I can see one on the road and one on the other side, striding into Victoria like a deranged 14th-century pleb. ooh, that insidious tweak of the heels as they dribble up the path and the ratcheting bones of the spike jones lookalike competition winners who are dragged by their feet through the dogs mess in what used to be my adventure playground. there were nice logs. a rope slide and all sorts. but now I voyeuristically survey the half-life mentalisims that drip into view, sloping their club feet into the nearside and dribbling some kind of ridiculous bile at each other, like some mad old apes in the baboon house at banham. and those dogs.
you see, I’ve cultivated a particularly offensive highbrow backlash against you all. I see you crashing the handset against the new email client that nobody uses and staggering across my road like some neaderthal. you’re headed into the pickwick for one last argument with dave about picking up stuff for the morning job and then you’ll be off to costessey for a slap, you idiot. by the way, that shirt is rubbish. they went out in the 90s with those horrible loafers you’re wearing
apropos of which, I’m still alive. I did take a couple of days off to just stare at the tv, so I’m late again with the globalization program. but you know, there’s some things I really have to get done, and some things that I’ll just about get done, so excuse me for a minute, and stop spoiling my view, you cretin