Yvonne

Yvonne (pronounced Yuh-Von) hated her children.

Yvonne’s pubes were really long, really straight, and pulled out dead easy.

Yvonne wouldn’t pick up litter even in a school playground.

Yvonne’s belly button smelled like athlete’s foot.

Yvonne thought men’s mental health was a crock of shit and they should just get a fucking grip.

Yvonne had a Morrison’s More card but preferred her Boots’ Advantage card on a points for points basis.

Yvonne fantasises about having her tits grabbed in a car park at dusk.

Yvonne got a C at GCSE for RE. And a B in English.

Yvonne sings like a fucking angel and can play the tuba. Not that you’d know.

Yvonne’s Dad used to have sex on the laybys of the M5. With women called things like Shirley and Pat.

Yvonne had a wet perm in 1995. She went to a hairdressers called Snipso Facto and never looked back.

Yvonne never forgot Keat’s concept of negative capability, but she never knew why it stayed.

Yvonne knows you wrote about her on the toilet walls.

Yvonne has never felt more alive than when she rode a donkey.

Yvonne longs to be fingered by a stranger in the dark on the shelf in a greenhouse.

Yvonne saw Oasis in a small club in Bolton and danced with a man in a golden suit called Phillip.

Yvonne ate an onion at party to make everyone laugh.

Yvonne looked you in the eye and said it would be alright. She promised it would.

Yvonne wore shoes.

Yvonne is just Yvonne.

You know?

Do you know Yvonne?