Yeah mate yeah fucking can’t wait until we reach Earth 2.0 Abdul. They really were holding out on us with this starship technology eh? Fucking hell man who would have funk it eh? The Andromeda galaxy ay mate, shit, they managed to find an earth like planet among 100 trillion stars that’s beyond amazing man! Can’t wait until we get there ay Abdul lad. Only three days to go now, fucking love the architecture of this ship man, reminds me of the Bullring. You from Birmingham too mucka yeh? Delhi, oh yeah that down by Alum Rock yeah? Yeah, my grandad was the last white man in Washwood Heath, Korean War veteran as mad as March hare mate. Always used to go on about how he liked to bang the Korean chicks on sex swings, I think he seen a lot of action in Korea mate. Just not the kind of action he was being paid for though, you know what I mean Abdul son?

Dunno why they selected me to emigrate to the new Earth, guess they needed plasterers real bad. I look like the only blue collar geezer here though. What you do for a living Abdul lad? You gonna open yourself up a New Earth style Balti House mate? Wow Rocket Engineer fuck me. You must be on a wedge eh? Still you could do it as a side gig eh? Fixing rockets by day and cooking up Lamb Tikka Balti’s and Keema Naans by night, Fucking crackin that son, make a fuck ton of spaces bucks doing that son.

Anyway being cryogenically frozen for several thousand years gave me some real fucked up dreams. I tell you what happened to me. Ah sweet the bars finally open, you want a Kingfisher or Cobra Abdul lad?  What you mean you only have spirits, where’s all the tot man? What kind of fucking bar has no beer? I want to speak to your manager, squire. Wait? What the fuck? Fucking hell Abdul this geezers a fucking hologram. I’ve seen it all now. Well make it two scotch on the rocks then and make it snappy holoboy.

Well anyway back to my dream Abdul, Theres me and Robbie Steinbeck. Who’s Rob? Ah he’s this Jewish kid from back home in the second city. Yeh we used to fight at the football together and go out on the rave scene, yeh mate Rob was even a bigger pillhead than me and that’s saying something, I was more into my acid. I loved the old Lucy in the sky with diamonds. I’ve tripped my bollocks off all over the U.K., Ibiza too, although I’m not allowed back there anymore, well that’s a different story that Abdul.

Well I digress mate, back to my fucked up dream. There’s me and Robbie being chased through the Vineyard Estate. Nah mate na it’s not a winery it’s the old council estate I grew up on in Northfield. Long since flattened now though, they built a load of Barrett boxes on top of there back in 99. Gentrification they call it. Anyway me and Rob are being chased across the estate by a load of tooled up Black lads. Dunno why Rob was there? I never knew him as kid. He grew up in a big house in Moseley, super rich parents ya know,  his old man was a newsreader on Central TV back in the 70’s.

Two more scotches please hologram boy. Cheers Abdul lad here’s to Earth 2.0. Anyway me and Rob get chased up the external stairwell of the block of flats I grew up in and we gets to the door of the utility cupboard where the caretaker or superintendent or whatever the fuck keeps all his cleaning gear. We opens the door and goes inside to hide and when we flip the light switch the place turns into this gigantic 1920’s prohibition theme bar with a jazz band and burlesque strippers.

Nah Abdul buddy I just got sick of it on Earth with the kung flu and all that lockdown shite, it completely fucked up my plastering business. I just ended up stuck in the flat drinking loads and doing lots of drugs. So this space job showed up just in the nick of time. Funny thing is though Abdul I don’t even remember applying for it. Plus it’s too rough around the manor these days and I really miss my best mate Darren, he’s still locked up in Russia for fighting those commie cunts during the World Cup, fuck me we barely got out alive over there.

Anyway in this jazz club place we gets escorted over to our own private table by this smoking hot redhead piece. She says we have to order food with our drinks just like them silly kung flu rules in the pubs. But she just says cause it’s a 20’s or 30’s theme bar that was the rules to be served booze after hours or some bollocks like that. Anyways I order myself a ham sandwich. Rob don’t ‘cause he’s a kosher geezer so he has pastrami. She brings me over the wine list and I orders a large glass of Chianti and it tasted smashin’. Fucking weird as fuck how you can taste things in your dreams like that, although it did have the peculiar aftertaste of iron.

Anyway she lights up a Cuban cigar for me and I toke away, then the redhead tart gets on her knees and pulls down my trackie bottoms and starts sucking me off there and then in front of the jazz band and the whole club. I couldn’t believe it but I didn’t care ‘cause by that point I was fucking buzzing Abdul son.

