You're Nearly Dead

This week’s theme is Poetic Audio Description, which is interpreted to varying levels of literality by our hosts. Do the pieces reveal the inner workings and dark opinions of their writers? Will Charlie return to form after his devastating Lame Duck in ep. 14? And most importantly, will Matt give Charlie the satisfaction he craves, and give up his well won cup?There’s (mainly) one way to find out.BENWhat Are You DoingIt is night, but an orange light is cast by a string of bare outdoor bulbs, many of which are broken. At a bench in a beer garden after hours, sits a man in his late 20s, straddling the seat and looking at the littered floor. Though he makes no effort to leave, his posture suggests that he knows he should. He sips beer from a tulip glass and smokes a found filtered cigarette. Exhaling deeply he stubs it out and pulls an Apple laptop from his backpack, swinging his legs around in a gesture of resolve. He begins to type. The man counts the bulbs, assesses the discarded cigarette ends and pizza boxes, sips his drink, and continues typing. He finishes his drink and leaves the garden to fetch another. And then another when the second runs dry. He stops typing and leans back squinting at the screen. In one move he closes the computer and swivels again to mount the ashen wood. He finishes his drink. He fetches another.MATTWhat Are You DoingThere’s a warm prick in the air.A kitkat wrapper tumbles past, seemingly through sheer boredomIt’s not a bustling high street, by any means10.45amWhy aren’t these people in work?Most of them are elderlyStruggling with their shoppingAs I look on.Is 'blue rinse' still a thing?I daren’t interrupt the stagger of This old man in the oversized suitWhich once fit when he was fatterElse he might keel over from swivelling.Plus he probably doesn’t know.I’d be better off asking This well-permed womanWith a tight off-white bobWith empty bags.CHARLIEWhat Are You DoingThere's a spoken word tentAnd a rusty LDV minibus with the rear windows covered by taupalin Mattress in the back, MOT and road tax missing presumed expired I see bongos. Dormant but ominous at the open back of a canvas tentDreadlocks everywhere, some matted. News that the hosepipe ban has been lifted is yet to reach this once-pleasant parkAre these people happy? If anything they look too happyAll on giff gaff, with no visible means of supportI am trying to understand

This week’s theme is ‘Travel Diary’. If that sounds confusing, your hosts agree. But never one to shirk a challenge, they get down and dirty in the word maze with 3 very different interpretations. Who will arise victorious? You’ll never guess! MATTTuesday 12th June Up at 9am, yoghurt for breakfast. Set off around 10.30am:Wangmouth! Very fine beach, terrible looking pubs, and shops. Horse House Hotel turned out only served food to its patrons. Boo. Found a bakery, who produced a couple of crab sandwiches, grabbed local cider and Bad co. cans and headed to find a spot. Very few people around, mostly dog walkers and a few munty families with toddlers. After a tasty lunch, headed to the park. Swings at the business end. There was a small boy, must have been 4 or 5 with no-one to push him. Duly obliged, gently, provoking a fit of giggles. In between bursts of gravity’s lyric, I was being nagged by a slight uneasiness. Where was the parent and/or guardian, and is what I’m doing OK, as an adult man? My mind struggled to escape the hysterical labyrinth, which it wouldn’t have had the opportunity to get lost in had the boy and I been of a similar age.The uneasy feeling magnified, when a man made mostly of scalp jogged over and asked me, ‘WHAT ARE YOU DOING’ and pulled (what I hoped was) his son away.Despite my annoyance at the loud exclamation of something suspicious, I refrained from offering an antagonising quip. Such as ‘paedophiling’. That certainly wouldn’t have helped. Would it have been better for everyone if I’d not pushed the boy at all?Came back and made a light supper of squid rings, chilli bread, salad and Bombay mix. Stayed up listening to Takes a Worried Man and singing it loudly until the sky said to stop, around 11.30pm.CHARLIEI knew I would love this job.I remember the Moscow lecture halls and books. Learning with frustrated impatience my profession: engineering.But my mind was 2000 kms from Moscow. 2602 from homeIn a hive of muddy trails, ravenous rivers, and punishing coldWhere I can be tested, where I can be a man.Which is where I find myself today, with a small group of other graduatesHelping in the business of transforming our endless forests into Chinese furnitureI’m not like the others. There is a ZiL with six long tonnes of logs sunk in the deep riverI go with Peter, one of the drivers. He lives only for drinkingI live only for working. Our truck sinks too, until the pressure of the water smashes Peter’s window.I feel the cold. She said I was cold when she ended it, just before I left.BENMaizeFurther from now Than from when we were bornWe spent a day in the dusty cornCharged with lustAnd a long to playWe followed paths trying to find Our way to the middleWe found it

