London, Bloody London or; How I’ve Been Getting the Wrong Kind of Raped.


*Editors note – I apologise for the title. There is no right kind of raped and I don’t mean to imply that there is. It’s just a catchy title and related to the post. Rape isn’t funny or cool. It’s harsh and selfish and you have to be a different kind of cunt to do it. The kind of cunt hell wouldn’t even want. Can someone let the professional footballers know that? They seem to keep missing the memos. But anyway. To the post!

Well, that’s it! It’s been decided. Come the end of January next year I am leaving London for the last time. As I’m moving to Canada next September I thought I might as well spend my last few months in this god-damn country in a place I love, as opposed to a place I love to hate. Don’t get me wrong, London has some of the best people I’ve ever met in it and it has been home to some of my fondest memories these last four or five years.

Coming to think about it, that’s a stupid thing to have said. I’ve been in London for most of that time, so of course some of my fondest memories will be of this place. And, just because they’re my fondest it doesn’t necessarily mean they’re good memories – they could just be the best of a bad bunch. Some of my shittiest memories have been of London, too. Actually, I should have just said “All of my memories of being in London have been of being in London.” I know it’s not as poetic, but it’s factually correct. I hate living in a world of beautiful thoughts and poetic ramblings. Where are the facts? The cold, hard facts. That’s what kids want these days. Creativity had it’s chance in the 1800’s. Now is a time for science and vastly differentiating political ideologies amongst the same political party. That is the future we want. Physics and confusion. Fuck your arts and fuck your crafts.

But yeah, I’m leaving London and I’m going to do what I’ve been saying I’m going to do for years and go travel about Europe. Maybe hitch. Who knows? I might even get raped! That could be quite nice. I’ve not had any action in ages. Plus, I don;t see the point in living in the worlds most expensive country, working full-time just so I can barely afford to continue living here when I can be spending a fraction of that money living everywhere. I suppose in a sense I’m already getting raped; the only difference is no-one has an erection. Except Boris Johnston. And the fucking Tories.

Fucking twats.

Also, it’s my birthday Sunday, so if any of you Londoners want to come for a hard-core sexy skate session around the smooth, litter-free streets of West London then eat food and get shitted in East London then let me know! It will be, after all, my last UK burfday.

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