Just Another Chav Town Freak Out by Al Calm (best english books to read .txt) 📕

OK, so I hang with this MILF's dickhead son - and a really boring fuckhead! Yeah, you know we've all met them.  His name is Gary - we call him Goofball Gary. He's a bit slow though he looks fine - he's got some funny stutter and sounds like the Chinese Waiter skit from Richard Pryor's stand-up routine. I don’t give a fuck, I got a Heist mix blasting, Step out the box, love the tunage! Yeah, you can tell I don’t do much apart from fuckabout and get mash up.

By the way, dudes, I'm fucking Goofball’s mum, Melissa. She's forty-ish but she's a wicked fuck, fucking kinky as shit. We've got an arrangement! But I been unemployed for over a decade now, so I keep an eye on Goofball Gary. He gets into trouble so easy and still gets turned on by authority figures, uniforms, all that right wing shit. Fucking power crazy, despite making out he's well thick. And I think he's got serious issues. I should know as I've got loads myself! 

He goes to college and I use to go, but I suggested to him to drop out of some shitty course  - he's failing really bad anyway, and I said there's probably toilet paper out there with more value than his diploma in whatever even if he does managed the holy blag Batman scam. He ain’t going to be wicked on the old echodek, or with Reason or Ableton. Whatever it called. I’m shit with it too, though I know Goofball, he’s full of shit. Looking forward to seeing Majistrate and RuffStuff again, though. Yeah, wish those dudes link up with the old skoolers a lot more, too -after all they all cut thier teeth in the old skool vibe back in the day. What's going on with Gary? He's a proper spazz.

   Yeah, I got to be honest: the sick fucker's obsessive about pop culture and celebrities. He loves Geordie Shore, all of it, can’t wait for the realtime uncut pornos. Now you can't get around it today, it's fucking everywhere, celeb this, celeb that, tweet, twat, twonk, celebrity sells - but he thinks he's like a celebrity of sorts in his area. Just because he lives on twitter. He knows people laugh at him - who else wears Adidas with a duffel coat? He still wears Bermuda shorts and Hawaiian shirts. I dig his Ninja Turtles tee, though.

That ain't the point, and believe me I'm slowly forgetting it. Trisha's on and I was thinking of winding Goofball Gary up later by busting him wanking over Loose Women in his bedroom. He's that sad. That's it! He said that he's getting so obsessive with celebrities he wants to eat one. He'll be cruising Shoreditch for Z-listers. That's his idea of success. You eat someone famous, or semi-famous, you'll be a success. Fucked or what? Now I get kinda alarmed - I'm not too gone yet. I try to explain the basic principles of cannibalism to Goofball Gary and said he shouldn't confuse them with commercialism. But this Goofball consumer knows no bounds: he wants it all and he wants it now. He's got his eye on Katie Hopkins, she's got a tasty gob too.

I needed to think about this - after doobie number whatever - and really felt for the deluded fool. I'm slowly thinking that he's losing it, and had that reality TV disorder that had been discovered by some Swedish expert - I forgot the name, I saw it all on TV - but Goofball Gary is the very first fannibal. He really wanted to consume his celebrity idols.I decided to find out what music Goofball Gary was into. And it's so fucking depressing: Miley Cyrus, The Jonas Brothers, The Sugababes, the entire cast of Twilight, all that manufactured junk that's bad for you and should come with a health warning. His vibes are shit. Goofball's creaming like a maniac for them. He’s listening to Squarewave, though I don’t mind his new banger and the mix of Police Officer, but I’ll always be a Yardrock dude: Billy Bunter and RTC with Marvellous Cain, right up me street. Slippers should throw in a few more full spectrum sets, acid house, hardcore to jungle, always rocks the place. Just like Kenny Ken, a proper don. It real lucky Goofball’s not smart enough to be a stalker. The only thing he'd known called Stalker was a neighbour's bull terrier that humps his leg pretty much every morning. Now I know why Goofball's always funny about getting his milk in the mornings 

As I puff on, I realise that I was no motherfucking Bogart-dick. I needed to stop him cooking up some non-entity Big Brother person he'd get all obsessed with. I actually forgot who it was! I know! Fucking typical! I've been knackered since my teens and when I was Goofball's age I was too busy deleting my past and my brain cells. So I don't mean to offend the "celebrity" but yeah, I can't remember who. Oh, fuck them anyway - it's not like they'll see this, probably too busy caking on make-up and plugging their shit. We all know how tame those fuckers get! The good thing is that I've found out they filmed this piece of junk near Goofball Gary's sister's - she's called Zara, I don't know her too well, I only met her once and watched her puke her guts up for hours on end! I figure - and it took me ages to suss it - that Gary'll try to go there to camp out and get a taste of his chosen celebrity.

