Miss Makeover: PHILIP LARKIN, BALD GIT SURROUNDED BY WEDLOCK JUNKIES
By Rollerblade on September 6, 2010
Time they made heterosexuality legal, grumbled Eric Morecambe impersonator Philip Larkin, complaining about the legalisation of homosexuality. “But they have made it legal,” said one of the wedlock junkies he was embroiled with. “It’s called marriage.” A bit too legal, he grumbled.
He was afraid to die so spent about fifty years avoiding life. He was afraid of marriage so got trapped in several love affairs simultaneously, all of them stickier than marriages, where at least the boredom factor is such that you can get your head down for a good snooze. Marriage used to mean thirty years blissful slumber where you didn’t have to worry about dating or looking good. You had to remember anniversaries and endure family visits and you could be somewhere else most of the time anyway. It almost sounds good, put like that, rewriting history so that marriage, which drove me mad, or madder, seems like a workable solution.
I would marry My Man Max of course. But he won’t do it till I clean up. Even then he might baulk at the responsibility of having children. Which he might in any case want to have with someone else. Someone who isn’t a drug addict. Or a sex worker.
Which is why I find myself, after a very shaky, weepy day in bed, entering one of the city branches of Narcotics Anonymous. It’s a room at the back of a church. The ceiling does not cave in as I walk in. The Great Whore of Babylon has been welcomed back into the fold – if I want it, which I’m not quite sure just yet. This time might be different though. I’m going to get a sponsor, do it properly. I’m not supposed to tell you what happens in here but I don’t see why I shouldn’t. I’m still serious about cleaning up. Which is going to get me my son back. And My Man Max. We’ll get married. Which will teach him a lesson.
Any day now.