Awesome Chris, I've enjoyed all of these so far. This one struck a particularly homely nerve with me, though. I've never paid for sex, but from the age of 12 to 19 I lived with my old man. He was an ex con ex addict who worked in drug services for years but relapsed when I was a kid. He used crack on and off but consistently heroin and an IV diamorphine script. For many of those years he also for want of a better word 'pimped' his various 'girlfriends', sometimes multiple at once. So my formative years were spent living with these kinds of young women, some of whome were smoking hot, i might add. Sadly he passed away in '07 when I was 19, after a relatively quiet couple of years maintaining on his script and tenants super with the odd bit of brown along the way. His liver finally packed up. There were no whores, guns, robberies, or too much madness in those last 2 years thankfully. I had used various party drugs and a hell of a lot of hash and skunk since age 11 but at 19 when he passed, my heroin career began. Which for a couple of sustained periods in the last 14 years involved a lot of crack, and darts. I've slept in park bushes with my dog, inherited and sold property, and everything in between over the last 14 years. I still smoke a bit, a functioning addict you might say. But have a stable home with a missus, nice car and 2 wonderful kids despite that. Its not an easy juggle, I must say. I do hope to be rid of the little monkey on my back soon, haven't found the balls to cop it yet, though. I've watched and enjoyed your channel for years Dangerfield, I miss your produced videos, you made some gold mate. I wish you the best with your writing and look forward to being able to purchase a copy of your first novel✌🏻
Hello MB - wow - what a ride. You'll only stop using when you want to - that's the bottom line. It's odd that the children of addicts become addicts quite frequently. You'd think it would have the opposite effect. Thanks for your very kind words about the writing, I think you'll like the novel, it's not about using, it's about stopping. Best wishes and thanks for reading.
I have never had sex with a prostitute. However, as a young man of about 20 i lived with my first serious girlfriend in Southend in a small flat we bought together around the back of the notorious "York Road" where prostitutes plied their trade. I often used the nearby launderette across the road from me where they hung about waiting for tricks and Johns or when i walked my partners miniature sheppy dog down to the seafront in the evenings with a joint blazing as one does. I would pass these ladies of the night and was regularly accosted by a few of these colourful half dressed, micro miniskirted, zombie like characters. After about 6 months of seeing these ladies of ill repute, we would chat and they soon realised i was not going to become a customer but instead just an OKish guy that would let them have the odd spliff and a bit of friendly banter. They told me tales of strange men with varying desires or perversions and constant hassle with the police and nights in cells where they would cluck for their methadone. There was one Scottish lady called Mary who later told me that she was not only addicted to the Brown but also HIV positive, she was so emaciated and anorexic looking that my heart bled for her situation and i helped and looked out for her when i could. She would often hop into my car in Winter as i some times drove when it was especially cold. We would chat and Mary could warm her Skeletal bones in my warm car on freezing mid winter evenings. I would later as time went on be invited to her ground floor flat for a coffee or a wee dram in exchange for an 1/16th of double zero or the odd wrap of Billy left over from my party hard weekends. However one week she was gone and i later found out from the other street girls that she had collapsed and died. Mary was only 29, her pimp had put her window through and beaten her to a pulp leading to her having a brain hemorrage just a few days later. I always remember on occasion a couple of these older ladies would offer me freebie sex as they said it would make a change to have a young good looking guy instead of the usual married older men and smelly builders who kerb crawled in their vans on their way back from work before going home to their partners . I never once reciprocated, free or paid as i found their company to be of more value, to me they were intriguing, honest, genuine although tragic and gritty and their lives so different from mine and full of Pathos. I see both sides to prostitution and the needs of both parties are obviously met with the girls often believing they are a service keeping certain sorts of men often violent, dangerous types away from regular society.
Any girl working for a pimp in the traditional sense (not like Eliza and her girls) lives a life of danger and violence, and the law has everything to do with it. Mostly addicts, mostly sexually abused, trauma all the way. I had similar friendships with load of working girls and would always bail them out with some H so they didn't have to work while withdrawing. Most of the time they'd give me some back once they'd earned their money but I didn't care if they didn't. They have fallen through so many cracks in society they deserved a break here and there. You took a risk getting them in your car. "I was just getting her out of the cold, officer" you're nicked. Thanks for reading, Mike.
