The only real Londoner remaining is old, bitter, kept around for entertainment, defined by tropes from 30+ years ago. They play gangsters in films, or they work in a pie and mash shop, or they go on Business Insider's YouTube channel to tell you about their crimes. And they somehow still find the time to spend all day hanging about cafes and pubs for you to bump into, to remind you of Real London.

i love it here

wait what is that

i sat down to eat my peasant dinner but i thought it was a song you sent so i didn’t watch it then

send your tumblr

i understand

Slug

nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class

is everyoneback on tumblr now

what do you mean

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It Will Get Lighter

He went in there with a camera to film it before he moved out of the building. He didn't think anyone would believe the story if he didn't have proof.

IWGD

...

and the fake qualifier

She closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside.

Their voices are saying they haven't and shouldn't fuck but want to so bad, or have fucked and can't again but want to so bad, or something like that. Would this be easier if they were birds? Incel kind of question... I'm not following the conversation, but I'm still listening. He's talking in this slightly begging way. It's a way of talking that asks for pity, like he's already tried appealing to every other one of her sensibilities. Incel kind of observation... Maybe he just talks like that, in some upspeak derivative. Haha unless?

I am below everything.

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...

I'm sat out the front of a cafe in Hatton Garden. I've just eaten a brie and bacon panini, and I'm rolling a cigarette. Feeling very London. An old man comes up to me and asks for a roll-up. I oblige.

and the fake qualifier

currently

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Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

i am quite confused, not quite getting the idea of it