Tuesday, January 25, 2005


"Smile, it might never happen" some giggling orange ape says to me as I walk out of the Porter House in Covent Garden.

Aha! I think, wagging an imaginary finger in his retarded paralysed droop-face. My own lighting up for the briefest of moments through the thick and electric cloud of my hatred. Shows what you know, you fucking impacted colon.

It’s happening all the time.