Gary Numan: Live 1984-2000 (Another Fan Look)

Part 2: White Noise (1984)

What follows is my original review for White Noise from 2017.
I soon realised the whole 'track-by-track' method would wear very thin very quickly, and this is the only review that is conducted in this manner.
An updated version more in keeping with later pieces will eventually be released here as well.

White Noise

Most artists will, after releasing a new album, tour for the new album and play a good deal from that. 

White Noise is an interesting case for several reasons.

First off, this was the first complete concert recording that Gary Numan had released, Living Ornaments ’79 and ’80 being highlights-only single-disc affairs (not getting fully released until 1998 and 2005, respectively), and more importantly the first live album released by his doomed vanity label, Numa Records.

Gary Numan’s live albums often outclass his studio material in terms of intensity and sound quality, although White Noise does fall short in some areas.

Next up is the setlist to album track ratio.
Berserker had nine tracks, but by this point in the tour, only four of them had survived in the setlist, The Secret having been dropped after the opening night.

As Numan was touring for the divisive Berserker, its industrial/funk stylings at odds with the synthpop that made him famous, all the tracks get performed in this slower and heavier style. Sometimes this works (Remind Me To Smile, We Are Glass, Are ‘Friends’ Electric?), sometimes it doesn’t (Metal, Down In The Park, Cars). 

It’s pretty telling that out of the new songs performed, the punchy techno-rock of The Hunter or the funky Pleasure Principle-lite The God Film are not amongst them.

Numan instead focuses on more upbeat and commercial-material, sometimes at the expense of the quality of older tracks. Metal in particular suffers from a plodding synth line and generally lifeless delivery.

Out of the four new tracks, three (Berserker, Cold Warning, My Dying Machine) benefit from the live presentation, gaining a punchier and stronger overall sound than their studio counterparts. The title track in particular kicks in with a synthetic roar that readily outclasses a lot of the material on offer here, although that is more down to how well the material fits with the funk style he was peddling at the time rather than the fault of the material.

The one notable casualty is This Is New Love. Already a six-minute exercise in flailing and exhausting repetition on the album, the live version adds nothing of worth besides a slightly stronger percussion layer which is not enough to save the track.

Then is the setlist length.

Compared to the previous year’s Warriors tour, where the setlist was regularly altered and every track from the new album was performed on one night or another, it is slightly disheartening to see the setlist shorten so dramatically.

This would mark a trend in Gary’s concerts that would carry on for the next nine years, where the big hits would accompany then-current album cuts with very little variation between nights. 

Live rarities include The Iceman Comes and This Prison Moon, both from Warriors. they benefit from the live presentation as the Berserker cuts do, sounding rawer and more energetic.

Gary seems far more at ease throughout the concert, although this does unfortunately lead to a very slurred delivery of several vocals, as well as an outbreak of hysterics during Are ‘Friends’ Electric?

The setlist is fairly balanced to give a fairly accurate cross-section of his best material from this period (including the only available live recordings of several tracks).

You get most of the best Berserker-era material in superior live incarnations here, although Ghost has a more varied tracklist and slightly superior sound quality.

Either way, this is a decent representation of Gary’s mid-1980s period, and one of the few parts that he looks back on fondly.

Sound quality is excellent, and the Eagle Records reissue comes with an extensive set of liner notes and a new front cover to fit in with the rest of the reissued live albums.

Non-fans are unlikely to buy this anyway, and Gary has made better live efforts.

As it was his first live album I ever got, I’ve still got a soft spot for the album.

Track by Track 

Intro - A stripped-down rendition of the theme from Berserker, similar to how the Replicas theme was used during the Touring Principle.

Berserker - Far more energy than the studio rendition, which sometimes came across as too cold and alienated for it’s own good. Everything comes together well.

Metal - The audience’s clapping sounds slightly out of time. Coupled with a very plodding performance, this becomes a bit of a flop.

Me! I Disconnect From You - After the sped-up version played on earlier tours, it was a surprise to hear the original studio version being played again. The Berserker synth sound can’t quite keep up with the razor thin precision of the original’s notes, but it works well enough.

