The Wasted Life Swindle

My first proper diary – Book One

2 July 1987 – March 1988

The following transcript is my first ever diary, handwritten starting 1987. I vaguely recall one before that was a list of my dreams, but this is what is surviving.

This was nearly 40 years ago now. For some context, at the time I was unemployed, had left school early with no qualifications. I had spent four years inside one room of an empty house with agoraphobia.

At the time, my identity was a product of my sister’s influence; looking back this influence was a deliberate attempt to sabotage my life, although if I can finish the rest of this project, you’ll see she wasn’t successful. She had gotten me into punk, punk music and the punk ideal, or deliberately not achieving anything in life. I had taken this on board and at the time was obsessed with the punk band The Sex Pistols and especially Sid Vicious, the bass player. I was essentially trying to find my way in life and have a deity to worship. The design of the diary was copied from a Sex Pistols album cover and throughout the book I collected any newspaper clippings about the band and made comments, usually against the idea of “growing up”, which I think meant taking part in mainstream society.

Originally the book had photos I had taken stuck in but they were removed about 20 years later when I copied everything onto digital film. I’ll include them here if I come across them soon.

There are references to my “white coat”, a coat I didn’t like mother had given me, and I think it’s an indication of my lingering social phobia and shyness, which I didn’t write about at the time. Yasmine is my sister and Geoff my brother.

I legally changed my name during this period. I had been named without any thought, basically after some film star my mother liked. So I legally changed it to a first name after the Sex Pistols player, and a surname after a character I had liked in a TV series (Johnny Jarvis) about a misfit, loner character who didn’t get on with anyone and just drifted through life. I wanted to be like this I think, just leave this situation and live some other life, but I didn’t know what or how.

There are references to signing on for “social”, i.e. unemployment benefit. It was hard as I had no work record due to agoraphobia, so the idea was to put me on my mother’s books in business or my brother’s friend as a past employee, just so it looked like I had been existing somewhere. As it turned out, this fight to exist somewhere would be a lifelong struggle.

Tierney is Darren Tierney, an Irish kid and my best friend from school. We kind of stayed lifelong friends until he drank himself to death twenty years later.

I did get my only ever job during this period. As I state, it paid me 50 pounds a week because I was under 18. I found a cheap room for 30 a week but couldn’t really make it work financially.

There is another diary after this, along the same lines. I have kept my diary writing up for nearly 40 years and recently went through and found out that I have pretty much all of it. These first two books are the “lost punk years” thanks to my sister. At the end of this period, I started visiting the town occult shop and this became my new obsession, as did a long magickal practice, a seven-month magickal ritual to transform my life. Within months of this finishing I found myself living on the other side of the world, getting two degrees, publishing my work, having various adventures and ending up with quite a unique spiritual practice of awakening and attainment which I hope to explain alongside this.

Hard to imagine all this emerged from such a bleak early start of nihilism, unemployment and depression.

[Sticker on outside]
The first diary ever. Childish obsessed by a pop group. Spirituality slowly approaching.

Front outer cover
First diary started 86. Ripped now.
2 July 87 to March 88. Book one.
[title on front cover] The Wasted Life Swindle

Thursday 2 July 1987

time: 10.37 am.

I decided to call for him about midday. I did have doubts about going because it’s a bit sunny and I’ve only got my stupid white coat and I don’t know if it looks ok.

time: 5.35.

I met him at the back of All Saints Church at half eleven. We played music on these slab things. Then we noticed we were sitting on gravestones. After that we met two of his mates and went to the pub, the Bull and Butcher.

When we got back to the shop Tierney saw his mum and gave her his whole wage packet. So he was just like the old days, always skint. I quite enjoyed myself but I think I prefer staying at home.

Photo guide [photos were removed at a later date].

Photo one. Me as I looked in my stupid white coat.
Photo two. Where we met.
Photo three. Bull and Butcher.
Photo four. Where Tierney works.
Photo five. Tierney at the boozer.
Photo six. Me at the boozer.

[Newspaper clipping about one of the great train robbers]
Comment: So that’s what happened to him.

Wednesday 1 July 1987

I haven’t seen Tierney since I saw him last Thursday. I thought I wouldn’t bother again but he caught me in the [missing] meet him at lunchtime to the cinema.
Comment. The page is ripped and unreadable.

Thursday 9 July 1987

Time: 1.43 pm.

