JD Salinger

Books at bedtime. I awlways keep loads of mags at the side of the bed for evri eventuality. I’m not really one foa books unless they’ve got loads of photos or diagrams inside. I must say that I have a huge selection of German stuff that I’ve collected ovva the years. It usually does the trick. As a yoof I remember reedin’ “Catcher in the Rye” by JD Salinger, but I didn’t understand a fackin’ word an’ I fort that awl that swearin’ was unnecessary, especially that phrase ‘sunuvabitch’; wots awl that abawt. I did, nevvatheless, enjoy “Metamorphosis” by Kafka. The bit where the bloke turned into a giant insect was dead cool.

Evening routine. When I’m at ‘ome, arfta I’ve finished a twelve ‘our shift, driven back from Landan at one hundrid an’ firty miles an ’our, knocked up a fifteen minit Ruby, rolled an’ smoked a six inch spliff, necked a bokkle of Gevry an’ a huge glaas of Remy VSOP I would relax in spa barf wiv mi bird, then I would sensitively slip her a lenff froo the bubbles. I would grab a few ‘ours kip an’ set off foa Landan at free o’clock in the mornin’ to miss awl of the traffic an’ be on the job at foa firty.