Last Orders
Yesterday or, more accurately, from 12.00 this morning, London's new mayor, Boris Johnson, implemented a drinking ban on all London transport.
Londoners mourned by getting thoroughly pissed up and rowdy, causing untold disruption and damage, until 12.ooam, June 1, GMT.
What bothers me about this is not the ban (which, frankly, isn't that much of a big deal), or the vandalism and arrests (again, there's little surprise there), but rather the fact that Londoner's gathered to mourn the passing of their right to get pissed and cause distress and misery to other commuters. It seems like an odd waste of energy better spent doing something useful.
The normal modus operandi of any Londoner, be they natural or naturalised, is apathy. Normally, if a baboon ran on to the platform at any underground station and started shitting and wanking and causing a general ruckus, 99.9% of Londoners would ignore the incident with that heads down, nose in a book or newspaper, attitude of oblivious ignorance, consumed by apathy and their own affairs. However, God forbid somebody should mess with a Londoner's right to get pissed and it's a case of: "How dare you? Fuck you! How dare you mess with my right to be a cunt."
Yes, what a protest it was, folks: A procession of morons going nowhere fast on the Circle line screaming, "Not in my name," to the notion of a ban that might actually make life on the tube and buses a bit better in the long run. Yes, that really makes me proud to be a Londoner. God forbid we should stand up against the rising cost of living or the fact that the police are slowly but surely storing our collective DNA on a big fucking database, or that we're still in Iraq and Afghanistan with no sign of things getting better, or that a bunch of city boys ripped us all off and now normal working stiffs can't get credit or mortgages any more. No, instead, let's all go in a fucking circle and get pissed, because that's what our forefather's would want. Now that's what I call protesting.
Useless, apathetic motherfuckers.
If you're going to protest something, how about protesting the increasing, and distressing, right of the police to break up any gathering or protest, thus negating our freedom of speech, by using the laws designed to protect us all from terrorism. Or how about protesting all the other far more insidious ways our governments chip away at our rights and freedoms.
No? Oh, well, have it your own way, here's a big bottle of Tesco's 'Value' Vodka for you to suck down. Whilst you're at it, here's a big fat fucking Crack pipe for you to smoke, you fucking dumbbells. And whilst you're abusing your system here's all the reality television you can handle.
Now, put your nose back in your newspaper, London, and go to sleep!
Londoners mourned by getting thoroughly pissed up and rowdy, causing untold disruption and damage, until 12.ooam, June 1, GMT.
What bothers me about this is not the ban (which, frankly, isn't that much of a big deal), or the vandalism and arrests (again, there's little surprise there), but rather the fact that Londoner's gathered to mourn the passing of their right to get pissed and cause distress and misery to other commuters. It seems like an odd waste of energy better spent doing something useful.
The normal modus operandi of any Londoner, be they natural or naturalised, is apathy. Normally, if a baboon ran on to the platform at any underground station and started shitting and wanking and causing a general ruckus, 99.9% of Londoners would ignore the incident with that heads down, nose in a book or newspaper, attitude of oblivious ignorance, consumed by apathy and their own affairs. However, God forbid somebody should mess with a Londoner's right to get pissed and it's a case of: "How dare you? Fuck you! How dare you mess with my right to be a cunt."
Yes, what a protest it was, folks: A procession of morons going nowhere fast on the Circle line screaming, "Not in my name," to the notion of a ban that might actually make life on the tube and buses a bit better in the long run. Yes, that really makes me proud to be a Londoner. God forbid we should stand up against the rising cost of living or the fact that the police are slowly but surely storing our collective DNA on a big fucking database, or that we're still in Iraq and Afghanistan with no sign of things getting better, or that a bunch of city boys ripped us all off and now normal working stiffs can't get credit or mortgages any more. No, instead, let's all go in a fucking circle and get pissed, because that's what our forefather's would want. Now that's what I call protesting.
Useless, apathetic motherfuckers.
If you're going to protest something, how about protesting the increasing, and distressing, right of the police to break up any gathering or protest, thus negating our freedom of speech, by using the laws designed to protect us all from terrorism. Or how about protesting all the other far more insidious ways our governments chip away at our rights and freedoms.
No? Oh, well, have it your own way, here's a big bottle of Tesco's 'Value' Vodka for you to suck down. Whilst you're at it, here's a big fat fucking Crack pipe for you to smoke, you fucking dumbbells. And whilst you're abusing your system here's all the reality television you can handle.
Now, put your nose back in your newspaper, London, and go to sleep!
posted by The Nothing Man at 1.6.08
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