So I just saw a guy wheeling a shopping trolley with an office chair in it, all the way down my street. And I’m thinking: why’s he need the trolley? The chair has wheels. Just push the chair.
I’m telling you, shopping trolleys are the new mode of inner city transport. The only thing I’d really need a car for here is grocery shopping. And furniture shopping, I guess. Furniture shopping would be nice. And for visiting friends who live where there are no trains (though what’s with that? Places that have no train stations are practically begging you not to visit, eh? Stay away, stay away, we are Secretive and Spooky.)
And while we’re on the topic of inner city life, what’s with this whole suburban thing that’s been hitting my neighbourhood lately? There’s even someone in my street with a baby. A baby! This is no place for a baby. What, with the level of smog we have here, that child is destined to have no lungs. It shall adapt to sucking up tar-black air and live as a kind of hybrid creature, half human, half coal-eating beast.
And as to the people who SOUND THEIR CAR HORNS to let their friends know they’ve arrived — dudes, our houses are practically hanging over the top of you. We can look down through your sun roof & see your bald spot, you fucker. Does it OCCUR to you how loud your fucking horn is from our loungerooms? Get off your arse & go use a doorbell. Jesus fuck.
Trust me. It’s easy. You won’t even need an opposable thumb. Which, in your case, is a stroke of luck, really, isn’t it.