Remind Me To Smile - Final official recording until 1993. The heavy Berserker sound makes this work a lot better than before, fitting well in the setlist as well.

Sister Surprise - This version is halfway between the ominous-but-overlong album version and the snappier single mix, taking the best elements from both for a fairly sparkling performance.

Music For Chameleons - Only official live recording. It’s an admirable attempt to emulate Pino Palladino’s bass-playing and it is a largely successful one.

The Iceman Comes - One of Warriors’ highlights, and it benefits from the live presentation, relying less on backing singers.

Cold Warning - Only official live release. Holds up well live.

Down In The Park - Benefits from the lower, moodier synths used, although it becomes plodding by the end.

This Prison Moon - Eh.

I Die: You Die - Works well enough.

My Dying Machine - Bigger synth sounds, and the use of two sets of drums give more power. Gary forgets a few lines though.

Cars - Flabby and weak compared to the ultra-precise original.

We Take Mystery (To Bed) - Energetic and kicks some life back into the concert.

We Are Glass - A powerful take with clearer guitar lines. Gary forgets most of the lines as usual.

This Is New Love - Awful in the studio and awful here.

My Shadow In Vain - Gary changes the lyric from ‘black and white’ to ‘blue and white’ in reference to the Berserker image. Not much else to note.

Are ‘Friends’ Electric? - Gary repeats the second verse, having gotten caught up in some onstage shenanigans and laughing out loud twice. Where faster early tracks suffer from the Berserker treatment, the fairly ballad-like tracks like these cope with the changes rather well.

A Critical Look at Ghostwriting / Continuing A Series: How Well Can It Go?

Part 1:

Stieg Larrson’s Millennium Trilogy and the two (so far) follow-ups by David Lagercrantz

Context on The Millennium Trilogy:

Larsson’s trilogy is an unusual case for a book series in that the content becomes less exaggerated as the series progresses. Whereas literary figures such as James Bond or Hannibal Lecter started out in relatively grounded narratives before moving into more stylised domain, Lisbeth Salander and Mikael Blomkvist unmask a notorious serial killer and sink a business empire during The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo, before becoming entangled in a vast legal conspiracy throughout the following two novels.

The horror of Nils Bjurman raping Lisbeth Salander in Dragon Tattoo becomes a bizarre kind of exhibition when Salander’s covertly filmed account is presented as part of a legal case in The Girl Who Kicked The Hornet’s Nest.

Likewise, Salander’s revenge upon Bjurman, using a tattoo gun to permanently brand him as “a sadistic pig, a pervert and a rapist”, becomes something of a dark running gag amongst the police investigations going on throughout the following two novels.

By Hornet’s Nest, the horror of Salander’s ordeal and the catharsis of her revenge become somewhat cartoonish in the context of the trilogy.

Likewise, the story of sadistic serial killer Martin Vanger, who with his torture dungeon and incestuous leanings would be right at home in a Hannibal Lecter novel, becomes an afterthought within the same book as the final antagonist role is transferred back to white-collar crook Hans-Erik Wennerström, with the novel ending with his financial ruin and murder.

Regardless of my quibbles about the tone shifting within the original trilogy, Larsson’s books are page-turners packed with intrigue and suspense, and it’s clear that Larsson seriously did his homework throughout the writing process.

Although this does work against him by Hornets’ Nest, where the ongoing legal battles require the reader to absorb large chunks of information on Sweden’s judicial process.

That said I’m fairly sure these issues could have been addressed were it not for Larsson’s untimely death before anything was published.

DavidLagercrantz Takes The Helm

In 2013 author David Lagercrantz was enlisted to complete the Millennium series. He did so without access to Larsson’s material and outlines for future novels, which remain with Larsson’s partner Eva Gabrielsson. 

This led to the two (so far) continuation novels, The Girl In The Spider’s Web in 2015 and The Girl Who Takes An Eye For An Eye in 2017.

I have no issue with the idea of bringing in another author to complete a series in the case of the original creator being unable to do so.

