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(pic not at all related)

To talk about Wolverhampton and inbreeding is a hack’s joke, a big town gag on smaller nearby towns the world over. But as I sit here there is no escaping that everybody around me looks oddly related.

It’s disconcerting, but I have taken a decent amount of painkillers and drank more than a safe level of beer on top – I was hoping to mitigate the normally brain wobbling effects by eating but I’ve come to one of the few places still left open in Wolverhampton and as an upshot, an hour after ordering, the food has yet to arrive.

Drinking on these painkillers has a curious effect, I feel pretty sloppy drunk even after only my second (third?) pint. But also a numbness blurs the edges of my peripheral vision and makes my brain lag behind my perception like playing X-box on a dial up connection, even if that game is a dull one where you have to hold down a reasonable conversation with another adult and extra points if you make it to the bar with falling over a table and keeping your trousers on.

The pain in my back is dulled to a sharp throb as I hobble up the stairs, I’m grateful for the medicinal barrier between the pain and my head.

“Oh YA BASTARD” a goblin jumps out from behind the top of a stairwell, all bugged out eyeballs and spindly fingers.

“Jesus Christ why?” I manage as I try to keep from tumbling backwards down the stairs. His arm reaches out and in Slo-Mo panic mode time I take in that he is, in fact, human and developing a look of shock on his face that I imagine, if arranged normally, would match my own.

Dancing around him for the toilet trying to shake the Muppet eyed lunatic from my memory.

“I thought you were someone else” he shouts from behind. No fucker deserves that, even if they do fuck their own sister. I think, but don’t say, because Wolverhampton is a different world and definitely not mine.

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