Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... Pandemic...Suicide statistics hit New Low.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... Pandemic...  Suicide Stats hit new Low!


Pandemic...Suicides reported as Depressingly Low accordingly to impressive University and City reports, sources favouring non-recognition due to potential Mob Rule and-or social- backlash Burning at the Stake situ. But it HAS become clear that SUICIDE RATES have dramatically fallen during Pandemic-thingy. Hopeless Families usually expecting their worthless Son-in-law, eternally Jobless, to WHACK himself are reporting.... has suddenly started to BRIGHTEN UP,  the SLUG nolonger reading the Betting-Sports newspapers and now SPECIFICALLY looking for an appointment in the Political arena....

MOM... I woz Gobsmacked!
PA.... He-s on Drugs!!!
Un-wed pregnant Girlfriend.... Simon has ISSUES.
Local Social Worker.... We cut down his Methadone. Clinic closed. Pandemic-thingy.

Just ONE example Folks how the present Pandemic is affecting the Usual-Anti-Social-Suspects. In the words of Dr. Yazzo-Sheik-Yaboozie, foreign dude, the fact that SOCIETY has NOW got dah PANDEMIC BLUES, the lonely, the forgotten, the Miss-fits, not just Girls, feel at ONE. the Universal OMMMMMM is touching everyone which is WHY I advise U to buy my Virulant Elexir. Its called...PICK ME UP YAZOO.
Only $50! Talk to your Corner dealer. Maureez, goes by, his name!

And THERE U have it Folks! A Forgotten-worthless Minority Un-expectedly empowered! Expect one to be shaking your Political hand in a future post-lockdown bright tomorrow....Happy Days.


c.2020 davedelacroix

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix...Pandemic...New Rules of Separation.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... Pandemic - New Rules of Attraction


Tough Gig to get a handle on... Hookers-Gigoloes offering %25 discount for new Clients to participate in SEPERATION SEX. Normally there-s a Plastic-glass Partition whilst masturbating-frantically... NOW! NO Partition, double heightened sexual-tension, just your WORD on a Bible STACK U do not get closer than 2 Meters. Pant-pant! And Used-Car Salesmen, PIMPS and Bank Managers have gotten in on the Act promising they WON-T fleece your Pockets-Underwear during Business transactions s-long as U throw Money Roll into their ever-waiting, surgical sweaty hands. Last but not least, Politicians, Democrats and Reublicans alike keep on kissing Babies though show SOME reluctance to Sexually fondle their Mothers or grown siblings. Yup! And that-s the Latest folks!..Happy Days.


c.dave delacroix, ourmanineurope. Truro, Cornwall, UK. 

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix...Pandemic Black Hole.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... Pandemic Black Hole..


.ALL the PRE-Pandemic NAZIS I have known...worked in BARS, that last refuge of the LITTLE HITLER. Twirling on their Bar-Back goose-step Pins, delivering, pedestrian Wisdom or FULL Authority, U-R OUTTA HERE BUDDY-LADY, I_m dah King-Queen BEE!... but now, alas, a Pandemic-refrain, they-re friendless, back in their BLACK HOLE.....lol.
All the Beauracrats I-ve MET, Clerks with Pens-Ink-Stamps, UNIFORMS, Papers in Triplicate, now  gone in the Pandemic breeze. And CONFUSED, people laugh IN their Face. A Yellow, faded, yesterday-shade. All the Lonely Fascists. An old Beatles Song, right where they belong, back in their BLACK HOLE.
And all those Butterflies, Eccentric-old Folks, young kids who not knowing how to give a Dam, watch how Societies Custodians Re-wire, Re-spin, Re-invent TOMORROW out of the ruins of a Stupid Yesterday to kiss their failed Laurels. The PAGEANTRY!!!.. The night is long that never finds the day. WOTCHAGONNA-DO!...It-s UP to U...

c.davedelacroix. 

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... By Dawn-s Early Light... Easter 2020.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... By Dawn-s Early Light.... Easter 2020.


IT-S NEVER TOO EARLY to drink a Bloody-Mary, never too early IN deed, or to wish someone Arrivederci!, U never knows what befalls their future need. It-s never too early to plan for Tomorrow OR deal TEXAS-HOLD-EM on the fly! The Chips, y-know, fall where they may. Sometimes U Win. And now...Sometimes U die.

It-s never too early to HUG dat Brother, Sista, Momma, POPS! Or salute the Values U esteem nor too early to Dance Life-s dance, CRY life-s tears. And NEVER too early to say, I LOVE U, but sometimes, as in the past, too late... and now we need-forego kisses and embraces.

It-s never too late to wrestle your lack of fortitude, shake off your fears-TRY to be Brave or HAIL a Hero before at once, a Martyr in his grave. Nor never too early, your Watchtower Post, to alert and save your Brethren-s fate! It-s never too early to sing that Song, to love the World where WE belong. Oh my Friend, it-s never too early but sometimes, by dawn-s early light it seems too late!

It-s never too late to stay at your Post and Prideful Watch. Your-s is No Disgrace. By Dawn-s early light, your-s is NO disgrace. To our Sticking-post we adhere!


c.davedelacroix. 2020.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... The Silver Snows.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... The Silver Snows.


dedicato. Jean Debats.