I was eager to see how the intertwined narratives of Lisbeth Salander and Mikael Blomkvist would continue, as I’d imagine most fans were.

As long as it has the approval of the creator’s estate, there shouldn’t be an ethical problem with continuing a piece of art although in this case Larsson’s family appear to have gone behind Gabrielsson’s back to carry on the series without her consent.

That aside, what I do have an issue with is when the continuation work isn’t very good.

In the cases of most series that have a long gap between instalments, they tend to either rely too heavily upon the original work to function as a complete experience (see the Star Wars prequels, largely recycled parts of the original trilogy mixed in with concepts and characters rejected from the original films) or act as a weird, slightly sad imitation of the original work (every comedy sequel that comes out over ten years after the original).

Although modern cinema has now almost mastered the art of the soft reboot, which function as both a continuation and reboot to ageing franchises such as Star Wars and Jurassic Park, this is not as widely used a technique when it comes to books.

The Girl In The Spider’s Web

The Girl In The Spider’s Webtakes the opportunity of a time skip to introduce further amounts of social commentary, in particular the NSA’s tendency to monitor people and the potential abuses of this kind of power.

To tie into this further, the villains of the series continue to become both more spectral and mysterious and closer to realism for the most part. 

Spider’s Webintroduces the Spider Society, formed from the remnants of Zalachenko’s criminal empire and helmed by Lisbeth’s long lost sister Camilla.

And this is where the problems really start to kick in for Spider’s Web.

Simply put, the Spider Society doesn’t seem like that credible a threat when compared to supposedly the greatest computer hacker alive.

Having Camilla be evil and “following in her father’s footsteps” is a pretty predictable move, and she functions as a fairly generic antagonist, from her pulpy femme fatale act used on Blomkvist, to her taunting “until next time!” message to Salander at the end of the book, Camilla is not an intriguing villain, having been used as a copy of the more engaging Zalachenko, and admitting in-universe that she wanted to be like him is not excuse for powering on ahead anyway. 

There’s a backstory mention of when Zalachenko locked his daughters in their room while he was beating their mother, how Camilla would punch the mattress in time with Zalachenko’s punches.

Even when compared to the cartoonish sadists on display in Larsson’s original books, this moment for me was when Spider’s Webcrossed the line into all-out absurdity. 

Several previous plot points are out and out retconned to little impact other than attempting to tailor the original trilogy to a more conventional layout.

Camilla goes from being the one normal member of Lisbeth’s family to a sociopath similar to their father for seemingly no other reason than having a familiar character act as an antagonist.

Having Lisbeth’s ‘Wasp’ handle supposedly derive from the Marvel Comics character of the same name felt like an attempt to link the series to current pop culture and had a cheapening effect on the character. So too with Camilla’s handle as ‘Thanos’, which will do little but culturally date this volume in the series.

General writing problems are felt throughout, Blomkvist thanking his lucky stars twice within the first 150 pages was the most acutely felt.

The plot wraps up fairly neatly with the Camilla disappearing largely unscathed and no real cliffhangers, which left me pretty empty upon finishing.

Spider’s Web includes some good character ideas; Lisbeth rescues and bonds with August, the young autistic son of a murdered AI developer. August’s drawing skills are both impressive and hold the key to identifying his father’s killer. To Lagercrantz’s credit, he gives Lisbeth an interesting foil to play off of, and is able to have her show a few more moments of humanity without making it look like she’s losing her edge.

Other positives include the online smear campaign against Blomkvist was pretty interesting and a nice taking apart of internet campaigns, and the general idea of print media paling in comparison to the rise of blog news media.

In general, Spider’s Webhas a few good ideas but Lagercrantz spends far too much time trying to soft reboot the series to fit his own vision and flood the narrative with exposition to develop these ideas in a more satisfying manner. 

The book certainly could have benefitted from being longer.

After the dense and winding (maybe too winding) epic of Hornets’ Nest, Spider’s Webfeels frustratingly back-to-basics. The style is a tad more obvious, with exposition dropped in small but noticeable chunks throughout, and the plot wraps up in a predictable manner.

