By Nick Armbrister.

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.