...And John Kennedy Toole Killed Himself
This morning I had a terrible feeling that I was softening.
On the escalator at the notorious King’s Cross there was a bunch of guys chatting and, criminally, standing on the left. “Fucks” I thought. “Ignorant fucks”
This lady came up behind them with a look on her face like one of these guys just farted in her eye. “When they realise how irresponsible and stupid they are they feel cheap and ugly” I thought.
“Oh, excuse me, excuse me” said one of the extremely affable, former enemies, and stepped out of the way. The lady said nothing and continued up the escalator.
“Sorry” said the guy as she passed.
But then something happened. A poster for Marian Keyes’ new book, “The Other Side of the Story”.
It wasn’t the book. If some drooling Harry Potterite wants to read that chick lit twaddle, fire away. It was the poster.
GIRLS! it said.
CHOOSE SOMEONE WHO WILL NEVER LET YOU DOWN IN BED!
I thought about smashing the back of my head into the tiled wall of the station and howling like a torn sheep. Then thought the better of it. Inside my pockets, though, I made fists and I closed my eyes and concentrated on holding it together.
Does my rage require an explanation on this one? I don't think so.
Either way, there's no softening when cunts like the marketeers at Penguin still roam free.
Next time: Gilette and how much fun a girl can have shaving with a pink razor