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Irretrievable Innocence

Updated: Jul 2, 2020

I decided to go to London last week to do some gigs, partly to make up for how I’d spent the previous week wallowing in self-pity and thinking about how empty and pointless my life is at the moment, and partly because I needed something to keep myself busy until the new FIFA comes out. I would play last years FIFA, but last year was quite a bad year for me and seeing a gormless yet content Harry Kane running up and down a field in pre-Brexit Britain reminds me of an innocence I can no longer retrieve.

Whenever I go to London I’m always struck by the way people walk about like they have some sort of purpose and are important. This is mainly because I’m used to being around the type of people whose only real purpose in life is to make sure they always have enough alcohol in supply to be able to escape the fact that no one will ever really care about them.

Not everyone I encountered in London had this inflated sense of self-importance though, in fact when I was in McDonald’s I noticed that the shop had two security guards who looked a bit ashamed to be there. We don’t have burger-patrolmen where I’m from, so I found their presence a bit odd and unnecessary. I guess they looked embarrassed as they’d probably both dreamt their entire lives about becoming real police officers, whereas in actual fact they’ve ended up like real life versions of Paul Blart Mall Cop; but instead of an entire mall being their jurisdiction, they’ve only been trusted to guard one fast food shop between the two of them. While I was eating my burger, they seemed to be becoming more intense and were pacing around; it was as if they were willing some sort of McChicken-related fracas to occur just to break the monotony of their uneventful lives. I felt a bit sorry for them having nothing to do, so I left my wallet at the table in clear sight of them when I went up to get some more ketchup. I’m hoping those 20 seconds of keeping an eye on my wallet and preparing themselves to thwart any potential thieves made them feel a little bit less worthless for a while.

Since I got back from London, I’ve been reading a lot about the Labour leadership contest as I have a visceral feeling that Owen Smith is a bit of a prick and I wanted to find evidence that backs it up. I read that he advocates a second EU referendum as when the first vote happened people didn’t realise that leaving the EU would be so slow and boring. I think it’s probably unlikely that a second referendum would actually change the result though; it’s like asking a girl out who’s already rejected you. She’s already decided she’s better off without you: no matter how many signatures you’ve collected from your mates at uni verifying your importance; and no matter how much you accuse her of being a racist, she’s not gonna change her mind. Your best bet is to move on, dust yourself down, and hope that in a few years you’re still attractive enough to have access to the single market.

Most things I read about at the moment seem quite negative and, when I think about the future, it just seems to me like everything’s gonna be bleak. I think if I wasn’t alone it might be alright. I’m not sure it would make me happy, because I think happiness is a bit of a myth like compassionate conservatism or the banker from Deal or No Deal, but I think it might make the perpetual sadness I live in a bit more bearable. I’m quite fragile though and need to be looked after; I’ve basically realised that I’m looking for my mum in a potential girlfriend – but it’s hard to find a girl my age with high blood pressure and the demeanour of someone who’s accepted that all they have left to look forward to now is death.

Anyway, that’s about it.

Cya x


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