Ramblings from a small island

The flight was taken a day earlier as the “train” connection from airport the following day is not a train, but a bus. The second train was a train, but the carriages weren’t highlighted which meant a proper crush and scramble and sitting until the first stop before getting off the train and running along to the carriage where the seat was reserved.

Welcome to “Blighty” and the pedestrian tunnels in a particular place in the second largest city are a stinking filthy mess and while we might assume that the tax payers of the area deserve better, someone doesn’t seem to think so and with the local muslim Labour MP probably more concerned about the spectre of anti-Semitism which is supposedly raising its ugly head within the party, there won’t be anyone to look “after working for the minimum wage” Mrs Ali’s interests. Through the piss and vomit filled tunnels she will make her way tomorrow and another day in paradise.

The really big smoke was hit yesterday and the train was on time. Nothing to take note of. Apart, perhaps, from the ‘Evening Standard’ singing the praises of a big blond buffoon who also happens to be the Mayor of London. The news this morning informed me that across the Atlantic another either blond or bald buffoon has been cutting a dash is now the presidential candidate for the Republican Party. Still, no need to fly out west in order to come to the conclusion that Capitalism is madness and that it is in the process of reaching a particularly mad phase.

The homeless are here, there, and everywhere, and oblivion, or brainwashing, is the answer to misery for those who either don’t have access to unacceptable wealth, or to credit. The anger is kept in check through a constant subliminal manipulation and a mind numbing appeal to, what is probably, the majority’s ridiculous exophoric reference. BBC pish, the Queen is ninety and she does so much for everyone, and, just to keep you on your toes, the war on terror and, better safe than sorry, there we all were this morning evacuating the station only to learn that it was a drill.


About sanculottist

There are a lot of poor bastards out there being used and abused; it is just not cricket "old bean". Something tells me that ignorance is not bliss, but is, in fact, simply ignorance and in the global village we cannot look the other way.
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One Response to Ramblings from a small island

  1. Jordan says:

    Extremely well written. Well done!

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