the confessio
On stopping at the traffic lights near Stephens Green...
I chanced a surreptitious prod in nostril number one.
Glancing to my right I beheld Donna Roche, my old unrequited love from childhood.
She was looking directly at me.
She did not keep the bemusement from her face.
I was caught.
Caught picking percies from my proboscis.
Caught green handed, as we nose pickers always say.
I favoured her with my famous fleeting grin.
The sheepish version.
My index finger was still north of north in the nose.
I didn't want to jerk it out suddenly because people get hurt that way.
I withdrew ye aforementioned finger from my nose with all the old world dignity of Gladstone proposing Dominion Status for Mauritius to the House of Commons.
The lights turned green.
Green like snots.
I drove.
And at that moment the air filled with music as one of Ireland's more surrealistic radio stations began to play a song called The Little Spanish Flea.
All the cheery defiance of hispaniola filled my beautiful dented car.
The Little Spanish Flea is the theme tune to my life.
I chanced a surreptitious prod in nostril number one.
Glancing to my right I beheld Donna Roche, my old unrequited love from childhood.
She was looking directly at me.
She did not keep the bemusement from her face.
I was caught.
Caught picking percies from my proboscis.
Caught green handed, as we nose pickers always say.
I favoured her with my famous fleeting grin.
The sheepish version.
My index finger was still north of north in the nose.
I didn't want to jerk it out suddenly because people get hurt that way.
I withdrew ye aforementioned finger from my nose with all the old world dignity of Gladstone proposing Dominion Status for Mauritius to the House of Commons.
The lights turned green.
Green like snots.
I drove.
And at that moment the air filled with music as one of Ireland's more surrealistic radio stations began to play a song called The Little Spanish Flea.
All the cheery defiance of hispaniola filled my beautiful dented car.
The Little Spanish Flea is the theme tune to my life.
posted by heelers | 3:21 AM
3 Comments:
Bloody good thing the Pope wasn't waiting at the lights. Folks have been ex-combobulated for less.
Snot about the Pope.
J
Would that be "The Little Spanish Flea", as rendered by Nostril Ned and his Nine Nasty Nosepickers? (No, I didn't just type that.)
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