Bizarre Man

Bizarre Man
I’m the bizarre man. I like to sleep in a river. I love the feeling of water flowing round my sleeping face. Don’t worry, I won’t drown. I can breathe underwater like a fish. On my back is an upside down push bike. It belonged to the landlord of the Dog and Duck pub. I stole it along with his orange chequered brolly. The bike is a 1928 model worth sixteen grand. It’s not for sale. The wheels move in the wind, freewheeling. I keep my other clothes dry in an orange case that belonged to a copper. I liberated it from his car. No need for spare cuffs, CS gas, stun gun, bondage gear. I don’t wash my clothes. The running water cleans them. My yellow Fred Perry shirt has never looked fresher. And my PVC jeans are jet black gothic. Do you think I’m bizarre? I do hope so. When I want to go somewhere, I use the bike. I’m in the same position – upside down with my back on the saddle and my legs steering the handle bars. I see where I’m going by the eyes in the back of my head. I’ll pop to the shop when I wake up from my dreamy sleep, dreaming of fish.