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About London

So, I’m cruisin’ the streets—motherfucker, it’s late, cold as hell. Neon lights flickerin’, girls standin’ on corners like ghosts. Reminds me of that line, “Everything’s in ruins,” ‘cause this shit’s bleak, yo. You gotta know the code—eye contact, quick nod, no fuckin’ around. I once saw this chick, right? Tiny, tough as nails, but her eyes? Dead. Like she’d hauled that cart herself for years. Made me fuckin’ mad—world’s a bastard for lettin’ that happen.

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So, I settled for a sausage sarnie instead. Not the same, but whatever. I sat by the window, watching the world go by. People were rushing to work, kids were running late for school. Classic Newton Aycliffe morning, right? Then, outta nowhere, this kid on a bike zooms past and nearly knocks over an old lady. I’m talking full-on near-miss! I was like, “Oi, mate! Watch where you’re going!” But he just laughed and pedaled off. Kids these days, I swear.

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