Landlocked Submariner

The people of Blackburn were very generous in their praise at the The Central library last night, where Stephen Clayton, author of The art of being dead read from his novel. Steve and myself went to a pub for a drink before the event. It was about 7pm and after we got our drinks we were approached by a man who was having problems with his plaited legs. They were refusing all instructions and he weaved his way towards us. He'd popped out for a fag and on his return he couldn't locate his beer. It wasn't a big pub. This caused the Moose antennae to register the first signs of concern. We needn't have worried. His beer was found and he started to talk. And talk and talk. He told us his life story three times within five minutes. He'd been married six times, had been a submariner, loved women and told us he was crazy. He wasn't, he was pissed and had two teeth and held on to his beer like a premature baby does to life. We bade farewell and exited left. I'm wondering if this man will appear somewhere in Steve's next book. Imagination and observation unlike the exploitation of your children, Julie Myerson, are the bricks to build any good story.