Music: Write Like Apes


Between taking feminine painkillers and bargaining with pharmacists, Fight Like Apes’ Pockets asks how shit are these new codeine regulations?

I can’t deal with it anymore. Is there anything more smug than a pharmacist asking you what you want Solpadeine for, all decked out in their tidy whites, prim and proper, when you clearly have a hangover and just want to feel that little bit better?

“It’s to do my fucking gardening!” a friend of mine told them recently.

I can’t deal with anymore. The barrage of questioning, the knowing glances, that glint in their eyes that says: “I’m onto you”. Of course you’re onto me. It’s two o’clock, it’s a Tuesday, I’m wearing shorts, I can barely look you in the eyes. Do I really expect you to believe that I’ve got an allergy to all other medicine apart from Solpadeine and that I broke both of my ribs last night in a mysterious skateboarding accident?

“Have you ever heard of Nurofen?”

Oh here we go. Let’s make with the inferior brands. It’s like going to buy a pair of Nike Air Jordans and coming out with fucking sandals.

“Did you know that Solpadeine is harmful to the liver?”

Horse, look at the state of me. I clearly reek of booze and I was clearly out last night. Do I really look like a lad who cares about his liver at this exact moment in my life? I want to feel better! I’m not going to burn twelve of them on a spoon and hardwire them to my veins.

I’ve even tried Feminax at this point. I was worried I was going to grow tits for a while.

Luckily I’ve finally perfected my spiel. I went in, in my shorts and my Nikes (tremendously comfortable footwear) and told them I needed it for my girlfriend, as it was her time of the month, all the other painkillers make her sick. They didn’t believe me of course.

During the course of my inquisition, I flat out told them: “Listen, I’m not being funny, boss, but my bird is a fucking nightmare at the moment as you can imagine. If I come home with anything less than Solpadeine I’m going to genuinely be back in here with two broken ribs and you’re gonna have to give me the Solpadeine regardless.” Laughs all round, Solpadeine in pocket, pharmacist in pocket. Now I just have to make twelve last a month.