more front than blackpool

More Front Than Blackpool

So why,

so sad

This isn’t just another shitty, teenage ditty

Sugarcoating, the fear and loathing

that will inevitably be the rise and fall of the class clown. This isn’t the demise

however I’ll let you know. Clowns like to have holidays too, usually to Skegness or

Blackpool. It’s not as bad as you think mind.

-actually I lied

The postcard-esque scenes of families having barbecues, the skies of blues

Lip smacking sticks of rock and gaudy souvenirs

You could see how the clown was tempted by this affair but

In reality it wasn’t at all like this (a common theme)

Reading a travel guide for Benidorm

Sold hook, line and sinker, the clown was on to a real winner

However, it’d mistakenly booked a static caravan for a weekend in Blackpool

instead

The clown had gotten too far ahead of itself

Well, how different can Benidorm and Blackpool be from each other

Blue coat entertainers baring false smiles - somewhat relatable, somewhat debatable

Static caravans with explicitly awful upholstery,

fireplaces which have never really worked only emitting a sickly shade of Irn Bru

The plastic garden furniture have always been staple to the static caravans. They go hand in hand.

Like bangers and mash. Myra and Ian. Plastic garden furniture and static caravans, rolls right off the tongue. (this is the bit where you say it out loud so you can see that it does, in fact, roll right off the tongue)

The clown was impressed, then again it doesn't take much to impress it

(jackpot, baby!)

Pursuing it’s adventure in the capital of kitsch

Avoiding trouble at all costs

It was safe

This seaside town resort was the clown’s

Last resort

The seventh day of the eleventh month

Seeking solace, substance and solvents.

Apply within. She wasn't asking for much, just to be entertained.

Not in a seedy way,

or a greedy

or needy way

In a different way.

Not to be the entertainer for the night.

On the seventh day of the eleventh month this same routine would repeat

and repeat

every year

Until the entertaining became unbearable.

However this annual event was shared, evenly distributed by another character, taking the weight off her shoulders.

You see, the need to entertain was in her bones, not in a showy-look-at-me way, or a need-for-attention way

it was the gateway to acceptance

She had cut every corner, poking fun at herself directly after the ‘Hi, nice to meet you’ or the ‘What’s your name?’ or ‘Where abouts are you from?’ or any other dry, uninventive greeting. There was no need for rudimentary small talk about the weather or death or whatever.

She wanted people to know she was funny. Burned the social interaction guidebook, re-wrote it, made it a best selling formula which stuck for years. People could never take the piss out of her because she’d always be the first one to it.

The only other thing which stuck with her for years was The Wall. Not the knots she’d learned at Scouts, nor any of the zodiac signs.

The Wall was to stay.

If you want to find out what’s behind these cold eyes,

You’ll just have to claw your way through this disguise.

These words had always stuck with her. It was often difficult to get through and understand what was behind The Wall. She didn’t really know herself what was behind The Wall. All she knew was that she had to tear down The Wall.

You see, as the seconds, days, months rolled around

bit by bit The Wall got shattered brick by brick.

Remaining level headed. These things don’t happen overnight. Time takes time she would whisper.

Meanwhile the clown was vacationing. The clown was having fun and did not want to return for quite some time.

Meanwhile, the protagonist here was slowly coming to terms with tearing down The Wall. It wasn’t anything quite like Hadrian’s wall. But it was her Wall.

she remained

confidence obtained

self awareness gained

she was unscathed

(if this were a pantomime, this is when the protagonist would kneel on the floor,

a harp will begin to play, followed by a single spotlight on the stage, smoke will float and then lift and now the glockenspiel kicks in, the audience are on the edge of their seats, the protagonist ready to take the cue and stand up tall and begins to bellow the hit song from the show)

___________________________________________________________________________

Dyfal donc a dyr y garreg

She was there all along

Her foolosophy wasn’t tainted

Throwing her rose tinted glasses

She continued entertaining but not by the same means as before

now the author of her rulebook twofold

The clown you ask?

Lovely time on holiday

It’ll be back one day

It never really went away

(the postcard is on its way)