10 April 2005

Where is middle england? Who the fuck are these people? Have I spent so long in drug-addled south-east Wales (Which isn't even part of wales, if you listen to everybody outside of the south-east - and quite a few inside) that I've lost touch with all other aspects of british humanity? These people sound like the devil in sweats, driving around in 4x4s screaming hysterically about pederasts and asylum seekers. Where an innocent photographer can be accused of all kinds of filthy perverse atrocities just for taking pictures. These people hold the key to parlimentary power aparently, and their whim can turn a campaign on its head.

Still, I guess you can't blame them for wanting to get out of London; a place where you will be shoved to the ground and trampled to death for daring to move too slow. Where a night out consists of wandering around from ridiculous queue to ridiculous queue, trying vainly to find somewhere to go that isn't heaving with sweaty hipsters, media assholes and yuppies before finally giving up, getting a mcdonalds and going home. Believe me, I have very good sources.

I need to get the fuck out of this country before my sensitive creative temperment is warped beyond all repair.