 I didn't know if this is his idea of new fashionable cuisine - but I can't believe he's that fucked up and probably just wants to play out a few sexual fantasies. He's into cum-flicking at the moment. I kicked myself about joking with him earlier, over a brew, before he took his meds, about getting a good agent. I said it's all he needs. He tells me to keep talking, as if I'm some fucking oracle. I'm trying to remember how it went. OK, it wasn't that interesting, but it sort've went like this:

Goofball Gary looks at me. He thinks he knows what I'm thinking. I'm thinking about Crystal Palace - I'm sure they'll be fine, well, maybe. Goofball's watching a repeat of some Celebrity Big Brother guff. It's babble, I'm flicking through the paper anyway. Gary turns to me and says: " S-s-s-s-o y-y-y-O  t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-tink I c-c-c-cun g-g-g-g-g-git o-o-o-one um?" I shrug, puffing and rubbing my nose, and thinking about you know what. I pretend to understand Goofball Gary ninety percent of the time. The truth is I don't really get him one hundred percent of the time. I just nod a lot. You know? I try to be cool: "I don't know - I suppose you need to be some sort of agent motherfucker, you know the sort?" I think I make it worse by going on:

"Dude, look at some celebs, man, they're fucking talentless fuckers - but they get shit for free, jetset around, do pretty much fuck all apart from whore themselves.  Man, they get where they are by fucking around. If you can't get the career, just fuck someone who already has it, right? You can see it with loadsa celebs man. It's obvious man, it's the way of the fucking world. It'll never change. I know the world can fucking suck when you're not off your nuts. Thank fuck for drugs man!"

I think I ranted too much to the poor Goofball.

Goofball Gary smiles, a kinda scary Big Brother fan smile. Now that's really scared me. I haven't a clue what I'm talking about and now I'm thinking that this fucker is actually listening to me. I should've ignored him. I have to say I felt sorry for the wanky fucker. Shit he's so thick - just as thick as me.OK, maybe a little bit thicker. He needs velcro shoes and I can just about knot my laces, though sometimes I rock the converse without laces, you know. That's the best indicator of intelligence for me. But I know I'm trapped with him - I blame his mother - I only want to protect him from himself! He's joined some geeky wank-fest online fan club shit, I caught him looking at it online - and one of the gormless fuck face's who runs it all, just lives around the way. You sussed it man: Goofball wants me to attend this piece of celeb pap round there. It looks like this is one hole I ain't digging myself out of anytime soon.     

Yeah, Gary's really doing my head in still. I'm pleased it sorted and slightly all over now and I can get this all off my chest. I turn up the Bunter and Slipmatt mix of Jump Around. Love the DT original but fuck, you got to love this mix. I have to admit it always gets stressful with Goofball Gary. And if I wasn't getting it on with his mum now and again, I don't know if I would want to know him. 

Now he got all that information off this geek - yeah, this geek fucker is called Horace by the way! I forgot his real name, but saw him again in some shithole in Camden! I mean who in the 21st motherfucking century is called Horace? Fuck no way! But Horace goes to some bumlicking uni and he's well posh anyway and his parents think he's a fag and he's always pilled up, he don't ever need to work too. Thinks he’s edgy by going Lockside. But I'm sure he'll get whatever he wants out of this world! But we get along through the small fact we both get pretty mullered. We

Goofball Gary doesn't know Horace like I know him. Gary's a fool. He thought that celeb shit was filmed just outside London, but that Horace geek sent him to fucking Colchester.

Yeah, I ain't joking. We're chilling round Colchester just for the fuck of it and I really need to get trashed for a bit. But Gary's obsessed about some other celebs - it keeps fucking changing, every single hour. He phones up Horace on my mobile - which is the one his mum gave me - and asks where they might be.

What's worse Goofball now wants to get close to some ho in some dirty flick called 'Two Girls One Cup'. You have to see it! You probably have seen it. But it should win an Oscar - it's truly sick and I almost puked, but I was getting turned on while retching. That's a new thing - I never thought I was messed up like that too! 

It reminds me of that time Gary caught me sticking my sore cock up his Mum's arse in the lounge. Melissa's cool about it though. She said he's got to grow up. She's letting me see some of her dyke sex tapes too - part of our "arrangement shit" - which is always a good thing but Gary's getting too weird.

I explain to him, in the cab, that we're going on some wild hunt and that he's looking for a porn star that's probably not in the country. Gary thinks Horace has "info" but just because he's got a wankbooktweet shit thing don't make him part of the fucking CIA! He's got shit on all this and I don't want to talk to Gary too much about porn stars. He thinks he met some before and I have to be honest, he's full of shit.

He tried to pick up a girl behind the counter in a chip shop.  He sprayed his saliva over her just trying to speak to her. In the end he got me to do the talking but she just wanted to know if I knew someone who could score. It was that easy. But she was different and I've forgot her name already. She invited us to a house party and we said yeah we're fucking cool as thanks - I wish we hadn't now.

Gary needed to sleep; he was drooling over meeting these porn stars out of Two Girls One Cup. And he was starting to sniff his own shit and carry a model South Park shit creature thing. I don't know if I needed to get some help. I left a couple of messages for his mum, Melissa. But she was probably out, hammering it and munching out her new lesbo fuck-buddy. I almost cum in my pants just thinking about the footage later. But I noticed Goofball staring at my crotch.

"Y-y-y-y-e-r-r yer-l-l-l-l-l-lik-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-er", stuttered Goofball Gary, more angry than usual. I guessed he was referring to Chip Girl. Fuck what a dick! 

Chip Girl was fine and if I was getting a bit horny, I probably would've, but she probably wouldn't go near me - I'm toxic. I tried to make a joke of it with Gary,