the night is young it’s not even eight o’clock and the perfect couple next door are yelling again, joined by the persistent scream of their baby which is like a sine wave used in acoustic labs, but breaking up ever so slightly, and a plate smashes against a wall, and then the stereo is turned on full volume strangely to Justin Bieber, all the while their white BMW SUV rests glamorously in the front drive yet slightly stained by the leaves of my gumtree of which the man complains about, in mornings or evenings, when he is in his suit going to or from work and approaches me over the front fence as I attend to my herb garden and subtly demands I cut the gumtree down into little pieces and use for firewood – think of all the money I’d save for my combustion heater he’s suggested more than a couple of times – his presence is a like a dark black hole on the edge of where I live but his wife is a glamorous young lady even when her baby welled inside her abdomen like a tiny moon of hell threatening to destroy all life on earth. nearly eight p.m. and the sun approaches the ocean that is drowning in plastic and oil, my beard catches the gully breeze and jiggles like Father Christmas with a sack full of presents which will not save you. daylight still reveals the false, the bad and the ugly and I am not even half way through a carton of mid strength beer. sitting on the porch I pick my nose and flick it into the creeper. swig. burp. feel my fat stomach and count how many days it has been since I was at the gym. sixteen perhaps, my nemesis, the gym, the pinnacle of modern error, where it is a free for all, grown men almost kiss their image in the mirror. try different angles with their face, torso, buttocks. stroke their stubble, I kid you not. worse than women. male vanity with full impunity although I make a point to glower at them, my hate sent to them with my eyes. my eyes much like the cattle’s eyes that stare at you as you overtake an animal transportation truck heading to the abattoir as you pick jerky from your teeth with the corner of an envelope whilst the radio is playing another insipid track.