6 Things In London That I Either Want To Die Or To Stop Dying On Me.
I’m really running out of ideas on what to write about on this blog. I’m going through the motions you cunts.
Here are 6 things in London that I encounter a lot in that I either want to die or to stop fucking dying.
- The urban foxes – My favourite sight in London is the urban foxes but I see so many of them lying dead when I’m out running in the morning that it makes me really sad. Gone in a flash of red and a bang into the endless sky and now forever balls deep in a celestial tin of Whiskas. Fairwell Rusty, we hardly fucking knew you.
- The optimistic beggars – I always run in cheap gear and tend to look like a bit of a dodgy tramp when I’m out running. That does not stop common street beggars coming up to me and asking me for money. They haven’t honed their act to a target audience which is why their hit rate is so shit. I don’t have anything to give them other than my rusty old key to the house here.
- The suicidal Deliveroos – Have you ever met a Deliveroo who didn’t look like he or she was on some kind of kamikaze mission? Every time I’m out running near the fuckers they seem to be pulling in at weird angles to try to end it all. It’s dangerous as fuck for me. The last thing I want is to have my balls scalded by piping hot chicken katsu from Wagamama.
It’s piping hot chicken katsu from Wasabi or nothing.
- The beer garden shanter banter merchants – We’re moving into the summer now so everyone is spending a shit load of time in the beer garden getting fucked up on IPA and levelling up their Untappd accounts as if it actually meant something. I’m tired of the mouthy ones that shout “Awight Forrest son, fuckin hurry up then wot wot.” when I run past them. I can’t shout anything back as most of them are violent recidivists and/or Chelsea fans.
- The crackheads – I saw this lady out at Angel when I was running a few weeks ago and she was chewing her face off. Must have been off her tits on disco biccies and/or crack. Anyway she was staggering and walked head on into this girl who was in business wear and smoking a cigarette outside a Boots pharmacy. The crackhead lady seemed oblivious to what had just happened and kept on murmuring to herself incoherently. I’m terrified of these people as all it takes is for one of them to have a broken bottle in their hand for me to have a pretty bad run.
- The mobile phone user who does not need to use their eyes to walk forward – These fuckers operate by sonar or something. I passed one my run home tonight and he was walking forward for at least a minute without looking up and was zigzagging across the pavement. It’s impossible to run past these fuckers as even they don’t know where they are going next. Most of them are impeccably dressed too so if I knock into his Skinny Latte I’ll be up in court for assault. These people are way worse than crackheads as addiction is a disease but being a complete cunt is a choice. I should know. I am one.