Cultural Misunderstanding circa 1980

A friend of mine named Dave anecdoted
A lucid moment from youthful crazy 70's days;
A bad happening filtered through the purple haze
Of clouded memory as if replayed just yesterday.
He lived in London during deadbeat single times
Or subsisted on beer mostly in one bed-sit room,
I can still recall vividly his having this dingy tomb
For a bolt-hole, well a complete shit-hole I'd say
If forced to recapture some sundry drunken visits
To this uninhabitable subterranian pit in suburbia.
“Can’t you ever open a window?”
I chided as lager fumes invaded and
Even offended my face and space.
“They’re painted solid,” said Dave
“Get a new landlord mate,” I said
“Or better yet another place.”

He was telling me details of this quirky day
A resident troglodyte and he had interplay;
Said guy, a rock star once, now in faded flairs
Down in the world and living upstairs
From my mate, was then at his lowest direst state,
Not in the band but literal dire straits being that desperate,
He was forced by fate to descend and knock Dave’s door.
“Got any bread man?” - the rockguy's plea
“I might have some rolls…or maybe ..”
My old mate offered - he meant real bread d'y'see -
“I might have some slices left .. in the cupboard."
Clueless naïve Dave from a tiny village oop North
An uncool in the old sense Phil: “Very funny!
Man, have you got any fucking money?”
Silly Dave to father then tell this story;
Would I tell on him? You bet sir!
And dine out on with no regret
In all its schaudenfreude glory.

......... A true story this involving the founder of the PRETTY THINGS* a moderately famous at one time PhIL MAY & a fully anonymous Dave to protect his remaining reputation and to spare his blushes ..... sorry Dave, for exposing you on the world web. *there's a link I found to an interview with Phil May which is insightful to the r&r life he led
www.richieunterberger.com/may1.html