Some Beat Poetry

Knutsford services.
2 AM.
When all the no-good hustlers and dog-tired shylocks scuttle down the M6.
No thanks, man. I'm already a member.
He knows I ain't a member, but he lets it go, 'cause we're brothers, him and me.
Three quid for a Ginster's?
You can't put a price on pasties, man.
I only came in for a cack anyway.


Shabba.