Brix And Torture

This is the first time we have ever done this, but we started a post yesrterday and sort of got sidetracked. We were probably just going to talk about the perverts that alight on our good, clean site.

Well, that and talk about Brixton, where we were offered more narcotics in a 100-metre walk than we have in the last decade. And far more than we have any interest in these days. The place has now morphed into Kentish Town, this skanky High Street with a few adventurous restaurants, a few scruffy pubs and some delightful terraced houses nearby. This is sick inside-out gentrification London-style, like dropping the Eastern end of Fulton Street into Carroll Gardens.

We grew up in Brixton, and still recognise it, which is peculiar, since we haven't set eyes on it properly since 1985. Can't say we'd like to live there, but right now we would be perfectly content if nuclear winter struck this metropolis, reducing the inhabitants to keening neanderthals. Yep, today has been that sweaty and that infested with a**holes.

A quick note about this Downing Street Memo, which is honestly only about the fifth suckiest thing to come out of London this year. We were going to get all excercised about Mr. Hitchen's latest outburst, and then this minion of Ariana does it for me.

Mr. Hitchens is very important, for sure. But the charge that is reinforced by the Downing Street is not that the president lied to Christopher, which is obviously very hard to do because he is very clever and well-connected. It is that he lied to the broad mass of the people that are wont to get some very peculiar notions into their heads. Like that Sadaam planned 9-11. And he did that masterfully. Unfortunately, while the daily papers probably believe that, they are unable to give it voice, because it would make them look like snotty elitists. Now that's karma.

Now, we drink.