoyant. This last three year I’ve not even been a councillor since I stepped down. 2003 that was. That’s when bloody Tony Blair involved us in Iraq.”

now technically that’s true I haven’t said the two facts were connected so in fact I haven’t

“Ahahaha! Yiss you are, you’re a clairvoyant! Freddy made out as you hadn’t got the gift, but I had faith in your psychic abilities. I’m a believer, councillor. Ahahaha. Cheers!”

“But I’m not a …”

fucking hell look at that pint go down that Adam’s apple working like he’s got a piston arm in there who’s Freddy and that accent “Yiss” you used to hear it all the time down here old ladies mostly the real strong Northampton accent I’d forgotten when we first moved in we used to laugh about it me and Mandy do impressions then it gets that you don’t notice it and then next thing you know it’s all but gone when was the last time I

“So, did you get out of that cellar in the end? Ahahaha.”

what cellar what’s he talking about what

“What cellar’s that? I’m sorry, but you’ve lost me.”

there, again, apologising what should you be sorry for it’s him who’s talking rubbish he’s

“The cellar in the dream. Ahahaha! You didn’t like it much.”

the

but

what what is he oh no oh God no that’s no that’s BWOIP BWOIP BWOIP BWOIP no

“What do you m … how do you know about …”

is this a dream, this now, is this the same dream have I not yet woken up or