Friday, 11th October 2013
by Joshua Gaskell
The prevailing wind in London blows eastwards, which is why wealthy Londoners have historically lived in the west. Of late, however, the wind seems to have picked up, and now has the strength to carry with it not only the Great Stink, but the heirs of those West Enders once keen to avoid it.
A case in point: in the East End today I see an ironic hairdresser’s called Tory Cuts. Who is that joke for, and who is it on?
Talking of the Scum, today the curtain falls on the Trve Tragedie:
R. I. P.
The Royal Mail
‘Was Royal Mail sold too cheaply?’ asks the BBC News website. The verdict seems to be that a cash-cow has been exchanged for a very ordinary hill of half-baked beans: Vince and the Beanstalk, sans beanstalk.
To every complacent bastard in this scattered kingdom – from 8s E to W – get back to me in twenty years and let’s see how the Royal Mail is doing; how much it’s trusted, and what it’s place is in the national life. And to the politicians who’ve pushed this through and the fat-cats cashing in, from the bottom of my heart, fuck you.