The theme this week is Country! Given that two of our hosts play and write in a Country Rock band, they should knock it out the park. Or the country park, if you will.This week’s pieces:CHARLIECloggoIt was 1889They built this dirty maze of mineI keep things moving right below your feetWhere the sun don't shineIs where I spend my timeI know it better than I know the streetAll weekI'm knee-deep(But My girl is) so sweetWhen I leave it behindTil one day I saw thatShe was on her backWith the guy the keeps the drains in town intactNow when you're feeling fineIn 2099You won't know what's right below your feetIt's my babyAnd the drain man maybeThe other sewer rats have had a treatBENCloggedWhen you asked, in your gentle toneTo use the most private part of my homeI was torn to tell the tawdry truthThat room belies my ample youthI would not wait on this stalemateMy body’s a temple I desecrateNow the pipes are packed, the flow is lowAnd I don’t know when I’ll next goTo save us both the grievanceI’d find another convenienceCloggedI got cloggedNow I cannot find my way through the fogCloggedI got cloggedNow my love is like a broken bogMATTGot CloggedWhen you left meI was torn in twoBetweenTwo halves of broken heartacheLike this I’ve never seenBefore I canmake it to my feetI’ve hung my head and cried.But I’m a rock.And I gotta keep rolling on.Cos if I don’tI know I won’t be the manThat I want to beI’ll be stuck in a rutI’ll be too cut up to seeWhat else is out thereAnd I ain’t standingNo, I ain’t standingI ain’t standing for that.You’ve taken12 of my yearsfrom meBut None of that crossed your mindwhen it cameto your cheating heartWhen you sat me downIn this old chairTo tell me you no longer cared...I’ll be a rockI gotta keep rolling on.

p.p1 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Helvetica} p.p2 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Helvetica; min-height: 16.0px} p.p3 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px 'Helvetica Neue'; color: #4a4f56} p.p4 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px 'Helvetica Neue'; color: #4a4f56; min-height: 15.0px} The theme this week is rap, and our hosts tackle it like any white middle class english men would: with embarrassing enthusiasm and beats stolen from Dre.This week’s pieces:CHARLIEMiss Bliss and Mister Blister She’s sunshine’s brighter sister, with theGist of her rays and her ways And her warm lazy gaze but not seeing Lookin’ but not being alive to the facts That where she’s warm, he lacks Any form of human quality at all But just a short lesson from this rapping impression This guy keeps me guessing’ but he keeps on impressin’ herBENBicycle FaceI rode into the windand I got disfiguredFound no kinda gunCould get me triggered Chose harder higher gearsto push through the years Working uphill for fear of going down I Tried to break And I brokeDown Each passing place I passed the same Ticking off time And tasks the same Making me a machine My bike, my brain Got clogged with clay Saw the next place Refused to passLeft me laying On the cold damp grass These working daysAnd our working waysPut every play in the pastWe are burning our way During our stay In order to travel through fastMATTDraggin’ I don’t take time to get to speed Accelerating, Never need More than what I’ve got — I’m never sweating any beads L-A-S-S I’m here to burn the finish line Smoking all these suckers In my mirrors they’re behind me. Taking the lead,Taking the top team To the limit and winning, Never stopping or giving Anything away This has always been my day For you this is do or die For me this is playtime Hold the red light I don’t want you disqualified I’m here to see your face On the video rewind V-E-G-A, yeah that’s me Taking it above and beyond The whole scene.

After weeks of solidly sensible stanza, will our hosts rise to the bait and write a silly one? The answer is: No. No. Yes. To find out what that means, you’ll just have to listen. BEN The Best Deal I got the Best Deal And three TVs in my room I like to use the the phone But no one seems to be home I got the Best Deal but Doing nothing I’d have more These white trash are just like me But they’re poor I got the Best Deal But that bum has more than me 8 billion dollars more And he sleeps there for free I got the Best Deal but They won’t let me lock the door I leave things as I want them But they clean them off the floor My wife has her own room So I can be alone With Mcdonalds for dinner In my empty white home MATT Big Money You’re always unbearable when I’m not in the mood And vice versa And in fact, of course — everything is, I’m being idiotic. Moods are stupid. A rapid list of what’s wrong what’s not happening All coinciding at the same instance: right now. "Just get over it," I think “Have a bath, and get over it” I help with the main thing, Then I say “Have a bath” And walk away, downstairs Back to my book. As I begin to read, My mind is distracted That in fifty years I hope I’ll get to say: "Let me be devoted, a little while longer Yours is the only love I've ever truly wanted” I stop. Because I’ll never know when it’ll all end I should go and say that to you now. CHARLIE Big Money I got a big pot o’ honey They call me big money I’m a storage hunter With all them other munters But no one knows the real me They just go off a what they see Big money, big funny, big dummy Got a pot full of fam, pot full of friends They’ll be there till the endz My pots full of life, pots full of strife Pots full of love from above and beyond The millis don’t make me nor will they take me Big money just ain’t me And given that Matt requested Trump translation of Ben’s piece, here’s the the first line in Trump speak: This is a very good looking group of people here. Could I just go around so I know who the hell I'm talking to... I got the best deal. My hands can hit a golf ball 285 yards. (Courtesy of http://www.donaldtrumptranslator.com/)

