The Beach Diaries 2012 – #29

Previous: #1, #2, #3, #4, #5, #6, #7, #8, #9, #10, #11, #12, #13, #14, #15, #16, #17, #18, #19, #20, #21, #22, #23, #24, #25, #26, #27, #28

* Increasingly in putting these out for public consumption, I feel like I’m playing with fire. I woke up to a search hit on my blog for the phrase ‘suck me off in a Littlehampton toilet’, and although there’s more than one toilet in Littlehampton, and being sucked off appears to be a popular leisure activity among the penised, you wouldn’t get bad odds on the notion of Mr. 46 Grey reading all about himself, with murderous rage brewing above his morning throbber. Last year’s Beach Diaries seemed so carefree, as I scribbled with impunity about Ron’s priapic gambolling, and my own mad crushing on a lifeguard, with zero qualms about putting it all out there. The price of (incredibly mild) success is that I find myself worrying about the real people who’ve become unwitting characters, and their potentially feeling violated as they’re trotted out in this circus. Meanwhile, an angry cottager doubtless plans to hunt me down and suck all the life right out of my william, until I’m naught but an empty sack of dead, deflated skin.

* A woman finishes up a phone call, pulls forward the front of her stretch-pants, and deposits the phone inside, nestling it down, right next to her va-jay-jay.

* Thai brides are a recurring feature of this summer. While it’s cynical, and possibly racist, to assume that every 50+ Englishman with a young Asian partner has bought her off Amazon, it’s probably a safe bet all the same. In all those couples, you’ll never see one where the man isn’t clinging to her ferociously, with barely concealed terror that she may get away. These are the hugs of men who’d never loved, men who dreamed their lives away waiting on that great, heart-and-stars romance that never came. Their friends, brothers, colleagues — they all settled down years ago, and now their wives are as old as they are. That, more than the death of their own solitude, is the biggest victory these men take, from doomed relationships which won’t ever rise above a dead-eyed, smiling Stockholm Syndrome.

2GETHER 4EVER (with bonus Louis Theroux)

* A guy on a bench, slurring beneath a fedora, calls out as I walk by.

“Geez’, you ain’t got 20p, have yer?”

“I’m a writer,” I imagine myself saying, causing him to nod empathically and press £20 into my palm.

* Overheard conversation snippets. One woman to another.

“Oh, of course, that’s next week! I shall have to get an outfit. Do you want a lift?”

“I can’t. That’s my chemo day.”

* Behind his wife’s back, a dad pretends to fuck a bike.

* It’s cold today, and there’s not many people about, so my mind wanders. I don’t know what makes me think this, but —

There was once a husband and wife. Both were very shy and polite, and in the forty years they spent together, each never once farted in front of the other. One day, it became too much, and the four decades of farts packed into the wife’s insides could take it no more. She dropped dead, right there in the kitchen, from internal blow-orf trauma. The distraught husband knelt down, ear to her mouth, waiting, hoping. But nothing. One last time, he cried out her name, but dead wives cannot hear. He sighed deeply. Then he did a fart that lasted for a week.

* “I know you’re very busy,” says a posh lady, who approaches me from across the grass, “but would you mind taking a photo of all of us?” As I snap the pic for the group of twenty-odd, instructing them to smile, I don’t mention how, yes, I was busy. Busy writing a story about an old lady who died from farts.

* A new piece of graffiti on the side of the shelter reads:

you can’t ‘Polish’ a turd

I assume they’re making some kind of clunky point about immigration, but I don’t know what it is.

* A cheery elderly lady shuffles past, humming a happy, meandering tune, with bright yellow Kanye West-style shutter-shades over her eyes.

The complete collection (plus appendices) of 2011’s Beach Diaries are available to buy for the Amazon Kindle for £1.99/$2.99. If you don’t have a Kindle, Amazon have a free Kindle app for PC/Mac/phones/tablets, available right here.

The Beach Diaries 2011 on

The Beach Diaries 2011 on

~ by Stuart on August 21, 2012.

5 Responses to “The Beach Diaries 2012 – #29”

  1. I’ve been all depressed the past couple of days, and you’re part of the reason. BD is so great, so true, so free in its flow that it makes me wistful for the writing I used to do before I was stuck drawing crappy cartoons. Bastard.

    • See, and you (at least I think it was you) yelled at me for not doing any more 10 Minute Comics. SEE?! IT’S ONE OR THE OTHER, NOT BOTH!

  2. You cannot ‘polish’ a turd but a slippery one can leave you ‘Russian’.

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