However, Spider’s Webwas still a page turner, although it’s the first time I felt I was in a rush to finish the book, it might have been faith to the characters that kept me reading more so than the quality of the book. 

The Girl Who Takes An Eye For An Eye

I assumed that many of the issues I had with Spider’s Webwere down to Lagercrantz finding his bearings and being cautious about avoiding the kind of seven-hundred-page pileup that Hornets’ Nestbecame.

Then I read The Girl Who Takes An Eye For An Eye.

Thankfully Eye For An Eyedevelops most of the better parts of Spider’s Web and progresses in a way more faithful to the original trilogy in general.

Positives first.

The book starts off much better immediately, by putting Lisbeth in the unfamiliar surroundings of an adult prison, you give the reader an entirely new set of expectations, we’ve never seen her as an adult in this kind of environment.

The reasoning for her being in there is fairly plausible, although not really in keeping with the tone of the series.

Fellow inmate Benito feels slightly cookie-cutter, but serves as a more immediate antagonist than Camilla as we get to see Salander deal with her directly, and the direct repercussions of her actions within the echo chamber of prison, more succinct and punchy, effectively captures the ideas of actions having consequences displayed so well in the original trilogy.

Lagercrantz adds to Lisbeth’s backstory without intruding upon prior events too much, the additions feel like natural evolutions rather than extraneous additions in this area.

He continues to reintroduce a few more memorable figures and motifs, and I particularly enjoyed the characters of Leo and Dan and the shooting mystery, which reminded me of the journalistic skills employed in Blomkvist’s investigation into Harriets Vanger’s disappearance from the first book, although not necessarily in an imitative manner.

The classic mystery novel device of having identical twins is here used as a springboard into a sinister Nazi-like venture into shaping identical twins separately from birth, a natural evolution from the “nature vs. nurture” concept.

Now for the problems.

Salander is frustratingly absent for large portions of the novel, without the excuses of being in hospital or custody. She’s released from prison halfway through the novel, and takes a back seat in favour of several flashbacks showing how the two mysteries of the twins and her former cellmate’s murdered lover relate to one another. Surely, especially when one considers how proactive a character Salander is, she should have put into an investigative role like the previous books had done?

And why even put Salander in prison in the first place if it doesn’t ultimately affect her character, and she gets released halfway through anyway?

Faria Kazi is a sympathetic figure, but her plot exists seemingly to keep Lisbeth distracted from the main plot long enough for the antagonists to do enough damage.

Kazi’s situation does tie well into the series’ ongoing examination of violence against women, a theme glaringly absent from Spider’s Web, but its use as a side story feels frustratingly token.

Lisbeth’s secondary antagonist throughout the book is the cartoonishly evil fellow inmate Benito, who I swear has some kind of dagger fixation. 

Her obsession with proclaiming that her ‘Keris is pointing at you’ as a kind of death sentence becomes frankly ridiculous by the end, where she’s been severely beaten by Salander and needs a bunch of cronies to even get hold of her. 

The entire showdown between the resurgent Benito and Bublanski’s forces at the end was somewhat predictable, although it thankfully wasn’t the main attraction this time.

Salander confronts Rakel Greitz and Lagercrantz gives her an appropriate send-off, with Salander preventing Greitz’s suicide and having her arrested and await her “death by shame”. This certainly seemed more in line with Larsson’s original version of her character.

Overall Eye For An Eyewas a marked improvement over Lagercrantz’s first attempt and gives me a fair bit of hope for future instalments.

Main Issues

My main issues with Lagercrantz’s attempt to continue the Millennium series are as follows:

-      He does not seem overly interested in sticking to the characterisations of much of the cast, instead preferring to keep them separate more for reasons of the plot than of their own volition, giving the books a distinct air of poor fanfiction.

-      New characters are often shunted in at the expense of existing characters. Much of the cast built up during Hornets’ Nestis removed as of Spider’s Web, leaving Blomkvist and Salander flailing. 