This week’s theme is an invitation to the nasty ball, but how will our hosts RSVP? Will Matt and Ben cast off their nice guy shackles? Will Charlie pull a muscle trying to get there early? Is he, in fact, already there? Listen in to find out. This week also featured the second piece in Ian’s Listener Residency. MATT Friends, I cannot stand — This tiresome twist Drinking to oblivion, I’ve done before But on your birthday Is quite remiss of me. Was I charming? I distinctively recall boorishly announcing the of arrival my favourite waitress And blaming the cigarette For the vomit. Please, Give me time — I’ll choose which path to take One of drunken bastardness Or tedious sobriety. CHARLIE I'm told that I'm a free man But oppression always says that Years ago, I would have been fused to the land Giving up everything I grew That may be in the past But today, I have to do a podcast. BEN Master Paul Charles Peyton Higgitt Dreamt of a status beyond his limit He wanted his last name to last much longer He thought both barrels would make him stronger But despite a future in learning and law He filed the papers with one fatal flaw Like a child on christmas He rushed to the post Opened his present While toasting his toast And discovered that much to his middle class shame He’d gone double-barrelled And kept both middle names Master Paul Charles Peyton Peyton-Higgitt Dreamt of a status that he couldn’t mimic A costly education cost him dearly He could not stand his family to live so nearly He went to the big apple to make big money Where he hoped his big name would not seem so funny IAN The Coat It hangs, flowing vessels of muscle, and the touch is soft like the skin I connect with it. The smell it releases brings back concoctions of deadly potions that used to keep me lingering. The smell turns to taste and sits in the back of my mouth, smoothing over buds, bringing a familiar flavour. As the vessels sway,the gentle sound of fabric on fabric, pulls back memories of sleeves that wisp in the wind, like searching fingertips. The coat looks old and battered like the tree we would always see. Watching as things blossomed, watching as winter came.

We’ve heard that it’s hard to rock a rhyme that’s right on time. In fact, it’s tricky. So how will our hosts do as they face their first week of compulsory rhyme? There’s only two ways to find out, either you listen to this show or you ask a friend to do it for you. The former seems easier. This week also featured a piece from listener Ian. Thank you Ian.To read the piece in full, visit the blog on verygood.org.uk

Our hosts face their greatest challenge to date, writing a sincere piece on the theme of canine extra shagging. Never one to shirk a challenge, they grit their teeth, rise to the challenge, and other euphemisms. This week also features a piece by listener David Grumball. To submit your pieces, email yourenearlydead@gmail.com To read the pieces in full, visit the blog on verygood.org.uk

p.p1 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Helvetica} p.p2 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Helvetica; min-height: 16.0px} Welcome to the second and fifth episode of You’re Nearly Dead, a titling convention that proves we’re great at writing. This week our hosts respond to the theme in three very different ways, drawing on death, the environment, and posterity. Plus discussions of public nudity and intimate shaving. For copies of all the pieces featured, visit the blog on verygood.org.ukMusic, as always, by MCG

In an episode that’s inspired by the word ‘Wildlife’ but very largely about other things, our hosts present three very rapidly written pieces. Ben’s is largely to annoy Charlie. Charlie’s is about a dog, but not about a dog. Matt’s sounds like Samuel Beckett, who he’s never heard of. To read the pieces in full, visit the blog on verygood.org.uk

This week our hosts address a variety of occupiers, from the metaphorical to the metaphorical. Plus our first listener submission, some righteous smack talk about Will Smith, and Charlie is a superb dick about Matt’s piece. Apologies for the sound quality, Matt & Charlie are in Norway, but we didn’t want to miss a week. To read the pieces in full, visit the blog on verygood.org.uk

You're Nearly Dead is a podcast about taking creative chances and risking failure. In each episode, lifelong scribblers Charlie, Matt, and Ben bring a piece of writing, written to theme, and share them with each other and the listeners.In this, the first official episode of their (almost) brand new podcast, our hosts reveal their responses to the title 'Wedded'. To read the pieces in full, visit our blog on VeryGood.org.uk