C
Clean Bristow
Guest
I take it every social climber in London has one of the items next to their tandor?
London life, a true story of tragedy.
Tabitha and Malcolm are from a northern town, post industrial factory units line the sky with memories of a secure past but only the promises of an uncertain future.
Tabitha has a degree in sociology from a polyversity and Malcolm has an HND in photocopying and an original Ramones tee shirt he bought off Ebay. Tabby and Malcy as they are known live in a rented flat near a tube station in east London that costs £1800 a month and they share it with a hippy from Melton Mowbray who has a serious BO problem.
Every day Tabby and Macly take the tube to the city, well an office near a Wetherspoons in Islington, and dream that one day they might get a seat on the underground torture device where no one talks to each other.
Tabby sits at her desk and moves a file that contains the names and addresses of everyone she has ever ripped off for her services and an estate agent. Malcy does some photocopying as he struggles to keep his skinny jeans up. Malcy's beard is coming along nicely now and resembles a ran over cat left in a gutter for a fortnight.
Every weekend T &M pretend to go to museums to impress the morons they left behind when they moved to the big city. But the reality is very different, after a 70 hour and 40 hours of commute they rarely leave the flat as they are too tired and scared of being stabbed; however to day is Tabby's birthday so a party is in order. Malcy arranges it and ensures he invites all of their real friends (neither of them can make it) and the neighbours especially the ethnic ones that they never talk to.
The big night arrives and the place is jumping as the guests and the hosts (now numbering 4) talk excitedly about absolutely fuck all.
The author of this piece has now realised that this is going nowhere and clicks on post reply and prays that the abuse sure to follow is not too bad...
London life, a true story of tragedy.
Tabitha and Malcolm are from a northern town, post industrial factory units line the sky with memories of a secure past but only the promises of an uncertain future.
Tabitha has a degree in sociology from a polyversity and Malcolm has an HND in photocopying and an original Ramones tee shirt he bought off Ebay. Tabby and Malcy as they are known live in a rented flat near a tube station in east London that costs £1800 a month and they share it with a hippy from Melton Mowbray who has a serious BO problem.
Every day Tabby and Macly take the tube to the city, well an office near a Wetherspoons in Islington, and dream that one day they might get a seat on the underground torture device where no one talks to each other.
Tabby sits at her desk and moves a file that contains the names and addresses of everyone she has ever ripped off for her services and an estate agent. Malcy does some photocopying as he struggles to keep his skinny jeans up. Malcy's beard is coming along nicely now and resembles a ran over cat left in a gutter for a fortnight.
Every weekend T &M pretend to go to museums to impress the morons they left behind when they moved to the big city. But the reality is very different, after a 70 hour and 40 hours of commute they rarely leave the flat as they are too tired and scared of being stabbed; however to day is Tabby's birthday so a party is in order. Malcy arranges it and ensures he invites all of their real friends (neither of them can make it) and the neighbours especially the ethnic ones that they never talk to.
The big night arrives and the place is jumping as the guests and the hosts (now numbering 4) talk excitedly about absolutely fuck all.
The author of this piece has now realised that this is going nowhere and clicks on post reply and prays that the abuse sure to follow is not too bad...
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