Alex Hayden is a twat

I feel I must apologise to anyone in the world who is called Alex Hayden.  This story is entirely inspired by a piece of toilet door graffiti and I have nothing against anyone of this name.  Whoever wrote the grafitti obviously did and here’s my explanation of what happened to move that person to express their opinion.

Alex Hayden is a twat

I chucked it off the pier.  When you asked for it back I had a little stomach-flip moment but then I just lied.

‘Sure, I’ll dig it out for you.’

I didn’t know what I’d do but it seemed like an easier path than telling the truth.  And I didn’t feel guilty.  I’ve decided that, after what you did, I don’t have to feel guilty about anything regarding you.  I could piss through your letterbox and walk away happy.  I won’t though.  Don’t worry about it.  Don’t lie awake at night wondering if that rattle is me preparing to empty my bladder onto your hallway carpet.

Of course you won’t be lying awake at night, will you?  You’ll be shagging him and then sleeping – warm, peaceful.   I’m the idiot doing the lying awake, trying to work it all out in my head.  Dee says it’s pointless.

‘James, get sleeping pills.  Get Valium.  Get fucking something, mate, because you look like a zombie.’

I don’t like drugs though.  I don’t like to give in to the chunter, chunter of my crazy head.  I am certain I can get through this without them if I just work out what it is that makes you behave this way.  And, also, I need to work out what the hell I’m going to do about your book.  It was a signed copy, that’s the thing.  I could easily buy you another copy but I can’t forge the dedication and signature.

I can see Orion in the sky tonight.  I keep remembering that night when I looked up and said,

‘What’s that little trail of stars there, is it his willy?’

And you laughed so much that you choked on your wine.

‘It’s his sword, James.’

You knew so many things that I didn’t – capital cities, chemical formulas, theories of economics, dates of wars and names of key battles.  I can’t bear to look at crosswords now.  I can’t stand to watch a quiz show.  I sometimes think you’ve spoiled the whole fucking world for me, Alex.  And then I hear Dee telling me to make a cup of tea and stop being melodramatic.

So, the book.  It was a first edition of Will Self’s latest novel.  You took me to the reading and you asked an ‘insightful’ question afterwards and I thought I’d die of pride watching you get it signed.  Because I rang with pride just standing next to you, you total fucker.  And I remember what he wrote too,

‘With all best wishes to Alex.’

Well I threw Will Self’s wishes off the pier.  Then I threw up.  I keep doing that.  Because I don’t understand what happened and I can’t swallow it.  That you should just sack me.  That I was, overnight, a person you’d relegated to the sub’s bench.  How did that happen?

It’s nearly eight now.  I think I’ll go to the bookshop and get a replacement for you.  What else can I do? Yes, I’ll buy one and I’ll write you another dedication.  I’ll write the only thing I’m sure of in this whole sorry mess.

‘Alex Hayden is a twat.’

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s