Free Ten Storey Love Song by Richard Milward Page B

disappear down her minge-hole. Georgie aahs. It’s a bit annoying getting shagged straight after a gruelling shift at work, and it’s a shame the sex organs have to be so close to the poo organs – they can really stink sometimes. And the same goes for Bobby – he hasn’t showered his mouldy sausage for a while, and she decides not to suck him off. She kisses his whiffy-fanny lips instead. And now for a cameo appearance from Mr Condom! He comes leaping out of his packaging, then Bobby and Georgie jump around gleefully on top of each other for about half an hour. It’s intense! Bobby finds Mr Condom annoying though – he’s a bit like an over-attentive waiter on your first date, but Georgie’s scared of STDs and small children and she insists on him being there. Georgie’s incredibly cautious about everything – she just wants a lovely comfortable life with no big shocks or scares, whereas Bobby favours a mad look-Mam-no-hands! sort of life. But whatever, the sex is still great. Bobby gets his own back on Mr Condom by suffocating him with white custard, then he screws him up in the bin with all the other gritty Mr Condoms. He goes for a wee in the bathroom – a foamy spunky one – then frog-jumps next to Georgie and swings his arms round her four or five times like Stretch Armstrong or just someone really really in love with their girlfriend. Over in the bin, Mr Condom sighs. Georgie’s feeling a bit cold now all in the nude, and she gets changed into an old fairy costume and guzzles down a few jelly-beans. Her favourites from the Jelly Belly range are Peach, Plum and Juicy Pear – it makes her feel like she’s eating up the tower blocks. ‘Dessert?’ she enquires, throwing Bobby one. Bobby nods, then he nuzzles her neck and says he loves her and Georgie grins and says it too. ‘I’m so proud of you, hun!’ she squeals. Bobby the Artist scours the carpet for a post-fuck fag, but all the packs are empty, and he hasn’t got the guts to ask Georgie for a borrow. Money, you’re such a pain! On top of selling canvases, occasionally Bobby gets commissions to paint murals for libraries or hospitals or kids’ homes, but it’s such a chore having to do it sober – the one time he dropped acid painting the Accident & Emergency, Bobby’s brush spewed a load of porno doctors and nurses with syringes in their heads and patients racing naked on medicine cabinets. A day later it was covered sick Infirmary Green again. Bobby blinks, bingeing up a rollie out the stinky ashtray. He hopes to God this Lewis magics him some money soon. The last ‘real job’ Bobby ever had was working the fork-lift trucks at the B&Q Warehouse on the Portrack Lane Ind. Est., stacking bits of wood and garden furniture, drinking cups of tea and listening to the Fall’s ‘Industrial Estate’ on his dinner-break. Surely to fuck he can get by without fags and drugs for just a little bit. He’s got paintings to paint! Wheezing on the old rollie, Bobby the Artist pulls on his boxers again then washes his one-inch DIY brush and mixes up peach-pink on the pocked palette. To get peachy pink, you need three parts Cadmium Red to two parts Titanium White to one part Yellow Ochre. Then comes the tricky bit: applying it to the Angels’ lips and cheeks without making them look like absolute harlots. Watching him work, Georgie straightens the white tutu, wondering who the hell all the girls are but she’s not jealous. She has a few more Jelly Bellies, then plops through to the bathroom to give her minge a good old clean-out and sort her hair. She likes Mr Condom, but she hates his latex aftershave. In the front room she hears Bob put on My Bloody Valentine – lots of fuzzy-wuzzy songs perfect after a shag or during a painting. ‘Loveless’ actually reminds Bobby of his ex-girlfriend Gabrielle – the sex between them was great too but without much emotional content (to be honest, he found her pretentious and boring), and he used to enjoy putting