Ahhh London, our fair capital. A city filled with such delights as Buckingham Palace, Madame Tussauds, Hamleys and 72 McDonalds “restaurants”. Oh and quite a lot of total bastards.
I need to get things straight before you get the wrong idea. I really love London. For all the complaints I hear about it, the London Underground opens up the city like an adult’s playground. But to follow the playground analogy, there is a share of bullies bustling about the place, and these are the total bastards in question.
Just because you are in a hurry, wearing a suit and clearly more important than a meek visitor like myself or other decent commuters, doesn’t mean you can bulldoze everyone in your path on the way to your job where you no doubt fleece grannies out of their life savings. I too enjoy getting places quickly when it is necessary, but I never do so at the cost of being an utter cock.
You see at the start of my latest trip to London, I got body checked about five times in two minutes, and I swear to an unnamed deity that the next one to do it was going down. Probably from a clothesline type move, pepper spray or nun chucks. You see the problem with London when compared to other parts of the country is there are so many more people in London. You also need to understand my general philosophy regarding the human race.
People are idiots until proven otherwise.
Sod innocent ’til proven guilty, this is just a statistical thing, very much along the lines of all BMW driver are twunts until one in a hundred drivers displays an act of human decency. It’s a numbers game. You may think that this is a negative logic that works to the detriment of my happiness, but you’d be wrong. I give everyone a fair shot when I meet them and have met some lovely people, but I also stand by the numbers.
Should someone bump into me and apologise, proffer an “I’m sorry nod” or just give me all their money as penance because of the knife I pull on them, I am delighted with this (only 2 of the 3 happen, you decide). But for the next nine people who just give me a dirty look or mutter something under their breath, they just help me prove my point and should be thankful I don’t actually carry pepper spray and my nun chucks were confiscated after the great Leicestershire chip shop standoff.
When I sit down in a public area with my lunch, shouldn’t I be allowed to enjoy it without some hipster troll blowing smoke in my face because she didn’t want to blow it at her friends? I mean right in my face, direct, BOOM headshot. Shouldn’t I be allowed to insert that cigarette into them, or make some kind of remark that they look like a reject from a Disney High School movie? What they are doing is essentially invading my space with poison; I should at least be entitled to take their car.
I don’t dislike London and I don’t dislike Londoners. I dislike people. Well, the majority of them. And this isn’t me being closed-minded. This is because I follow the numbers, and if you need to know about people, just ask Roy. He sums it up perfectly in 6 seconds.
*Disclaimer – This is a exaggerated parody of myself. I am not a complete misanthrope. Just a bit of one.[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eVSlE28hOgI?rel=0&showinfo=0]
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