I've gone all psychedelic now, have I?!

Friends have told me they're finding it difficult to relate to me. They tell me, they're scared of me, not in a I'm coming at you with a knife kind of way, but making one nervous being in my presence kind of way.

I enquire further and they tell me, they can't talk to me, anymore. Nobody is disputing the reasons why, but how is that my problem. I've gone all psychedelic, now have I? I recall Oprah talking about it with Tina in 2013.

She established when people told her she had changed, she disputed it, saying it wasn't her who had changed, but the reactions to her presence which had changed.

Friends have distanced themselves from me, stating that they are scared being in my presence, apart from girls, it seems

I agree. I probably have changed, but is this in any way correct to assume I've gone all psychedelic? The word conjures up images of drug artists. I am not a user. I no longer smoke cigarettes, as of two hours ago, throwing my last one out the window, choking on the smoke after chaining for twelve hours, and I am too tired to drink, finishing my final glass around fifteen hours ago.

We do this a lot. We promise ourselves we are going to give everything up, instead choosing to become tap bashers. How long does it usually last? Not very.

I am not a colour palate but I am colourful. I apologise to the old riff raff I drunk with, but it isn't my problem if you can no longer relate and don't like hearing my card tricks.

You eat pasties and live in Balsall Heath. You leave to get your fags and your chocolate and then go home texting all and sundry on the way back, before getting into bed and lighting your smoke before falling asleep with the curtains closed at half past eleven in the morning.

A great place to down your tins, the Balsall Heath canal

I've spent the last three hours dancing. I don't know what day it is, I don't know what my name is and I don't have a clue what the year is. But I can find out. And that is the most important point. I can find out.

You work at your timber yard five days a week. You miss your best mate. You miss how your bum was kissed and feeling special, and then you'll meet the lads for three pints every Friday night.

I have been out at bars and clubs every night of the week, finishing up at the casinos in the early hours of the morning, watching live golf from the States. This weekend we are taking the RS out to Zurich, and I still don't know what day it is.

I appreciate the psychedelic element to not knowing what the day is, but surely you cannot be scared of me. You enjoy how my lips work you into a warm state, whether that be song or talk or something a little more juicy.

How dare you! How dare you claim I am a psychedelic. How dare you step backwards, and for the love of God, stop eating pasties, people. You timber yard bashers, I don't recall seeing you at the lockdown gatherings. Says a lot about you. Was the coming together and having the time of our lives too much for you.

I have a bone to pick with some of these scutters. You owe me beer. “Mate, have you had me pint?” Stares, carefully and quietly. “Mate, you’ve had me pint.” Stares, grumbling, intently. “Mate you’ve had…” Swings with the left fist. Man goes flying.

In Leeds, twenty-one men are facing custodial sentences after a brawl got nasty at a bar in Leeds. Glasses were used as weapons in the attacks and chairs thrown across tables. CCTV shows a range of men in altercation. It happened at the weekend in town.

More than twenty men are facing custody following a bar brawl, Leeds

I was always the one to put my hand in my pocket for the group. I used to get called Sir in the local near me. I was the one next to the lights north side of town. In the other, next to the roundabout opposite the Indian, owner comes out from round the bar and shakes my hand thanking me for being in his place. I thanked him for thanking me. He complimented my outfit.

This really pissed off members of the group who probably wished they had been complimented, too. I ain’t bothered about the sentimentality here. I am owed beer. First round, second round, third round, fourth round… don’t worry, you can buy my beer the whole night. Fair’s, fair, lads. On that note, I’m going outside for a drag.

Look, you buy you, he buys he and I buy me and the group. That is the sort of person I am. Their cognition cannot cognit numeracy beyond the shrapnel in their pockets. Hey, contactless is a thing now. Even easier. I had to remember orders for all six. It went down well with some of the daddy’s in these places.

I don’t fart about with these fuckers anymore. It’s nice to sit in big number, but when you grow apart, you grow apart, ennit. I’ll always be there for you, guys, but bloody hell, up your game, man. Go bar and get me a few rounds and show me you’ve got a bit about you, and I might warm to you. If you canny do that, then piss off to the offee and I to the Chinese for a special curry and egg fried’s finest.

House Of Mr. Li, Boldmere Road, Sutton Coldfied, West Midlands

You want to be in my company. It’s evident. You look at me in malls, you reach out. You call me sexy on the street. You pout your lips and raise your eyebrows. This is lads, not just girls. I want to be in your company, too. I might even throw you a few old favours and pastimes. I’ll give you my number on a slip of Tesco receipt paper, but I will make you guess the last number in the ten. You’ll have ten text messages to send, and I’ll reply to the one that’s correct. I’m a making you work for that text. Response, earned.

All psychedelic aside, making way for the pièce de résistance, by way of flavours of ice cream we both have never heard of in our lifetime, before going on top the pancakes and the waffles, followed by the real dessert, a drive to a spot with a nice view before slow and firm kissing against the city backdrop at midnight. As for the lads, you still owe me beer. Where’s me beer. Settle the account de ale and then we can talk bollocks until the wee hours. You bring the jacuzzi, I’ll bring the bubbles. Any skin rashes which follow will be forwarded to the proprietor, along with a pop on the nose, or two ;)