Go Easy

I phoned my neighbour, Niall, last night to see if he fancied pints. 

Standing in a bar drinking pints of black blood seemed like the thing to do on the day that John Martyn died. Unfortunately, Niall said yes so I was obliged to drag my white ass out into the rainy night at half past nine of the clock.

Later, before climbing fourpintishly into bed, I put on Bless The Weather, my favourite John Martyn album. As I lay listening to the opening track, the beautiful Go Easy (advice John never, ever heeded) , there may have been a manly sob and I coughed to cover it up. That's all I remember until morning.

I woke feeling bad. I climbed eightpintishly out of bed, thinking:

Guinness : what the fuck do they put in that shit?