I miss London

I have been in Norfolk for 2 weeks and from what I can make out there are three real humans here me, my love and Steven Fry. All the rest are mutants who remain so inbred that I can see small webs between every finger on their padded claws.

The truth is they are lovely simple honest folk who embrace their heritage and understand their roots, they do not try and tear down their Tudor buildings but continue to use them. They are healthier and prettier than ‘London people’, more primitive, maybe it’s the way they don’t force themselves maybe it’s the way they don’t care. They are true naturals. They have ironed out their neurosis and have been made sane again.

But…I don’t want that. I want to scream ‘I am the fucking Batgirl’ on top of my lungs to a gang of rapists whilst walking though Peckham in the dead of night.

I never wanted my lipstick on I always wanted my hair to be knocked out of place. All I ever wanted was to make art and have someone I admire near me physically and mentally. So now I have all that all I want back is London.