And as soon as I shoot my bolt in her mouth this old cunt in a wheelchair comes rolling over to me and Rob. Who’s now getting some head of his own off some other bird. And you’ll never guess who the old cunt in the wheelchair is? It’s that Mr Potter cunt out of the old black and white film It’s a Wonderful Life. Lionel Barrymore? Is that the geezer’s name then Abdul? Fucking hell Abdul lad I didn’t realise you were a movie buff.

Anyway old Mr. Potter starts ranting and raving saying me and Rob are underdressed and tracksuits aren’t part of the dress code of the Bedford Falls gentleman’s club. I said listen here Potter mate this ent Bedford Falls this is Northfield mate. Then he starts saying we haven’t paid for our drinks, food, cigars and blowjobs. I said listen here Potter son, the poor girls still wiping my cum from her lips with that fancy pants napkin, give her a chance to fetch the bill for fucks sakes and I’m not giving her no tip either, you can stick those daft yank customs up your jacksy son.

Anyway Rob gets up after he’s spooged in his tart’s eye and grabs the handlebars of old man Potter’s wheelchair and starts wheeling him towards the exit. Old Potter’s screaming blue murder, how dare you treat me like this in my own club and all this shite.

We gets out the front of the utility cupboard door on the landing of the flats and Rob throws old Potter along with his wheelchair down the flight of stairs. See ya later you miserable old fuck he says. By this point Rob’s wearing a skull cap, I never seen Rob wear one of those before and then he says’s that old cunt Potter is a phoney, I’m the Jew in this dream so by right that makes me the covetous one. I said what the fuck you talking about Rob? There’s was no need to throw old Potter down the stairs, sure he was being a bit of a nause but that’s bang out of order, plus he’s already in a wheelchair what you trying to achieve? Cripple him even more? Then suddenly I turn around and that George Bailey cunt is standing there and he says, thank fuck somebody did that, now finally he’ll keep his hands off my building and loan. Then I hear these screams like war cries of an African tribe and it’s those black lads that were chasing us and there devouring old man Potter ripping him to shreds like starving cannibals.

Ah man it turned my stomach so bad I threw up all over George Bailey’s shiny shoes. What? James Stewart that his name yeah? Fucking hell Abdul you’d be well good at the pub quiz down at the Swan, hopefully that idiot Connor’s still barred if it ever reopens. That little baghead prick sold me a load of dodgy shrooms the other week. Oh yeah we’re in the future now, I keep forgetting. I wonder if the Villa have won The Premier League yet? Probably not. What? You’re a glory hunting Liverpool fanboy? Typical Indian lad. Don’t worry, I won’t hold it against you Abdul son.

Two more whiskeys over here you robot cunt. Where’s the hologram boy? Oh his shift finished yeah? Oh yeah, wow these drams are strong man. Anyway I chucked up all over George Bailey’s shoes and he gets so angry he twats me square on the nose. My face is now pissing with claret and then there’s that taste of iron again. Also I pissed and shit myself, total grand slam mate, full on wipe out there. And then that’s it really, I woke up in my hibernation pod and now we’re like 7,000 years in the future. Yeah Abdul, the present that’s what I meant. Ah yeah 7,493 years fucking hell. What year is it then? 9514, wow that’s mind-blowing man.

Ah well, I feel really shitfaced now Abdul I think I will go to bed if I can find the  way back to my cabin. Are we on the Debenhams’ or Selfridges’ side of the spaceship? Fuck knows anyway Abdul see you at induction class in the morning mate. Oi you android, can you help my find my way back to my cabin please? Fuck me, you have giant robotic fists. You look like one of those GoBots from the 80’s.


Fuck sake this don’t look like my cabin, ahhhhh my fucking head man. Wait I recognise them bars. Fuck no, not Digbeth police station. Why the fuck am I saturated in my own piss, shit and vomit. Ah my face man, blood, fuck sake my jaw is killing me and my nose feels like a squashed tomato. Fucking Connor and those dodgy magic mushies mate I’ll fucking kill that little cunt, smash his stupid face in and then cave his melon head in.

Key in lock, lock turning, wait who’s that? I smell bacon. What you want PC plod? Fucking old Bill always bothering me. What? Tripping my bollocks off inside of the Bullring during lockdown? Corona Act 2020? What kind of bollocks law is that?

What you gonna do with that truncheon? You can’t touch me my grandmother was from Uganda, well she was Indian Ugandan. Indian just like my old pal Abdul, where you gone mate?  Kicked out by Idi Amin and moved to Birmingham, marrying my war crazy Korean whore shagging grandad. Poor old cow.

Indian Ugandan counts though right? No, not black enough? Oi! Leave my trackie bottoms alone you sick twisted pig. No not my boxers, get your trotters off my underwear dibble. No not in my BUMHOLE! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH



That fucking Connor is a dead man walking. Fucking plastic paddy fake arse Irish cunt!