Doozy of a story. I can't believe YOU are still alive. I mean I drink and smoke but the things you have put your willy in? You are a living legend. The things you ingested? Almost impossible you are writing about it, but the most perfect thing you can do to semi-redeem it all. Good work and thanks.
The more I read these shorts the more I look forward to the novel. I have a strange conflict in being jealous of the interesting drug fuelled life you have lead compared to my fairly staid existence . Which lifestyle do I prefer 🤔
Hello martin, sorry this is so late, I have only just seen this while re-reading the comments. Remember, these stories are the bits - or at least themes of the bits between a whole lot of Hell, insanity, drama and real danger - as well as a lot of casualties around me that didn't deserve it. I regret nothing, it's a waste of time, but I have had similar jealousies, such as when a heroin dealer once said to me "I've never been into drugs, I don't even drink', and I just wanted to be him, or at least wanted to have that part of him.
Thanks for reading Sarah - send it to all your friends to cheer them up with the gloopy underbelly of human interaction. But yeah, they were dark times. I didn't dwell on it in the story, but at the time I really thought there was a good chance they wouldn't start breathing again, and not only would I have lost a friend, I'd be in a wee bit of trouble.
One of the best story gems so far that's for sure. Love the nitty gritty drug and sex stories Bukowski would be proud of this. Bet you have lots more stories from you time in Soho even just looking out your window - would be good to hear.
Hello Adam - thanks for reading and leaving a comment. And I'll take 'one of the best...' any day of the week. Lived in two properties in Soho, and yes, it was non stop madness in those days. It's cleaned up beyond itself now, but it's not a museum, so I guess we have to accept it. Thanks again.
Nice one Dave, sorry the reply is so short but it appears falling asleep on my keyboard so many times has damaged it. I know what you mean about the magic realism, for stories so brutal, it's quite gentle and dreamlike overall. That was the hope anyway. Thanks for reading and leaving a comment.
Awesome Chris, I've enjoyed all of these so far. This one struck a particularly homely nerve with me, though. I've never paid for sex, but from the age of 12 to 19 I lived with my old man. He was an ex con ex addict who worked in drug services for years but relapsed when I was a kid. He used crack on and off but consistently heroin and an IV diamorphine script. For many of those years he also for want of a better word 'pimped' his various 'girlfriends', sometimes multiple at once. So my formative years were spent living with these kinds of young women, some of whome were smoking hot, i might add. Sadly he passed away in '07 when I was 19, after a relatively quiet couple of years maintaining on his script and tenants super with the odd bit of brown along the way. His liver finally packed up. There were no whores, guns, robberies, or too much madness in those last 2 years thankfully. I had used various party drugs and a hell of a lot of hash and skunk since age 11 but at 19 when he passed, my heroin career began. Which for a couple of sustained periods in the last 14 years involved a lot of crack, and darts. I've slept in park bushes with my dog, inherited and sold property, and everything in between over the last 14 years. I still smoke a bit, a functioning addict you might say. But have a stable home with a missus, nice car and 2 wonderful kids despite that. Its not an easy juggle, I must say. I do hope to be rid of the little monkey on my back soon, haven't found the balls to cop it yet, though. I've watched and enjoyed your channel for years Dangerfield, I miss your produced videos, you made some gold mate. I wish you the best with your writing and look forward to being able to purchase a copy of your first novel✌🏻
Hello MB - wow - what a ride. You'll only stop using when you want to - that's the bottom line. It's odd that the children of addicts become addicts quite frequently. You'd think it would have the opposite effect. Thanks for your very kind words about the writing, I think you'll like the novel, it's not about using, it's about stopping. Best wishes and thanks for reading.
