Phosphorescent – Song for Zula (2013)

well well well what do we have here? Ar you going soft on us mate? turnin into a pansy are you? this is music for girls…what are you doing listening to this shit? Jesus, I had high hopes for you son. I really did. Now, as far as I remember back when you were born, the doctors said you were a boy no? I have the birth certificate. Pretty sure you were born a boy. Correct me if I am wrong on that one. i would offer you a tinny but I’d be afraid with your feminine girly hands you may not be able to even open it, never mind drink it. Jesus! (laughs like a hyena) what’s the name of this guy? let me have a look. it is a guy? sounds like he’s dyin of some disease or something…just bloody sing would you.

Now, Bon Scott…there was a bloody singer…did I ever tell you I met him…yeah, top fuckin bloke too, a real man, could put em away, get the sheilas and handle himself in a bar fight or several hundred, know what i mean. Is that programme about Chopper on the telly tonight Barb? Barb!!!(shouts like a drunken, miniature godzilla) Christ, your mother is goin deaf. Maybe she’s onto something though with you playin this sensitive poof nonsense/ ‘song for zula’? who the fuck is zula when she’s at home? some Abo bird or what? forget i asked. bloody hell! bet he’s a yank hippie or somethin. phosphorescent? what does that even mean? that’s a chemical or somethin? i’d rather drink chemicals than listen to this johnny skidmark sing again. yeah, ac/dc. there was a band. not now mind. they’ve got that weird lookin ginger fucker from guns and ammo or some other poxy yank band. i didnt like that limey cunt who sang with them either. he was just doin a bon scott impression and a bad one. jesus, where have all the men gone these days? you are all a bunch of fuckin wet limp bastards arent you’s? why are you here anyway? you call around…what? maybe twice a fuckin year! go back to your wanderin ye fuckin bum! and get that poxy music out of here too. can’t even have a beer with me. you have your mother worryin. get out! i don’t fuckin care if it’s streamin fuckin gold dust. turn it off and get the hell out! you are no son of mine!