Saturday, August 26, 2006

Rumour


Sweet-potato
Originally uploaded by MrNickyP.
So now I have fallen totally in a puddle and walked into a lamp-post in the last 48 hours. Give or take a few hours. I was late for work. I was walking briskly up the hill I live on. The next thing I know I am hit smartly in the face by a very solid lamp-post and sprawled on the floor in great disarray.

Matthew Pateman is a professor of literature (and expressive arts) at the University of Hull, and has been a member of famed boy band Bad Boys Inc and worked as an actor.

In TV, he played the role of outed gay singer in the series Doctors.

In his academic career, he received PhD from the University of Leeds, and became a teacher at the Scarborough unit of the University of Hull.

His major publications are:
• Matthew Pateman: Julian Barnes, ISBN 0 7463 0978 3, 128 pp, 2002.

1 Comments:

Blogger andyjamesnelson said...

Poem:

I doubt it will hurt you because your so cool. I mean if you were actually indestructible then I would fuck your asshole and it wouldn't get sore. Sore like a red thing all red and red and red. Like you know. Red. I remember the colour red. You remember the colour red. Its red. You know. Don't you know. I think you don't know. If you knew then why don't you know. I like you because you are soft and bendable. Like my cock. Except its not that bendable. Not around corners that is. Well not around your angles. Well Ok. But it would hurt and it would get all red. You know red. Yes red. I know red. Yes red. Then you would call it weird. You might stamp on it. Like kill it. Like not want to. You know. Suck it. Yes eat it. Like all the other fat stuff. Yes fat stuff. Like horrible red fat stuff. Like eat it. Like when we steel and don't get caught. Then we cheer and all the horns blow and down down with capitalism. Like when the chief makes a mark with a stick on your back and its all sore and red. You know red. With coal from the sea. Then your mum says go to bed and you do because your scared. Then we meet girls in bars and they smell of smoke. Then we lick their cunts and the taste of ash. Yeah they get excited but we wash our faces. Then they lock their thighs and its cool but it kind of cricks your neck. My head turns red. I sweat on you. You like it. I have seen you collect it in a small jar you call your own. You label it with your name and hide it in a cupboard. Your sick like that. Your so sick that you wank yourself with a broom. I will not explain how. I would like it if you died.


Hey Chris I wrote a poem for you. I hope you like it. I do. I think its funny. I think your funny. Your still small write. I get bigger yes. I would like you to one day perform one of my poems. That would be funny. See you. Love andy.

6:42 PM  

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