Monday, 26 February 2007

You’re Nothing But A Naked Architect – Go and Put Some Pants On!





(A really badly written poem I wrote about another one of my ex-lovers. We'll call him PBA which stands for the Peckham Based Architect).

A card
His card, thrust into my face
Advertises his services

The naked architect:
“Come along any time of day. All you do is pay”

I phone his number, without even dialing it.
I find him smooth talking and refined in a way that nearly blows my mind away.
I have never really met his kind.

He invites me round for tea, in Peckham-on-the-sea.
I confess to my architect that I have no money.
And he says, “Don’t worry young Northern lass. I don’t want you for your brass. Take your knickers off. There’s no need for cash”.

Feeling crass I go and visit him,
Without even traveling there.
I find myself in Peckham-on-the-sea.
A tourist for the day.

I take my camera, like all the rest.
I want a memento for my wall.

He pours some gin.
He is naked – totally naked.

I knock the gin back and say,
“You’re naked, naked, naked, naked, naked, naked, naked, naked. You’re exactly what your card says. You’re a naked architect. Would you, perhaps, do me a favour and go and put some pants on”.

“No!”
He pours another gin.
At some point soon the room begins to spin.

I find him on the ceiling
I find him on the floor
I find him on the wall
Then I find him leading me through the hall,
And up the stairs,
Until, at last he takes me into his work room.

I demand he puts some pants on.

“No!”
We fight together, roll around on the floor
Until, at last I find him, in me.

He’s so fucking big; he nearly ruptures my internal organs
He plays it well, to the point where I can’t tell anymore.
What zone am I in now?
I’m no longer in a comfort zone,
Or, a pain zone.
Instead it’s a rapturous applause zone
The stuff that standing ovations are made out of

It’s opera, it’s high art. It’s a Brian Sewell moment.
But, what it isn’t is a night out in Batley, at the Variety Club, dancing in white stiletto shoes around handbags on the dance floor.

This is a squeezing grapes in-between your toes moment, a making wine in France moment. This is some bloody FUCK!

We did it on the floor, under the bed, in the bath, in a cupboard, in an enchanted forest – the fairies and the elves watched that one – they thought it was highly entertaining, on the kitchen table, on a balcony, standing up, lying down, spinning around. We even did on the walsas, on Peckham pier. We tried it on a washing line – but that didn’t work

We even had a go on the ironing board, but my gigantic hips broke that. So, I’ll have to buy him another one. That’s the least I can do.

When we had finished
He threw me out of the window, and in the direction of a busy main road
I could hear the on coming traffic; all aggressively tooting their horns, breaks screeching, sirens screaming.
I panic, but then he catches me – the naked architect
I find myself falling backwards, and into his arms – the naked architect

Where did the naked architect come from?
I tell him he’s a magician, at which point he vanishes – the naked architect.

I think he went to put some pants on.

9 comments:

Anonymous said...

You related to Ms. Smack? What a dirty imagination you have, Miss Catriona. H.

Miss Smack's Pussy Cat, Climax said...

So, Katriona, you are the young niece of The Hitch. We had very high hopes of you. We remember you from the Heslington Group, although we forgave you. But now you are related to the Hitch, it's less forgiveable. You are also, so my spies tell me, 46 years old. You lie about your age. You had an affair with an MP - he, though, thought you were 29. The MP now has a white stick, Spankey, spankey! Meow!

Darkersideofbridgetjones said...

So, now I bloody well know the true identity of the Hitch. It's two people - the Croydonian and Newmania.
Fine .... I bet you were both TP Fuller as well!? Newmania you're a tease. I will get you back for this - don't you worry honey. I am making plans tonight.
And, by the way kate the nurse says she wants to shove a needle up your ****!!

Miss Smack's Pussy Cat, Climax said...

Where's my post on you, the Heslington group, the shagging an MP, your age? Help, I need bloody help. I will commit suicide if you don't publish it. Dr. David Kelly-style (dead in the woods).

Croydonian said...

Catriona, I can assure you that I am not the Hitch, and neither is Paul.

HungLikeARat said...

Whey faced girl: My mother has had a shit life like.
Callow youth: Yea?
Whey faced girl: She’s never had nothing.
Callow youth: Yea?
Whey faced girl: Always had shit luck… so i feel so happy for her.
Callow youth: Yea?
Whey faced girl: It’s about time something lucky came her way.
Callow youth: Yea?
Whey faced girl: She never had anything, then her cousin got decapitated on the motorway.
Callow youth: Yea?
Whey faced girl: Yea! she got the compensation. he had no one else to leave it to. I’m so pleased for her.

Callow youth: Yea.

Darkersideofbridgetjones said...

You lot, who ever you are, one person probably, with multiple personality disorder - can you start appreciating my art.

The Hitch said...

thats your political career over, that or i get to sell that to the NOTW in a few years time.

Oliver Gosling said...

hunglikearat,

Shouldn't you credit Modo with your little entry?