johnny was caught red handed with a big mac and a large vanilla milk shake…he chumped eagerly on that junk at midnight without his spectacles on, while we watched from the other side of oxford street pissing ourselves laughing.
like most of us, he’s a bit squeamish. the idea of little lambs and melancholy cows being dragged off to slaughter houses is something he wrestles with to this day. more than anything he craves the love of the interesting ones with their interesting books and left field music, but in truth johnny’s a dyed in the wool lower middle jim jim raised on pork, mainstream pop music, and all roads keep leading him back there.
it’s unfortunate he hasn’t made a full flight over into greenland..it means his life is neither arsehole nor watercress… his time with those aliens from the other side of the tracks has thrown the bland conformity of his roots into too strong a focus, so he’s forever browbeating other brothers like the hypocrite he is, and when he ventures over to where he’d like to be, his taste buds simply get the better of him.