So it’s ten o’clock and I’m sitting here in my trench, sick to my stomach, stinking of smoke and last week’s sweat and weed and coffee and bad breath and I need to make some money but not got a lot left to trade from what I started out with and pissed away along the road, all those uphill miles and the cowardly decisions and the wishful thinking hollow as a cracked bell. Time is always running out and I need to make money gotta sell something or kill someone or steal something or win the lottery – something radical, something quick, something that requires no persistence, something that can be pulled out of a hat only to reveal itself as a severed head, tongue flapping, eyes milky, the ridiculousness of death. And I think to myself, what a wonderful world. And tell myself, this is not my beautiful wife. And I think to myself, death’s going to come along like an eternally patient parent and tidy all this mess away at the end of the day. When we’re done playing we can go to bed and sleep soundly. Until then, wolves bite me in my sleep. And the clocks do their thing and I’m like a fucking dog nowadays when I see the postman, bringing trouble to my door, anything that knocks on my door sounds like trouble or someone lost. I need a quick fix. I need a handy solution. I need something I can coax into spontaneous generation, out of shit and semen like Clive Barker’s Lix. Like wolves, Clive Barker has bitten me in my dreams. Not in a gay way. He’s one of the few writers whose words have followed me into sleep and woven themselves through my dreams. He’s written some shit as well, to be honest, but his shit’s effortlessly superior to so many others’ best efforts that that’s forgiven. Wandering thoughts. Useless. No way to yoke them into a productive assemblage. Rob a bank. I’d get caught. Almost definitely. I don’t have a gun – and anything else is pretty much laughable. I don’t have the demeanour. Nobody would ever take me seriously without a gun. I guess that kind of thinking leads to hundreds of people being shot in school and workplaces every year. I’ve lost interest now.