It’s getting dark out here. Here in the streets of Blackville Under Night.Is that some hoodlums in a black car, parked under the broken street light? Better smash up their car with an iron bar and call it a ‘pre-emptive strike’.

The smashed up car drives away in shock. Into the shadows.

I’m fucking going home.

It’s still dark out here and there’s too much life in my detached house. Here in my rented abode where thirty mindless teenagers are having a rowdy party.

“You’ve all got one minute to get out of my house before I beat the lot of you within an inch of your BOLLOCKING lives.”

Thirty mindless teenagers scarper, leaving beer cans and half-eaten pizzas on the floor.

Then those pea-brained-fucking-half-wits start partying loudly in the house next door.

I’ve still got my iron bar.

Thirty party going teenagers get a painful lesson in manners.

Sometime later I go to the cinema and turn my back to the screen because I can’t get enough of the dark…or nauseous *Nancy Nicholson who wants a snog. We writhe our tongues for a moment of passion, I pull back in a gasp, just before Nancy vomits on my chin and I feel her last meal cascade down my front.

Somebody turn off the projector, I’ve had enough.