Sunday, May 08, 2005
Sunday Papers
Going to the shops can be a bit of a pain on a Sunday, everybody else goes. Masses of newspapers under their arms, only to be taken home and divested of the business, money, property, crap, crap, crap, crap, supplements. The task is made worse by the paper being mummified in polythene cases. Designed to stop people nicking the free CD or DVD. What we have, however, is the vast contribution that the press makes to the mounting yet to be realised ecological nightmare. It’s making me very sick.
The headlines in the press say that the Blair’s mp are not very happy with him. It seems that, according to the press, the knives are out. This is what happened with Thatcher.
I was in Sainsbury’s, the queue (“line” if you are Amerikana-English minded) was long with people carrying these vast encyclopaedia sized daily newspapers, thought “fuck it”, I’m going to the newsagent. Newsagent was open. Joined the queue (line). There was this woman with a Polish accent at the head of the queue. Quibbling over the paper delivery “should be this price, not the price you say”. Indian newsagent says that Polish woman had ordered an extra magazine. She gives in after much quibbling. Then she has a large envelope. Asks newsagent “do you sell stamps”, he does; she wants sixty two p’s worth of stamps. Newsagent says that he only sells in 10p units, she will have to go to the Post Office if she wants stamps in lower denominations. More quibbles. At the end of this bullshit, she asks whether she can pay for all these goods with a cheque!.
Tube, further into London, more Eastern Europeans board the train. Fucking hell, the place is flooding out with these ponses. The French are voting “Non” against the European constitution. Doubt if this country will do so; Eastern Europe is a source of cheap skilled labour.
Returned to bedsit. The Fuck Brothers have left their room, but the cunt still seems to be around. His crockery is still around and the heavy fat in which he cooks still permeates the atmosphere. My guess is that he is staying in Grolly God’s room. Fucking bastard.
The headlines in the press say that the Blair’s mp are not very happy with him. It seems that, according to the press, the knives are out. This is what happened with Thatcher.
I was in Sainsbury’s, the queue (“line” if you are Amerikana-English minded) was long with people carrying these vast encyclopaedia sized daily newspapers, thought “fuck it”, I’m going to the newsagent. Newsagent was open. Joined the queue (line). There was this woman with a Polish accent at the head of the queue. Quibbling over the paper delivery “should be this price, not the price you say”. Indian newsagent says that Polish woman had ordered an extra magazine. She gives in after much quibbling. Then she has a large envelope. Asks newsagent “do you sell stamps”, he does; she wants sixty two p’s worth of stamps. Newsagent says that he only sells in 10p units, she will have to go to the Post Office if she wants stamps in lower denominations. More quibbles. At the end of this bullshit, she asks whether she can pay for all these goods with a cheque!.
Tube, further into London, more Eastern Europeans board the train. Fucking hell, the place is flooding out with these ponses. The French are voting “Non” against the European constitution. Doubt if this country will do so; Eastern Europe is a source of cheap skilled labour.
Returned to bedsit. The Fuck Brothers have left their room, but the cunt still seems to be around. His crockery is still around and the heavy fat in which he cooks still permeates the atmosphere. My guess is that he is staying in Grolly God’s room. Fucking bastard.