-      One of Larsson’s express purposes when writing the series was to provide a scathing examination of the misogyny ingrained within society in a supposedly civilised age, especially when justified ‘for the greater good’. By swapping the villains for a science fiction hacker network in Spider’s Weband putting Salander in prison anyway in Eye For An Eye, Lagercrantz’s work suggests he wasn’t interested in continuing one of the core themes of the series.

-      The original books, while not being hot-blooded erotic works, contained several scenes of a sexual nature. Lagercrantz’s follow-ups often come across as sterile and sexless. Their absence is especially conspicuous in notable womaniser Blomkvist’s scenes. Coupled with Figuerola’s absence, and he appears deliberately neutered for no other reason than Lagercrantz’s discomfort with covering the topic. Which again begs the question as to why Larsson’s family thought him the best author to continue the series?

-      Lagercrantz’s additions are notably more episodic, with only passing references to past adventures. Had he been asked to continue the series if only the relatively standalone Dragon Tattoowas the only available novel, this would be an understandable strategy and would have lead to a relatively understandable change. However, two very layered and intertwined volumes stand between Dragon Tattoo and Lagercrantz’s efforts, and his efforts to force the series into a more conventional thriller format are akin to locking the gate after the horse has bolted. 

-      By making the unique and non-conforming figure of Lisbeth Salander a guest in her own series, Lagercrantz effectively smothers one of the series’ biggest draws.

Conclusion

Overall, Lagercrantz’s follow-ups are not necessarily bad books on their own, it’s just that they are ill-fitting at best with the rest of Larsson’s series and clearly betray their germination from a dubious legal tangle.

It’s disheartening to see a series once so unique become so anonymous so quickly.

That said, the series was fairly wrapped up as a trilogy if left alone so one can still enjoy Larsson’s work as it stands.

Lagercrantz’s additions are ultimately unnecessary to the series’ main arc of achieving Lisbeth Salander’s freedom.

Lacgerantz’s style is frustratingly timid and tame, he seems afraid of dealing with the serious and controversial content of Larsson’s series, yet he presses on.

As a Millennium fan, I’m likely to read his next addition to the series, and I am hopeful that his work will continue to improve.

Short Story / Flash Fiction: 'Bag For Life'

I wrote a very short story a while ago, after getting hung up on the idea of a bag for life as a supernatural entity.
Enjoy.

Bag For Life

The tatty alarm clock rang at the usual time.

Brian reached out in the usual manner, and missed by the usual amount.

With all options exhausted, he rose.

He swung his feet to the side, and snugly fit them into his slippers.

As Brian got up, he heard a rustle.

He looked down.

His slippers were resting on a plastic bag.

The plastic was translucent from wear, emblazoned with his favourite shop’s logo, now apparently faded and worn with age.

Brian carefully flattened and folded the item, placing it in the kitchen drawer before heading into the bathroom.

The razor glided smoothly along his scalp, handle growing slick with suds in the shower.

Brian scowled at his reflection. The ideal way to conceal a weak chin would be a beard.

Unfortunately, his genes didn’t allow for such a luxury; the best Brian should hope for was a hangover-style set of stubble that added another year at most to his seventy-four.

‘Too late for worry lines now.’ He said, converting the frown into a vague approximation of a smile.

Breakfast came quick and easy while rain dribbled down the kitchen windows.

Instant porridge and instant coffee right from the packets into the dishes, his favourite.

Three spoonfuls of brown sugar in each, no more or less.

None of that granulated nonsense, awful stuff was full of chemicals and goodness knew what else.

One thing Brian liked about the future for sure, was how simple everything could be.

Too much of that thinking made his head hurt something terrible, and damned if he was making another trip to the pharmacist in this weather.

Enough risks were being taken with his newsagents.

*

‘Would you like a bag for life?’

‘Bag for life? What’s that?’ A grinning American tourist asked.

‘Well, it’s a bag.’

‘Allright.’

‘For life.’

‘Okay, neat. Thank you. I’ll come back if it doesn’t last.’ The tourist laughed at their own joke.

‘Thanks, bye.’ The assistant’s unfortunately-arranged face briefly slumped back into shape. The grin returned for the next customer. 

