Alone, Alone, A Loon, A Loon

Is it just me or is the internet eerily quiet at the moment? Maybe it’s something to do with the hot weather, or maybe everyone’s on holiday. I don’t know. Maybe you’re all locked in a dank toilet pleasuring yourselves with tingle-lube. Or maybe, better still, you’re all too busy stroking each other’s napes or nibbling each other’s perinea to bother with all this virtual nonsense. Well, good for you. I’m very happy for you, and not at all jealous.

No, not at all. I'm perfectly happy here on my own, treading sulphur in this mighty, murky slough of despond. Don't worry about me. You shits.

The good news is, I may have found a flat in North London, although not until October or November, but it’s looking good. Even better news is that I have discovered that North London is full of really excellent characters. Not the bog-standard God-botherers and lobotomy-dodgers you get in South East London, but a much, much higher class of God-botherers and lobotomy-dodgers.

This lady I spied in Kentish Town a little while ago for example. It was blowing an absolute gale, and yet still she stood, cleaved to the side of the road trying with all her might to foist a Messiah flyer into the godless mitts of unsaved passers-by.




And just a few days ago I came across this wildly unstable individual in Exmouth Market.




My hands were shaking so much through utter terror that I was unable to take a decent photo. But here’s another one of him lurching toward me.




Aaaaah, North London. I can't wait.

In other news, I have finally caught up with replying to recent comments. Most of you won’t care I know, but one or two of you might, and it’s for you that I mention it now.

Have a great day.

You shits.