I saw Tierney and we went to The Butcher.

He said he might come to London but I doubt he will. I saw Julia Wreford on the way back. She was waiting for a prescription. She used to sit in front of me in maths. She said hello but I didn’t think to talk because I was too drunk.

Friday 10 July 1987

Time: 12.07.

Tierney said he’d ring but he didn’t. I might see him Saturday but I might not bother.

[A clipping about John Lydon.]
Comment: I found this in the paper. I thought it was his girlfriend. I think he might have grown up as Sidney Lodge predicted.

The Great Waste of Life Swindle

Lesson 1. Realise the Pointlessness of it All. In the beginning you are born. Then you wait. 125,798,400 seconds until you start your sentence at school. 337,395,200 seconds later you start work. 1,542,130,400 seconds until you retire.

786,240,500 seconds until you die.

(All figures approximate.)

Somewhere in between you get married and have children.

All in all that adds up to 2,791,564,500 seconds. You leave the earth with the same as you entered it. Nothing.

With nothing in between.

Friday 17 July 1987

Time 4.34.

Geoff’s mate said he wouldn’t do the books, Swindle. So I got my giro. Mum’s back today so maybe she’ll do it.

There are still drawbacks though.

1. You only get £17 a week.
2. You have to move on every 4 weeks.
3. You have to wait 13 weeks for it.
4. When you sign on they’re often punch ups.

[Another clipping about the great train robbery]
Comment: In the news twice in 4 days. This is becoming a habit. So it’s in the news. He’s a bit of a hypocrite though. He condemns them for using shooters. But he coshed the driver and killed him. I think.

Saturday 18 July 1987

Time 5.15 am.

Yesterday I went to town and saw Scott Robinson on his bike. He’s a friend from way back.

Mum’s back but I haven’t heard from her yet. Geoff came back and popped in. But I was in bed so I missed him.

I keep getting splitting head pains. Hence the paracetamol on the inside cover. The weather’s really wintry so I can go out again without my white coat.

Friday 24 July 1987

Time 9.40 pm.

I saw mum and she bought me a bottle of 80% proof rum. After every swig I lose my voice.

I also saw Geoff and he bought me the Great Rock’n’Roll Swindle on video. I watched it and it was pretty good. I also got an inside story Sex Pistols book so I know which parts of the film were bullshit. It had Sid singing My Way, which was the best bit.

Other news:

1. Mum said she might put me on the books for the social.

2. Tierney came and said to call in in the next two days. Then there’s a clipping about a new road to Billing with my comment. That would be good publicity for them, referring to my mother’s business.
Then there’s a photo of John Lydon in a newspaper with the comment: “That’s funny. That’s the second time I’ve seen him with a pint glass in his hand.”

[Then there’s a clipping from the local paper about a “Sherry Trickster” smashing a door, whom I knew] This is my mate in the paper. He always was a bit funny. That’s £1765.62p altogether.

3. Tierney, Ali and Spatcher came by today. I sleep in the day now, so they woke me up. I was polite etc but I was a bit pissed off. Still, if it rains tomorrow I’ll go to town.

Friday 31 July 1987

time 11.59 pm.

It was raining so I didn’t go. Anne rang up and said Tierney called. He asked her to cash a dodgy cheque. His mum probably does it and banks the money for him. He’s also not supposed to go round with me or Spatcher. I think I’ll send his mum a note about what he’s doing. Then I might get some decent sleep-ins. Sometimes I’m the vindictive little bastard. Yasmine got beat up by Phil again and I’m babysitting for her tomorrow at 8.30 pm.

Time 3.11 am same day.

John Lydon had just been on telly again. He said it was boring and he’s going to be touring Finland soon.

[Then there’s a letter that I sent to Tierney’s mum, folded and unreadable].

[Next there’s a postcard from my brother. Just a quick note to say hello. Something about working pretty hard. It’s upside down.]

[The next page has a picture of my mother’s television playing The Great Rock and Roll Swindle. Then there’s a clipping from the newspaper showing The Rock and Roll Years coming on TV with a comment: “I specially bought a videotape for this and it was only on a few seconds.”]

Wednesday 5 August 1987

time 3.37 am.

I’m going to the solicitor tomorrow to get name change done legal. I’ve finally decided on a name.

[Name withheld from publication]

The last is after an MP. Just as an insult. I’ve even got a snazzy signature autograph, not that anybody asked for it.