Brian never brought his own bags.

Things like ‘environmental impact’ eventually stop having an impact once one reached a certain age, in Brian’s case this was sixteen.

Nobody knew what Brian did with his bags.

Neither did Brian.

But since things were simpler for him that way, he didn’t mind. After all, it was only another five pence piece and he’d already counted it out in the queue

The assistant had already prepared a bag and held it open for the usual haul.

Three television guides, a Mars Bar and the paper.

The assistant had an awful habit of scowling at the front cover of every paper he scanned.

Brian let it slide again.

He handed over the money.

Six pounds and twenty-four pence exactly, until it rose again.

The new note sprang out of the assistant’s hands, prompting a muttered curse word.

Brian thanked him and left. The assistant scowled.

Not this time.

‘Excuse me, the receipt.’

Bob turned around.

‘I don’t do receipts, thank you.’

The scowl stiffened.

‘Not for you, for the store. The bags.’

The assistant gave him a slightly more professional look.

‘New legislation, I’m afraid.’ He chewed the words into a smile.

The receipt printed, and the assistant handed it over.

‘To sign.’

‘What for?’

‘Legislation.’ He enjoyed bandying that word about, some part of Bob knew that.

‘All right, give it here.’ He said, motioning for a pen.

The assistant handed him a marker pen.

Brian’s face dropped. 

‘Sorry, it’s all I have.’ The assistant’s smile carried several sentiments, sorrow not being amongst them.

Brian struck off a broad black scribble that looked nothing like his signature.

‘The pact is sealed.’ The assistant mumbled to nobody in particular, folding the receipt into the till drawer.

‘What was that?’ Brian said, arching an eyebrow.

‘Nothing.’ The grin broadened. ‘Careful out in the rain, British summertime and all.’

Brian brandished his index finger, cocked like a gun.

‘This used to be such anicestore, with nicepeople. And all this-’

He waved it around the lurid bright stationary displays, the polished fake wood floor, the overbearing 3 for 2 advertisements.

‘All this is ridiculous. I used to be able to get my magazines, my paper and I knew where everything was. This. Makes. No. Sense.’ He punctuated the last few words with additional finger jabs.

Another quip wriggled out from between the assistant’s lips.

‘I’ll pass your feedback on.’

Brian delivered the killing blow.

‘All the young people are messing up the world.’ 

The battle was over. Brian tutted, took stock and left.

The assistant shrugged and called for the next customer.

‘What was that about?’ They asked, bagging a fat stack of railway magazines.

Another shrug.

‘I’m afraid I’m not paid enough to care.’

*

Brian reran the encounter over and over again in his mind, the picture lined with static and VHS scan lines. 

‘Not for you.’ He’d sneered, like he was handling a spoilt child at a wedding covered in icing and mud, ruining another suit. That little upstart.

No, the antagonism just clouded things. What if he could be indifferent? It mattered not to him what happened, right? Wasn’t a hazy sea of broad acceptance preferable to the knife edge of animosity? Brian mulled the thought over in his head, but facts kept getting in the way and digging in, covering everything in a clear plastic veil.

Plastic, plastic, everything was made of plastic.

It was one thing to start charging for the bags, now they expected him to sign for them every single time he had to go shopping? Brian wasn’t that interesting, he didn’t think. Certainly not enough for them to want his signature. What if he forged it, would that matter at all, if he did that?

Surely they wouldn’t come after him, he just wanted to keep his papers safe from the rain?

Weren’t there laws against this, or was the environment more important than consent these days?

Brian didn’t have any answers for himself, nor the time.

He slept on the bus home and missed his stop, necessitating an extra fifteen minutes out in the rain reaping the benefits of British summertime.

*

Brian didn’t have an unkind face, he thought.

He’d thought about it on the walk from the shop, on the bus back home, and while he dropped his bags and headed straight in for a shower from the rain. He could at least get damp on his own terms for once.

He’d always thought cruelty was this genetic kind of thing, that you could pick it up like a scent on people.

