wet tube

It’s been a busy week, over in the Eastend with IC on Monday, out with Swineshead and Frank on Tuesday and last night my old mucca Jools was over from NYC.

Yesterday had been another hot one in the office, the sun eventually decided to make itself known at about 11am and remained hanged in the heavens until it’s customary departure at 9-ish… After a short sweet zip back on the black bitch I briefly changed and was straight out to hit the tube, again. I can’t recall a period of my life when I’ve been so au fait with this fucking mode of transport, I maintain that I don’t mind it anymore simply because of reading books over those free right-wing papers that were, in my opinion, wholly responsible for London voting a galloping dick headed gitprong as mayor. A slow drip of invective and barely concealed propaganda seems to have infiltrated the moronic minds of a large enough quantity of the electorate –those who did vote for this blonde bastard may not have noticed that he seems to have disappeared, he popped up to ban booze on the tube and since then seems to have gone to ground.

Jools was waiting for me in sunny Sloane Square and we ambled to a pub off the Kings Road for a couple of pints and a catch-up. At 8 we walked to an upmarket curry house where we were joined by Paul and his friend and ordered a slew of fantastic food. Despite myself I stuck to beer, and I kept this in moderation, even managing to make it to the last tube home and thus avoiding the usual fees for a cab which slide convoy-like up and down the street tempting me with their orange Cyclops eye, the shiny black sluts.

It’s pissing down with rain, the light is gunmetal grey but I don’t mind, the weekend is expected to be pleasant enough and it’s finally within reach via a night with IC in Tooting. But first I’ve got to survive a day in this place, god help me.

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