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Some moron has decided to cut back on library opening times, without consulting me, and this left me in a predicament. Outside (11 May) in the heat I sit on a bench like a desperate alcoholic waiting for opening time, you would think I have enough time for a prawn sandwich.
One bite in and a decrepit old man in his 90s hobbles over and parks his arse next to mine and proceeds to scratch his chest. The scratching I can cope with, it’s the urine stench coming from his colostomy bag tucked inside his trousers I find hard.
With 8 minutes to go Josef arrives and to my disgust makes a beeline for me. Still reeling from the urine stench I sit there with half a prawn sandwich with one end bitten off praying that Josef internally combusts. He smiles, providing evidence that he has recently had another tooth booted in. He then accurately observes that I am eating a sandwich and I would have given him full marks if he had realised that the sight of him was making me thoroughly sick. This cretin wants to be my friend and I want to commit cold-bloodied murder. He then gives me an update on the heatwave in Romania, the typhoon in Japan and a recent operation on a friend in Golders Green. I ask if he has plans of returning to Bucharest, I pray he would say yes, later that day and never to return, but he responds by saying that there were no benefits and you have to get a job in Romania to survive, no fuck Josef!
With 2 minutes to go the masses have arrived and have hovered around the sliding doors. Josef asks if I’m going into the library, I just want to castrate him. The old man, suddenly alert begins to rise, and in the process releases an alarming defecating stench.
Left behind by my 2 new friends, I look at the half-eaten prawn sandwich not once but twice and decide that there is only one place for it and lob it into an already over-stuffed bin. Reluctantly I follow the odd couple in.
There’s an odd sense of expectation today (3 June), perhaps it’s because the library is overflowing, maybe it’s because Mr Intense has entered the podium. He has an acute Obsessive Compulsive Disorder condition that’s incurable, he has a tendency to tidy the podium before he can settle down, he also has a clinical need to align chairs to tables and is drawn towards examining the contents of bins. Today he has a major freak out and attacks Josef, the Romanian backgammon player. He accuses him of being really annoying, which he is, but you don’t say that to Josef, because more than anything Josef is part of the fixtures and fittings, and is quite insane himself. Mr Intense is now sitting opposite me, he can’t settle, there’s something bugging him, he keeps glancing over to Josef, its more of a glare, it seems to suggest that if you upset me once more, just the once then I’ll no choice but to rip your larynx out, he really is that intense!
After a while he does settle and I begin to observe this freak. He appears to be settled but he is still on edge, I can feel his toes drumming on the carpeted floor. Not only does he have dandruff, lots of, do people still have dandruff? I thought that was something like leprosy and smallpox, kind of just went away, anyway as well as the dandruff, he has a very peculiar hairline, it kind of starts just above the eyebrows, and I’m trying to work out whether he’s wearing a very thick black t–shirt under his shirt or if he’s just lycanthropically hirsute, perhaps his mother mated with a llama. There’s also a constant film of sweat below his nose, which is disturbing. I have to say it once more though, I’ve never seen anyone so, well, intense!
Mad Woman In Red Coat arrives early again today (2 June). She has a look of complete insanity about her and that’s got a lot to do with her coat buttons, which are enormous, clown-like. The eyes are also dilated, is she on prescribed drugs? She sits down next to a retired stranger by the comfy chairs and newspapers and talks about her new shoes.
I am alone on the podium and it’s approaching 10am, there’s no Josef, no Mr Intense and no Big Nose. I begin to feel insecure, where is everybody?
The library staff members are also tense but also hyperactive. They laugh nervously, slam books into racks and jog when they can walk. Mrs Runningaround quickly glances at me as I bite into a banana muffin; maybe she to is wondering where all the psychopaths are?
By 10.30am normal service is resumed, library staff are happy, I’m happy. Josef appears, grinning, and quickly sets up his laptop and breakfast before heading to the toilet for his shower. Within 10 minutes Mr Intense makes an appearance and launches onto a swivel chair. Soon someone is working on the rusty microfiche viewer, another person causes the photocopier to malfunction and an Estonian couple arrive, inquiring about accommodation for the night. The library is quickly turning into the party scene from “One Flew Over The Cuckoos Nest,” you have to be here to fully appreciate the mayhem. There’s only one solution, AC/DC’s “Highway To Hell” blasting at full volume!