It was a kind of stale aroma, he’d always thought. Bad breath of the soul. Some people reeked of it, for sure and had it marked into every rough edge of their being, every line on their face.

Then again, some of the worst people he was sure looked like everybody else, they didn’t look the type.

A disease, perhaps. One that takes root in the heart and blooms in the eyes into cruel looks.

Brian didn’t think he looked like the cruel sort, his face was too round, his eyes too dark and cattle-like to suggest any ulterior motives.

Then again, he didn’t have his glasses on.

Perhaps he was cruel-looking.

Maybe age had twisted his features into a grotesque parody of themselves.

He might look like one of those Spitting Image puppets for all he knew.

Partial sight may have been a small mercy.

He didn’t need a bag for life, his face was becoming one for him.

He barked out a laugh while in the shower.

His wit was always sharpest when there was nobody around to hear it.

When he emerged from the bathroom, his shopping was already unpacked on the kitchen counter, the bag gone from sight.

*

Eastenders.

Corrie.

Emmerdale.

If there was one thing Brian could thank the new generations for, it was the wonders of Sky Plus.

Now he could catch up on three shows back to back, even without the advertisements if he wanted to.

But he didn’t. He liked the advertisements. They had a purpose still, to give him adequate time for a toilet break.

In between shows, Brian ate.

First the steak and kidney pie, with real ale sauce according to the packaging.

Brian’s preference for sauce over gravy surely marked him out as an eccentric, he thought.

Gravy was too runny, and heaven knew what they’d put in the stuff.

The chips were from the local place, double-fried and somewhat moist.

Brian liked to remove the pastry lid from the pie, then get the largest chips and dunk them in the steaming sauce, biting them off like wet matches.

The synthesised drum beats coming from the television set signalled to Brian that it was time for a second toilet break. He’d grab another can of bitter from the kitchen on the way back to wash down dinner.

Washing up could wait. 
Maybe he could get one of those dishwashers from the advertisements.

He could probably afford it, just cut back on a few luxuries.

Maybe switch over to oven chips for a start.

The thought of having a goal brought a small smile to his face.

Once he got into the small bathroom, the smile collapsed.

There was the bag from earlier.

It lay on the bathroom mat.

All smoothed out and empty, no creases.

Brian shook the thought from his mind as quickly as it had formed.

He folded the bag back up and stuck it in the kitchen drawer and paid no more mind to it.

*

Back on the bus home the next day, Brian had scoured the town for his sister’s birthday presents.

She’d sent him a letter with an attached list.

For once, the list was thorough. 

She’d had to send the list as a large letter.

Bag in hand, packed with the usual haul.

Brian had added on a whim an anniversary copy of the Radio Times.

Brian was drifting off to sleep, when a sharp set of fingers tapped his shoulder.

‘Excuse me, can you take your bag off that seat please?’

He blinked and adjusted his glasses.

‘I’m sorry?’

The lady nodded at the seat, hard to do much else with two bags loaded with groceries.

Sure enough, there was a plastic bag on the seat.

His bag, yes, but not the one he set off with.

It was too old, surely.

The logo was tattered and torn, the lettering distorted on the plastic and curving vaguely upward.

But upon rummaging through his shopping, he retrieved a signed receipt complete with a marker pen scrawled mockery of his signature, marked with today’s date.

The ink had smudged, leaving an ugly smear across a photo of a celebrity it was probably no longer fashionable to like anymore.

The assistant had likely fished a grotty one out of the basement to spite him.

Brian was grateful that’d he’d never made the mistake of having children.

The young might eat the old, but not him.

*

Brian leaned back on the toilet, eyes closed and listening to his breathing slowing back to resting rate.

A white shape hung on the back of the door.

Several shapes.

Bags for life hung like bats from the door, walls and ceiling.

The logos grinned at him, letters distorted and pointed like mouthfuls of broken teeth.

Brian didn’t know where to look.

Certainly not behind him.

The thin white polyethylene enveloped his head, sealing itself tight.

He could feel the lightheadedness set in, each breath growing shallower, the strength sapping from his limbs.

Sleep came easily.