The only problem now is every time I say my name, people laugh. I’ve been to the solicitor and it was dead simple. It only costs £20 plus VAT and they’ll be ready by Monday.

You get this deed thing and they say go round the banks etc. I’m also getting a 10-year passport on Monday. I’m also going to get a suit to go to Paris.

Soon it will be the 8th anniversary of Nancy’s death so I’ll do something special.

Saturday 8 August 1987

I’ve been to town with Geoff but the suits are crap. There’s none in black and they’re all flares.

I saw Remes in Debenhams. I saw Andrew Sturgis on the steps to Zetta of Bingo Hall. He was quite a laugh at school. Once he sat on me and tipped ink all over me. Another time he was winding up the school wimp and the wimp turned round and stabbed him. Anyway, getting back to Andrew, he now works at a post office at one pound eighty per hour.

He’s the first one not on the YTS. He asked what I was doing and I said, “You know me.” While I was in there, I was getting bored so I took a sip of rum and Geoff pulled back the curtain. I was in the changing room. I’ve never been so embarrassed. As we were going home, we saw Yas. So we all went into The Butcher. When we got back to Anne’s, the garage had been broken into. So we called the pigs. This made me late. So when we took Yas back, Phil had a go at her.

Friday 21 August 1987

John was on Network 7 a couple of Sundays ago. He seems to have grown up a bit. Sid was right again. He’s slagged off the pistols a lot. He probably means it. But it could be because he doesn’t get royalties from the pistol things no more. So he wants to put people off buying it.

Saturday 5 September 1987

Time 3.25 pm

This morning John was on TV and he didn’t say much. I’d just watched Captain Sensible on Night Network. He says he used to live with Sue Catwoman and Sid Vicious. They used to have fights and he taught Sid how to play bass. He said Malcolm had a lot to do with Sid’s death because he always said they wanted to go mad. When Sid died, I bet Malcolm was well pleased because it was just publicity for the film.

[Then there’s a comment about Steve Jones next to a comment about “growing up”.]

Saturday 29 August 1987

Time 11.45 pm

I was watching Network 7 and there was this hard display. At the end credits you see they were designed by Vivienne Westwood. She didn’t know when she was well off.

[Here there is a comment to a removed picture of me self-mutilating my chest and being covered in blood].

This is a picture of Geoff after he got mugged in Kettering. This is the playground where me and Adam Winkworth met Marie and Tiana. This is the aforementioned Sherry Trickster. I used to go and see him a lot. He lives in the same house as Frankie with a load of punks. Then I didn’t see him for ages. I went back about four weeks ago and he’s turned really bloody weird. His bed’s in his cupboard and he’s sick, blown and pissed. Then he did nothing but mumble and shout at me. I decided not to see him again.

[Note unreadable section due to a ripped page.]

The next day I went to London with Yasmine.

We all went to all the places we knew the pistols had been to. I did have loads but I got really tired traipsing about so I only did a few.

[following are references to removed photographs]
Yasmine in Hyde Bridge. I did have a photo of me in Tower Bridge but I lost it. I’ll stick it in later if I find it. This is the 100 Club in Oxford Street. We saw Ben from Curiosities but killed the cat. It’s a shame, I think he’s crap. This is Shaftesbury Avenue. Matrix Best was supposed to be but now it seems to have gone. The Job Centre. I just took the first one with a reasonable wage enough to live on.

I finally ended up with a job. I know it goes against my principles but I had to get out. I went for a job at the Carlos Remes Lighting Company. 2 to 10 Thenford Street, Northampton and New Quebec Street, London. Ms. Niels handled the interview and it didn’t go too well. I think my couldn’t-care-less attitude came across but it was just before Christmas and I think they were desperate for someone.

So they offered me a job as a shrink wrapper. Shrink wrapping lampshades. Only £50 a week but I thought that’s enough to live on.

So I took it. The people there were okay I suppose but it took… But I took a deliberate stance so as not to get to know them. But it was impossible to because I spent so much time with them.

I’ll make a list explaining what they’re like.

Joey the Foreman. He’s originally Austrian and about 50. He’s fair so I believe he’s okay and easy to get on with.

Dale Freeman, warehouse assistant. He’s the one I worked with once but we don’t get on. I think he wanted to be one of the lads but because I didn’t go in material when inviting him to my parties he decided not to go on with me. Apart from that I wouldn’t call him a bad bloke.

