Friday, July 22, 2005

Ban Backpackers Now!

If today's bomb attacks get anything done about backpackers, great. I remember numerous times some loud-talking Scandinavian whirling round on an Underground platform and their enormous backpack almost sending me in front of an oncoming train.

"Yass! Jurgen, Lurn-durn iss sooo kool, we murst send Heidi a postkarten - Vish youver heer, lurve Jurgen..."

This is just how it happens - :

Blam! The top part of the backpack catches me on the side of the head, knocking me off balance. The lower part of the backpack features a metal frame. This has speared spitefully into my solar plexus, knocking all the air out of my lungs. As the bobble-hatted student jabbers obliviously, I am engaged in a life and death struggle to avoid pitching forward on to the tracks, just in time to be squished to bits by an oncoming train. It is a long lonely fight for survival, undertaken without humour. Somehow, I win, and regain my footing.

This experience became so common (and I swear I was not doing it as some kind of way to achieve orgasm - a danger junkie). It reached the point where I would carry a "Non-Suicide Note" with me, so that if I came to grief my parents and friends would know it was an accident. I didn't want to think about people saying, "Yeah, he looked kind of sad when he left, but he didn't seem that depressed..."

I wanted them to know it was more likely a Norwegian wot killed me.


Here comes Dylan Thomas to set the world right.

And Death shall have no Dominion
And death shall have no dominion.
Dead mean naked they shall be one
With the man in the wind and the west moon;
When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,
They shall have stars at elbow and foot;
Though they go mad they shall be sane,
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;
Though lovers be lost love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion.

And death shall have no dominion.
Under the windings of the sea
They lying long shall not die windily;
Twisting on racks when sinews give way,
Strapped to a wheel, yet they shall not break;
Faith in their hands shall snap in two,
And the unicorn evils run them through;
Split all ends up they shan't crack;
And death shall have no dominion.

And death shall have no dominion.
No more may gulls cry at their ears
Or waves break loud on the seashores;
Where blew a flower may a flower no more
Lift its head to the blows of the rain;
Through they be mad and dead as nails,
Heads of the characters hammer through daisies;
Break in the sun till the sun breaks down,
And death shall have no dominion.
there's audio of Dylan Thomas reading this poem here


Post a Comment

<< Home