Desperate House Music Wives

Hysteria Lane.

Staines.

Essex.

It’s just approaching 8.30am on a Friday morning and already a hungry mob is baying at the door of ‘BBT’ or, for doze dat know, ‘Bree’s Bangin’ Tunes’; a record shop on the shadowy fringes of dance music culture with a bizarrely calibrated pecking order within.

Bree Van de Camp As Christmas, a Dutch Gabba immigrant born of Dlugosch stock, set up BBT with a coffee shop loan of shirty faff guildersh back in the day.
“Faaakkin’ ‘ell! I neeeed that new Quentin ‘arris tune!” brays a Burberried-up Edie ‘Lovelace’ Britt, a woman who over the years has succumbed to varying degrees of beat surrender. Happily married to King Britt for several years Edie, can’t get enough of that 4x4 sound. “Can’t fakkin’ wait to get it ‘ome and fakkin’ ‘Ave IT!! ‘Urry up Bree and open the fakkin’ door!”
“If she’s only got the one copy, you ain’t touching it wiv your sweaty mitts, Edie” replies Gabrielle Sanchez, “Bree said it’s got my fakkin’ name all over it!”
“I tell you wot,” interrupts Susan Morillo, “I’m gagging to get my hands on those new Krivit edits. Cannot fakkin’ wait!”
“Ha! I picked those up last week!” brags Lynette Jefferson Airplane. “Bree sorted me right out. You’re behind the times, innit? It’s now all about the Soap Bar a Thyme remixes by Frankie Knuckles!”
“Frankie Knuckles!? Frankie Fakkin Knuckles?!?!” squawks Edie, he’s a right old fakkin’ codger!”
“He’s only the fakkin’ Godfather of house music you fakkin’ ingrate. Personally I can’t wait to get some fakkin’ Knuckles action!”
''Oi bet you fakkin' can't you cant!''
“For me it’s all about the new fakkin’ Clausell mix album. Proper moves my body and soul he does” purrs Gabrielle. I’ll ‘ave some of Joe’s fakkin’ Jackin’ any fakkin’ day of the year!”
“Eee’s a fakkin’ hippy wot wears a tea towel on ‘is fakkin’ head, innit? I wouldn’t touch ‘im with a Kenny Hawke’s bargepole!” remonstrates Edie. “It’s all about the fakkin’ Lindstrom white label at the moment anyway. Bree’s sortin’ me right out in there. Only 100 copies in the whole of the world and you ain’t even getting’ a sniff!”
“I don’t give a fack about all that Norwegian bollocks! It’s all about Theo anyway. ‘Now That’s What I Call An Ugly Edit #33’, to be precise! Benji’s been fakkin’ caining it since this morning! Fakkin laaverly!"
“Theo’s alright for when I’m doing me hoovering” says Lynette, “but you can’t beat a bit of Timmy Regisford when you’re bonking the milkman, innit?”
“You fakkin’ slapper Lynette! You ain’t got no pride, innit? God I hope Bree opens up soon I’m gagging for some ‘ouse music me. Bladdy freezin’ me tits off as well.”
“Bladdy ‘ell! Look in the window! They’ve only gone and repressed Acid Trax! I used to proper cane that back in the day.”
“Yeah and look at that! A poster of Sasha! Ha ha! I used to think he was fakkin’ lush back in the day. I remember travelling up to Shellys in King’s beamer to see him. Fakkin’ proper ‘e was.”
“My old man used to drive me round in a beamer n’ all. Treated me like a right fakkin’ princess ‘e did. Took me up West and treated me like fakkin’ royalty. Guestlist business at all the best fakkin’ clubs. Bought me a Rottweiler called Moby. Right little cant ‘e woz. The dog not the star, although ‘e’s not all that either innit!
“Nah! It’s all about the fakkin’ newness” says Susan. That Antonio Casio Keyboard tune, Higher Pukka Love is a proper fakkin deep affair. I’m gagging to get that me.”
“Wait, wait!” interrupts Edie, “Look, look, it’s Bree!! Bree’s comin’ to unlock the fakkin’ door! WooHoo!!”
“Let’s fakkin’ ‘Ave it BREEEEEEEE!!”
“Let’s ‘AVE SOME FAAAAKIN’ ‘OUSE MUSIC!!!!”