Tony, He’s Polish and a complete gorm. Just before Christmas I was switched and I worked with him. I got to know him a bit better then. He’s the only one in the factory who gives me a good morning every day. So I think he’s okay.

Johnathen, pot man. He comes across as gay but he’s okay. He bought me a piece of Sid Vicious poster for Christmas. He has good days and bad days but he’s bubbly and makes the days seem shorter.

Jason, he’s a bit of a skinhead and I just got to know him better in the last couple of days.

Steve, I still don’t speak to him.

Mark Flecker. I got to know him last week when he helped me with my machine. He’s cheerful and I like him.

Kath, lampshade maker. She joined after I did. She’s a bit of a rabbiter and she just got engaged. We both love Brookside so we both have something to talk about. She’s easy to get on with.

About the short AI film (coming soon)

Here’s the exact 60–90-second cinematic flow I’m building from my real 1987 photographs and the words in this diary. No cartoonish punk costumes — just ordinary teenage boys in normal clothes, long hair, cheap jeans, lost in a small English town.

Overall structure – 6 short acts

The Room (0:00–0:12) – Trapped
The White Coat (0:12–0:25) – Fear of the outside world
The Wasted Life Swindle (0:25–0:45) – Nihilism as the only armour I had
Tierney & the Pub (0:45–1:00) – Brief flashes of connection
Name change / London trip (1:00–1:15) – First act of self-creation
Fade to the future (1:15–end) – The spark that eventually carried me to the other side of the world

Scene-by-scene AI prompts (ready for Kling / Runway / Luma)

Scene 1 – The Room (very slow zoom in)
“1987 teenage bedroom in a rundown English council house, dim yellow bulb, peeling wallpaper, Sex Pistols posters curling at the edges, a boy with long dyed-black hair sitting on the edge of an unmade bed staring at the floor, thick oil-painting texture, cold blue-grey light from a small window, oppressive silence”

Scene 2 – The White Coat (hand-held, anxious)
“Teenage boy in an oversized cheap white coat he clearly hates, standing at the front door paralysed, hand on the door handle but unable to open it, sunny day outside but he’s terrified, slight camera shake, muted 1980s British street in background”

Scene 3 – The Wasted Life Swindle (montage, fast cuts)
Quick flashes:
• Hand ripping “The Great Rock’n’Roll Swindle” poster
• Close-up of the handwritten title “The Wasted Life Swindle” in red marker
• Newspaper clippings being glued in, fingers smudged with Pritt Stick
• A homemade cardboard countdown clock ticking down millions of seconds
• Boy screaming silently at the sky

Scene 4 – Tierney & the Pub (first warmth)
“Two ordinary teenage boys with long hair laughing on gravestones behind a church, portable tape player blasting Sex Pistols, cigarette smoke, weak English summer sun, brief moment of real joy, grainy VHS aesthetic”

Scene 5 – Name change / London trip (turning point)
• Close-up of a deed-poll document being signed with a new chosen name
• Boy on the top deck of a red double-decker bus clutching a carrier bag, looking out at London for the first time
• Grainy shots of the 100 Club door, Tower Bridge at dusk, Shaftesbury Avenue neon
• Final shot: boy standing under a streetlight looking up at the sky with the tiniest hint of hope

Scene 6 – Fade to the future (slow dissolve)
The same boy under the same streetlight, but the image slowly morphs: the white coat disappears, the hair gets shorter, the streetlight brightens into strong sunlight, palm trees and blue sky bleed in behind him — he’s on the other side of the world. End on the open diary page that reads “Hard to imagine all this emerged from such a bleak early start…”

Sound & voice-over

Very lo-fi cassette recording of “Anarchy in the UK” that slowly pitch-shifts into gentle ambient (or a single distorted guitar chord resolving into birdsong).
Optional whispered voice-over (my own voice pitched younger):
“I think I prefer staying at home.” → (later) “Soon it will be the 8th anniversary of Nancy’s death… I’ll do something special.”

I’ll embed the finished film here as soon as it’s ready.

