Wednesday, January 30, 2008


Boris: my heroin

While putting together the rest of the story I started in my last post, I have decided to emulate some of London's mayoral candidates and recommence using heroin.

Yes, I know. I'm sorry. 'Recommence' is such an ugly, Latinate word. I should have said 'start... again'. My bad, as they say.

I can't help it, really. The smack use, I mean. Three months of listening to the Velvet Underground and Iggy Pop. Failing to dodge billboards with Kate and Pete Moss's drawn, fucked faces. Economic collapse. Utterly stupid, self-deluding, self-righteous non-entities, drunk with power, robbing us blind and clinging to their jobs because nobody gives a rat's arse, really. Our glass-eyed leader, his fingers steepled before him as his rotten, feculent dream decays before his eyes.

Vote Boris, if you can, and if you want more hard drugs on the streets. At least that way you don't have to be conscious when it all hits the fan.

I'm sorry, I think I'm going to be


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