A new psychopath hits the podium today (31 May), it’s Mad Woman In Red Coat. The first thing that strikes me about the coat is the buttons, well they are not actually buttons; they are fucking teacup saucers and Jesus what a mouth! She spent over 20 minutes today hammering on to a Library Assistant about her retarded son who likes music and whether she can have half an hour on the Internet. She only wants to check her email because she is waiting for a free token to come through, for what I have absolutely no idea and to be honest I would take great delight in shoving that token right into her gob. She’s hovering around, reminds me a little of the rabbit on the wire at greyhound track racing, what is she up to? Ok, she’s gone for a piss now.
She spends over 15 minutes in there, which is not a pleasant place to spend 15 minutes in. There’s never any paper, and it’s where Josef, shaves, washes, brushes his teeth, pisses and shits, so enough said!
She’s soon out and about again and talking to random people and laughing out loud to comments that just aren’t even funny, for example, Mad Woman In Red Coat says to Library Assistant: “I see you are stacking books onto that shelf.” The Library Assistant wittily responds with “yes,” at which point Mad Woman In Red Coat, finding hidden meaning in the response, responds with uncontrollable belly laughs. My instinct tells me she should have been slaughtered at birth.
Today (30 May) Josef has surpassed himself. I didn’t think anyone could pick their ears with such burrowing intensity, but he has, and I feel thoroughly sick because he has managed to extract the last sliver of wax, the bit that separates the brain from the outside world, sniffs it curiously like a baboon then flicks it away, in the general direction of a rather startled AS student who, by the way looks not unattractive in red hair, pale skin, intelligent black glasses and a lilac dress – I’m guessing she’s well over 18!
It’s another day (29 May).
He’s just rolled double 6 by the sounds of it; celebrations are imminent.
Mayhem ensues.
Noise, lots of.
Can someone please drive a stake through his arsehole until his liver drops out of his gob?
He’s opposite me again today (28 May) and he’s obviously had some fresh clothes donated to him. Jesus after ten minutes he sitting back and ripping nine fucks out of a baguette, an Orang Utan would eat with greater etiquette. Oh God, how am I gonna get any work done today, he’s now cleaning bits of crust from his tooth gaps with his fingers, then he starts drilling his ears, quite incredible! He just won’t stop fuckin fidgeting, the whole desk is shaking, if I could just strangle him I’m sure people would clap and cheer, I would be the local hero, I can see the front page of The Observer: “Romanian gypsy & psychopath murdered by local hero vigilante.” The baguette by the way is a whole Sainsbury’s baguette – no filling – just baguette – oh just seen the yellow label – must be from yesterday, makes sense – and its reduced to 11p – and why 11p? Why not 10p or 15p? Now he’s started on his ear again. Please, please, please eardrum, please burst – ok even with my earplugs firmly wedged in, listening to the Doves blasting their tracks from “The Last Broadcast” – I can hear the sucking noises he’s making - in my fantasy his spleen is ripped out and shoved down his gullet. Surely his eardrums can’t take this level of abuse, when will they bleed?
Obviously there is no one out there that’s gonna believe this but he has just pulled out a tiny plastic bottle and has begun blowing bubbles – Jesus Fucking Christ! – Oh by the way the baguette has almost been devoured right down to the last few crumbs, a few specs have landed on my laptop, but to be honest, I’m beyond caring. I am close to throwing his face onto the floor and stamping on it, then ramming a cattle prod through his exposed eardrum.
30 minutes have now elapsed and he’s now ripping out the insides of a different loaf, a seeded bloomer if I’m not mistaken. I’m also pretty sure he’s not actually chewing anything – he’s just shoving bread into his mouth like one of those mincer type things that turns chunks of meat into mince meat – if only he could shove his head into one.
Another day of hopeless distractions.