About the short AI film (coming soon)

Overall structure – 6 short acts

The Room (0:00–0:12) – Trapped
The White Coat (0:12–0:25) – Fear of the outside world
The Wasted Life Swindle (0:25–0:45) – Nihilism as the only armour I had
Tierney & the Pub (0:45–1:00) – Brief flashes of connection
Name change / London trip (1:00–1:15) – First act of self-creation
Fade to the future (1:15–end) – The spark that eventually carried me to the other side of the world

Scene-by-scene AI prompts (ready for Kling / Runway / Luma)

Sound & voice-over

I’ll embed the finished film here as soon as it’s ready.

Graphic-novel version (in progress)

A 24-page graphic-novel adaptation is also being created. Consistent style: 1980s British small-town realism, heavy ink lines, muted watercolor/acrylic texture — no exaggerated punk clichés, just ordinary awkward teenagers in normal clothes.

Ready-to-use image prompts

1987 rundown council-house bedroom, dim yellow bulb, peeling floral wallpaper, Sex Pistols posters curling at the corners, a thin teenage boy with long dyed-black hair sitting on the edge of an unmade single bed staring blankly at the floor, heavy ink lines, muted watercolor texture, cold blue-grey light from a small window, oppressive silence
Close-up of the same boy’s face reflected in a cracked bedroom mirror, eyes hollow, safety pin holding a torn poster behind him, soft acrylic texture, muted palette
Boy standing frozen at the front door of a terraced house, hand on the handle but unable to open it, wearing an oversized cheap white coat he clearly hates, bright sunny day outside, muted 1980s British street in background, anxious expression, ink lines, watercolor wash
Wide shot: boy in the hated white coat finally stepping outside, squinting against the light, looking small and lost on an ordinary Northampton street, 1987 cars, heavy ink outlines, soft colour
Handwritten diary cover: “The Wasted Life Swindle” scrawled in red marker on a battered school exercise book with a ripped Sex Pistols “Never Mind the Bollocks” sticker, lying on a bedroom floor, dramatic overhead angle
Close-up of glue-covered teenage fingers sticking a newspaper clipping about John Lydon into the diary, Pritt Stick and scattered clippings on the carpet
Boy sitting cross-legged on bedroom floor surrounded by newspaper cuttings and felt-tip pens, writing the “Great Waste of Life Swindle” life-in-seconds calculation, intense concentration, ink and watercolor
Two ordinary teenage boys (long hair, no punk costumes) sitting on old gravestones behind a church, portable tape player between them blasting music, weak summer sun, laughing, cigarette smoke, grainy 1980s feel
Same two boys inside a dark, sticky-floored pub (The Bull & Butcher), one handing his entire wage packet to his mum at the bar, the other looking awkward in the background
Boy alone again in his bedroom at night, rain against window, staring at the white coat hanging on the door like a ghost
Boy filling in a DHSS form with a biro, frustrated expression, pile of failed forms screwed up on the floor, 1980s dole office posters in background
Solicitor’s office: boy signing deed-poll document with new chosen name, cheap suit two sizes too big, nervous half-smile, ink lines, muted tones
Boy on the top deck of a red double-decker bus clutching a carrier bag, first time in London, wide-eyed, passing Tower Bridge at dusk
Grainy shot of the 100 Club door on Oxford Street, boy standing outside looking small against the city
Boy standing under a streetlight at night looking up, the tiniest hint of hope on his face, long hair, normal clothes, soft watercolor sky
Factory floor: boy in a nylon overall shrink-wrapping lampshades, bored expression, fluorescent lights, other workers blurred in background
Close-up of factory colleagues: Joey the Austrian foreman smiling, Tony the Polish guy giving a thumbs-up, Kath the engaged lampshade maker chatting
Boy back in the bedroom writing in the diary by torchlight under the covers, determined expression
Montage panel: calendar pages flipping from 1987 to 1988, diary getting thicker, occult shop flyers starting to appear among the Sex Pistols clippings
Boy standing outside a tiny occult shop in Northampton, bell above the door, curious but hesitant, ink and watercolor
Same boy years later, same streetlight, but now the white coat is gone, hair shorter, sunlight starting to break through, palm trees faintly visible in the distance — slow morph panel
Final panel: open diary on a table somewhere sunny, the line “Hard to imagine all this emerged from such a bleak early start…” visible, soft tropical light falling across the page
(Optional cover) The diary lying open on grass under a palm tree, the white coat folded neatly beside it like a shed skin, bright sunlight, 1987 and present overlapping
(Optional back cover) Faint silhouette of the teenage boy waving goodbye to his old bedroom window from the other side of the world

Pages will be added here as they’re completed.