I have never had sex with a prostitute. However, as a young man of about 20 i lived with my first serious girlfriend in Southend in a small flat we bought together around the back of the notorious "York Road" where prostitutes plied their trade. I often used the nearby launderette across the road from me where they hung about waiting for tricks and Johns or when i walked my partners miniature sheppy dog down to the seafront in the evenings with a joint blazing as one does. I would pass these ladies of the night and was regularly accosted by a few of these colourful half dressed, micro miniskirted, zombie like characters. After about 6 months of seeing these ladies of ill repute, we would chat and they soon realised i was not going to become a customer but instead just an OKish guy that would let them have the odd spliff and a bit of friendly banter. They told me tales of strange men with varying desires or perversions and constant hassle with the police and nights in cells where they would cluck for their methadone. There was one Scottish lady called Mary who later told me that she was not only addicted to the Brown but also HIV positive, she was so emaciated and anorexic looking that my heart bled for her situation and i helped and looked out for her when i could. She would often hop into my car in Winter as i some times drove when it was especially cold. We would chat and Mary could warm her Skeletal bones in my warm car on freezing mid winter evenings. I would later as time went on be invited to her ground floor flat for a coffee or a wee dram in exchange for an 1/16th of double zero or the odd wrap of Billy left over from my party hard weekends. However one week she was gone and i later found out from the other street girls that she had collapsed and died. Mary was only 29, her pimp had put her window through and beaten her to a pulp leading to her having a brain hemorrage just a few days later. I always remember on occasion a couple of these older ladies would offer me freebie sex as they said it would make a change to have a young good looking guy instead of the usual married older men and smelly builders who kerb crawled in their vans on their way back from work before going home to their partners . I never once reciprocated, free or paid as i found their company to be of more value, to me they were intriguing, honest, genuine although tragic and gritty and their lives so different from mine and full of Pathos. I see both sides to prostitution and the needs of both parties are obviously met with the girls often believing they are a service keeping certain sorts of men often violent, dangerous types away from regular society.
Any girl working for a pimp in the traditional sense (not like Eliza and her girls) lives a life of danger and violence, and the law has everything to do with it. Mostly addicts, mostly sexually abused, trauma all the way. I had similar friendships with load of working girls and would always bail them out with some H so they didn't have to work while withdrawing. Most of the time they'd give me some back once they'd earned their money but I didn't care if they didn't. They have fallen through so many cracks in society they deserved a break here and there. You took a risk getting them in your car. "I was just getting her out of the cold, officer" you're nicked. Thanks for reading, Mike.
My mate lived in a bedsit down York Road.
Doozy of a story. I can't believe YOU are still alive. I mean I drink and smoke but the things you have put your willy in? You are a living legend. The things you ingested? Almost impossible you are writing about it, but the most perfect thing you can do to semi-redeem it all. Good work and thanks.
'Semi redeem' - I'll take what I can get, cheers, Mark, thanks for reading.
The more I read these shorts the more I look forward to the novel. I have a strange conflict in being jealous of the interesting drug fuelled life you have lead compared to my fairly staid existence . Which lifestyle do I prefer 🤔
Hello martin, sorry this is so late, I have only just seen this while re-reading the comments. Remember, these stories are the bits - or at least themes of the bits between a whole lot of Hell, insanity, drama and real danger - as well as a lot of casualties around me that didn't deserve it. I regret nothing, it's a waste of time, but I have had similar jealousies, such as when a heroin dealer once said to me "I've never been into drugs, I don't even drink', and I just wanted to be him, or at least wanted to have that part of him.
You should have got in the act? Some blokes would have paid top dollar for the cuckold experience.
Oof.
What a story Chris.
Thanks for reading Sarah - send it to all your friends to cheer them up with the gloopy underbelly of human interaction. But yeah, they were dark times. I didn't dwell on it in the story, but at the time I really thought there was a good chance they wouldn't start breathing again, and not only would I have lost a friend, I'd be in a wee bit of trouble.
One of the best story gems so far that's for sure. Love the nitty gritty drug and sex stories Bukowski would be proud of this. Bet you have lots more stories from you time in Soho even just looking out your window - would be good to hear.
Hello Adam - thanks for reading and leaving a comment. And I'll take 'one of the best...' any day of the week. Lived in two properties in Soho, and yes, it was non stop madness in those days. It's cleaned up beyond itself now, but it's not a museum, so I guess we have to accept it. Thanks again.
That closing sentiment is magic, Chris. Best piece you’ve written so far.
Nice one, Ciarán - and thanks for reading. I never know how a piece will go down, so for an early comment it's encouraging.
Nice one - Thanks for reading.
Nice one Dave, sorry the reply is so short but it appears falling asleep on my keyboard so many times has damaged it. I know what you mean about the magic realism, for stories so brutal, it's quite gentle and dreamlike overall. That was the hope anyway. Thanks for reading and leaving a comment.