Peanut lives about 30 yards from the pub.
He is called Peanut because he had
A small head when he was a kid
And not because he has a small dick.
He comes to the pub three or four times a week
To see the same ten/eleven people.
He fits air conditioning units four days a week
And Friday is his day off.
He offers me Cocaine and Speed
And can probably get anything you want.
I tell him I’m not interested and he laughs
And asks me if I am a policeman,
Before telling me it was a joke.
He will keep coming to the pub
Three or four times a week
Until he dies, or somebody kills him.
“It will have been a good life,” he says,
Before asking me, “We don’t usually see people
Like you in here, did you get lost
On the way somewhere else?”
Words by Simon Linington