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Kevin has a friend called Mark whom he met during a creative writing course. Mark has a girlfriend called Lucy and they both come from Sheffield. Northeners are friendlier than southeners (Glaswegians are particularly friendly.)
Mark heard about a play from this up and coming Irish man, called "Shining City", which had cheap tickets on monday. Mark bought tickets and invited Kevin and I. We met them yesterday at one of the ugliest neighbourhoods in London. As soon as I stepped out of the Underground station, I was confronted with the ugliest crowd imaginable. The people were dressed in strange clothes and doused with putrid smells. All around us I saw the signs of a grim neighbourhood, unfit for nice people like us to wander around. I was terrified of the faces that stared at us from the bars, the utter contempt that these people generated in our souls.
Yup, we went to Sloane Square.
Oh! Hello there! Ever so nice of you to come!
I spilled some beer on Lucy's trousers and she told me she would send me the bill in her best mock-posh accent. We ordered our drinks with posh accents; we asked for directions to the loo with our posh accents; we took the piss out of people sitting around us in their big, trendy, Duran Duran haircuts - or their Sloane Ranger blonde bobs and aenemic pastel necks.
I couldn't keep my attention on the play. Something about a Dubliner priest who gets a woman pregnant, dumps her, goes cruising for gay sex and works as a therapist for a man who sees a ghost. To distract myself, I tickled Kevin. My throat was still killing me so I sucked on some mints.
And do you want to know why I'm the most popular non-goth boy in London? I've been invited again to a Big Brother eviction! Oh... wait... maybe this means I'm a sad bastard! (that's what somebody in my office called me last week when I told them I was going to a Big Brother eviction.)
Hmph! I'm just looking at it as the perfect way of meeting Melanie, the Atheist and Mistress Malaise.
Mark heard about a play from this up and coming Irish man, called "Shining City", which had cheap tickets on monday. Mark bought tickets and invited Kevin and I. We met them yesterday at one of the ugliest neighbourhoods in London. As soon as I stepped out of the Underground station, I was confronted with the ugliest crowd imaginable. The people were dressed in strange clothes and doused with putrid smells. All around us I saw the signs of a grim neighbourhood, unfit for nice people like us to wander around. I was terrified of the faces that stared at us from the bars, the utter contempt that these people generated in our souls.
Yup, we went to Sloane Square.
Oh! Hello there! Ever so nice of you to come!
I spilled some beer on Lucy's trousers and she told me she would send me the bill in her best mock-posh accent. We ordered our drinks with posh accents; we asked for directions to the loo with our posh accents; we took the piss out of people sitting around us in their big, trendy, Duran Duran haircuts - or their Sloane Ranger blonde bobs and aenemic pastel necks.
I couldn't keep my attention on the play. Something about a Dubliner priest who gets a woman pregnant, dumps her, goes cruising for gay sex and works as a therapist for a man who sees a ghost. To distract myself, I tickled Kevin. My throat was still killing me so I sucked on some mints.
And do you want to know why I'm the most popular non-goth boy in London? I've been invited again to a Big Brother eviction! Oh... wait... maybe this means I'm a sad bastard! (that's what somebody in my office called me last week when I told them I was going to a Big Brother eviction.)
Hmph! I'm just looking at it as the perfect way of meeting Melanie, the Atheist and Mistress Malaise.
