fuckin fuckin fuckin hell one of my favourite writers from back in the days died last tuesday, after finally losing his battle with cancer aged only 49. A bloody inspiration he began his career in Yorkshire as a "ranting poet", with more than
twice the wit of any of his contemporaries, and he joined the NME in
1983 as the pseudonymous Susan Williams, and was a freelance journalist
for the paper for more than 25 years. Acerbic and witty, he seemed to cut out the bullshit that seems so prevalent nowadays.No such thing as a perfect human being, though oh no,but he used to cut down to the chase and take no prisoners.Am more upset about this than fuckin michael jackson.
Although Swells initially made his name as a poet, his real strength was as a stream-of-consciousness prose writer. His book Tits-Out Teenage Terror Totty
is a sustained assault on the idea of what the novel should be, and it
is stuffed with his crazy word play – brilliant turns of phrase like ‘a
pol potpurri’. After his move from London to the USA, Swells was writing
for the Philadelphia Weekly, and some of the best writing he did came in the last few years of his life
and concerned his illness. His last ever column for the Philadelphia
Weekly was published here . you can find links to other pieces by him HERE
His anger should be suitably celebrated. Fuck the bnp and any other closet racists, lets celebrate our differences/ This blog is inspired by people likeWells, no time now for cutting corners,gotta try more to do it myself and possibly inspire others .Steven Wells let him rage in peace.in this age of mediocrity . We have to try and keep burning.Tomorrow feels like 1979 again, the nations turning blue. Sorry if there a tear in my eye but .rage rage against the dying of the light try and keep dancing
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