"Evens" Book Extract #1

[One of a series of extracts from Leon Blackwell’s award-winning autobiography “Evens”. The warped diary of Old Lynn’s most revered living psychopath.]

Pages 1-2...

Shit Fuckhead. S.H.I.T. F.U.C.K.H.E.A.D. 12 letters. Evens. Excellent. Joey Sucks Cock. J.O.E.Y. S.U.C.K.S. C.O.C.K. 13 letters. Damn, that’s not so good. Another day, and another 20 minutes of my life wasted on unreliable buses in this derelict shelter, counting graffito letters of explicit diatribes. Dear God. Its only Tuesday, and yet another terrible mistake is on my mind. I was thinking about such exciting possibilities when the same old lime-green minibus trundled around the corner and, after some grinding and wheezing, it came to a juddering halt at this infernal bus shelter from hell.

The passengers’ familiar faces greeted me with an assortment of howls and disabled groans, signalling another day of tedious work. Looking out of a freshly licked window as we all made our way to the final destination I was suddenly struck dumb by the realisation that, although Cracktown had its glorious plans for regeneration set in stone, the first model – Old Lynn District v1.0beta – still has quite a lot of appeal to the regular commuter such as myself. I don’t know why people demand so much from buildings they never set foot in - everyone should learn to embrace decay these days; a dying town has infinitely more character than a pristine, revitalised, redesigned and redefined “Consumer Paradise”.

A rust-red industrial drum here, a ‘70’s-style psychedelic-kitsch Poundsaver shop there. Vodafone Mobile Phone premises next to the Westbanks of the Quay. A dried produce sieve-and-save on the horizon, anyone? Who couldn’t fall in love with this pre-cum jism of a demolitioner’s wet dream?

Finally it begins; 9 o’clock at the shop is a grim time indeed. In what other vocation do you have stranger’s unwashed underwear and softcore porn greeting you in their binliners each morning – for you to sift through with your bare hands and sell on to the great and good that very day. That old, unbelievable logic of a charity shop. On this particular day I found the following gems; “Jimmy Saville’s 1970 World of Pop” annual, a Betamax copy of a “Spit The Dog - Live Special”, recorded from BBC1 in 1984, and three blouses that would make a ragdoll blush.

You see, the problem is obvious and well-documented (but worth repeating here); people automatically assume that, as a charity shop chain, you will gratefully accept anything. In reality we bin (or take home) 50% of all donations. Let’s face it, stained doilies and Barbie Doll toilet roll covergowns have a strict shelf-life.

But I digress. So, its 9.00am ok, and I’m waiting for Gary to come in, as always, when I hear the bell go and look up towards the door. A small boy enters the shop and strides purposefully toward the counter. Towards ME. “Mummy says this stuff is for you. Some stuff from home” he says, with an infant lisp. He hands me two Tesco carrier bags, bulging with unseen treasures no doubt, and strides Nazi-like out of the door from whence he came.

I empty the bags onto, and around, the counter; an obligatory Evel Knievel doll tumbles out (Daddy’s), a 1985 My Little Pony annual (Mummy’s), several Readers Digest monthlies, a well-thumbed copy of Shogun (paperback, natch), a domino set, a Mastermind travel game, and other assorted pieces of worthless shit.

Obviously, this stuff is standard fare for the shop. Take, for instance, the Evel Knievel doll; the plastic stuntman originally had a motorbike and lurid red wheel charger. But, in this particular case, they have long gone. I’ve personally seen 27 Evel Knievel doll donations come into the shop – and only 5 have had all the accessories included (even the elusive helmet made of rubber). A staggering 13 dolls have had their cotton Star-suits ripped around the anus area before they arrive at the shop. Fuck knows what people get up to with them.

As it turned out, only one item from this bundle of joy was saved from the bin; a small magic trick set, complete with wand, eggcup, false eyeballs and blindfolds. Needless to say, I took the set home with me at the end of the day...

Leon Blackwell


“Evens” is available from all good bookshops now.
ISBN 1010 2020 1010 0102
£6.99 paperback.