webofevil | Vox pop 1

Half midnight, waiting for a bus in Clapham. A Mediterranean guy, smart casual, comes and stands next to me, starts regaling me with how he's just been thrown out of a bar. “I take cigarette from my friend. They say, you make trouble. I say, I take cigarette from my friend, but they say is no good, you are drunk, you come back next week. So I say okay. I leave my beer. I pay three pounds for my beer, but I leave it. I go. I don’t want trouble. If I want make trouble, I make trouble for them, you understand. But I don’t want trouble. Why is doorsman always black man? I don't understand. Shit people. I don’t like them. He say, you make trouble. But I just take cigarette from my friend.” And so on, round in drunken circles.

Then: “I go to Vauxhall. You know gay club in Vauxhall? I want to fuck.” I tell him there are several gay clubs near the station. “You know where is club?” he asks.

“Not really,” I tell him. “I don’t go to them.”

“Me neither. I am not gay. But tonight I want to go to gay club. I want to fuck.”

“You’re not gay?” I say.

“No,” he replies emphatically. “But I go to gay club tonight, and I fuck.”

He pauses, and looks back thoughtfully at the bar that’s slung him out.

“They just look for their business,” he says, finally. “But tonight I looking for my cock.”

Just then the 155 arrives and I leave him there at the bus stop, looking for his cock.