Bolshoi at Midnight, Ballet Russe in the afternoon, Pasternak, ever moderate, only the GOOD Writer gets shot or ignored. And a rendezvous in Paris or at the Nevsky-Prospect, either place, your prospects are limited as in the USA or the GREAT British-thingy, that Cricket-assumption-divinty of FAIR PLAY, the biggest CON since the Spannish Inquisition, maybe 2020 they DO Monty Python and torture U with the COMFY CHAIR, but the populous Jury is still OUT on this Gig, traced by street cameras, your PHONE, your INNER LAPTOP where swearty Goverment boys can watch U making a scene with a Virtual magazine or your Fascist neighbour jumps at a GUN! And there-s YOU getting arm wrestled to the Drunk Tank for popping a cork in your OWN pad with the Gal who sits on your sofa, panty-free... Does this happen a lot to U!... Call my Lawyer....Dont RESIST Punk!...Conversation, like thru U and ME, do we WEEP, I got the VIRUS, or cry Mercy-Mercy-ME!...Would u...FASCIST!...care to OVER-REACH Mr Policeman-please, lights flashing, Cop Radios crackling... 200 years ago, deported-exiled to AUSTRALIA, yet now even THOSE bastards have got a Kangaroo-sensibility! Downright Marsupial! OH! WOE is me! Where does my character, my INDIVIDUALITY, avast my SPIRIT...to the Guillotine, perhaps, where does it end! And a Bolshoi at Midnight, a Ballet-Russe in the afternoon, not faded but CRUSHED in the madding crowd!  Oh where, oh where FAT MARGOT, mon cheri, oh where, oh where les neige dantan, that gal I loved and the Silver snows of yesteryear...for my Soul come back to Me.


c.2020. davedelacroix, Tregolls House,, Truro, Cornwall, England.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... The Highwayman.

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix.... The Highwayman.


dedicato. Mimi. Cafe Bordeaux.


..And Sweet Glenda, who I loved so well, who trifled with my ardency, kept me at ropes end and made  me jealous, Richard, handsome Jon and Paul, diverted me so that they would call and bring gifts, engagements, escorts to the County dance or seaside trips and souveniers that wrang my heart, en-raged my Yorkshire tears, but yet, and yet, where is she now.

And sweet Dolores, who I worshipped so well. Who danced at my side then flipped my fragile Soul onto a pan of fire of disdain for her ways, a flagrant abuse of the flower of Love, who frollicked in the hay, then City-bound but would not come Up to see the wretch she had left behind, huddled in confusion on the Yorkshire moor within the heights of Doom, but, my lass, my bonnie lass, where are you now...

Psalms for Sweet Charlotte, long buried in a cold grave. A Child who hankered for me whilst, foolish, I hankered for what I craved, scattied in robust skirts round my buckle shoes, praised my aim when I failed to hunting-shoot. And playful, Re-arranged my TRi-corn hat, suggested I was Dick Turpin, a Highwayman that would carry her away, some place, some where, to Love-s Paradise!.. Oh my Charlotte! Where are you, where are you, oh  my Charlotte, where are you now...


c.davedelacroix, april, 2020. Virus-Central, Cornwall, U.K.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix.... Song of Songs.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix...   Song of Songs.


Song of Songs, idiots on Patrol, JU-JU Men in 12 Packs burning OLD WIVES TALES that once were Wisdom till VATICANO-INQUISITION issued EDICTS for their Wisdom-EXTERMINATION

....We got AUSHWITZ, BELSEN, REGENSwhossit. Bunch of Korals in Austrailia, Canada, New Zealand, pretty much everywhere the EURO-White-BOY has gone.

 What patch of LAND CONQUORED, not soiled in Native BLOOD. This SAD Song of Songs!



Song of Songs.


Louis. U need 5 Bucks!
Himmie. No! U need 10!
Louis. Gimmie a break. The Interest will kill me!
Louis. So! Go see Moe!

Song of Songs. Its in the Old Book.


Handsome George..... Master Smith! I want to marry Miss Robin. Blonde. Fair. Medium height. 180 llbs, good breeding stock, Infact, your DAUGHTER!
Master Smith..... Get long with U, young GEORGE. I-ll save her for ANOTHER.

And just like the Song an AXE swings. Body in the WELL. Nuptials took place the following Parish Sunday. Father of the Bride conspicuously absent.

Song of Songs. Its in the Old Book.

President, Prime Minister, Chairman-dude, adored, saluted, RESPECTED, walking proudly into the SENATE. Votes assured, PUBLIC ADORATION.... Maybe he was wearing the wrong COLOUR tie or Toga as 29 Dagger-Votes re-arranged his Sartorial Elegance.

Song of Songs. Its IN the Old Book!

AND FIE AND FIFE and FOE and THUMB....I smell the Devil and ALL thats Yet to come and a CURSE to curdle the blood in the veins of MEN who SPLAY a WOMAN-S divinity as the IDES of March bring retribution. A SONG of Songs. Beware the MAN who looks into his own Hellish Eternity!!!


c.2020.ides of march. davedelacroix.