’E was a right creep ’e was, Maureen.
Not so most people ’ould notice, like,
You couldn’t tell at a glance,
But the way ’e followed me about – wiv ’is eyes.

Smartly dressed, ’e was,
Tall, blond, well, blondish, not bad lookin’ really.
Kinda stocky,
An’ ’e didn’t wear glasses or ’ave spots,
But ’e was right creepy.

Came up t’ me as soon as ’e saw me, ’e did,
An’ you know what ’e said?
Good evenin’, ’aven’t seen you ’ere before.

Startlingly original, I says t’ meself.
I could tell right away what ’e was like,
I always can.
So I blanked ’im.
But what did ’e do?
’E followed me around all night ’e did;
Wiv ’is eyes mostly.

Oh, ’e did come up t’ me once or twice before ’e left.
Are you sure you wouldn’t like to dance?
Certainly not!
Won’t you tell me your name?
I ’ad t’ laugh out loud at that one.
Please have a drink with me.
’E sounded like ’e was beggin’.
In the end I ’ad t’ tell ’im t’ push off.
’Cept not in so many words, like.

When ’e did eventually leave me alone
’E chased a couple of uvver girls until they got sick of ’im too,
An’ told ’im t’...uh, huh, huh.
Well, you know what I mean.

Anyway, the last I saw of ’im it was about eleven o’clock.
’E was sittin’ at a table, by ’imself, naturally,
Drinkin’ shorts.
’E must ’ave left soon after that
Cos I don’t remember seein’ ’im again,
An’ I would’ve remembered if I ’ad.

Course, by this time I’d got talkin’ t’ this lorry driver,
Big bloke wiv tattoos all down ’is arms,
Bit of a dreamboat ’e was.
Well, I asked ’im back f’ a coffee,
An’ ’e stayed f’ breakfast...

I’d clean forgot about the creep until I picked up the paper this mornin’.
Shame really I suppose, even f’ the likes of ’im.
I mean, ’e was only twenty-four.

They reckon ’e must ’ave been dead a fortnight before the chap next door complained about the smell.

I wonder why ’e did it.


magazing five was published in February 1986; editor and publisher Chris Mitchell included Futility, City Kid, The Gambler and Creep – in that order – in this A5 format publication. Shortly, Jenny Chaplin of Writers’ Rostrum published City Kid and The Gambler in A Purpose Strong And Bright, and later in the year I published Creep and Futility in We’re Coming From Your Telecom Shares. The first link below leads to a PDF scan of the original. It includes the front cover, inside front cover (contents page) and all four poems. The pages of this publication are unnumbered.

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