bro i read nothing in my life

Pimlico Rats


I imagine that some lab-grown 29-year-old from Woking with a mind honed to identify individuals who fit the profile of Real Londoner (as conceived of by 50 opinion-polled racist builders and their wives in the Midlands) picks a stubborn local who can still somehow afford to live here and passes him along to some creative studio.

He was cast as the guy who gets picked up and thrown out of the poker game to set the scene before the main characters arrive. Out of Real London and into real London, a discarded prop, at this party, chatting to me.

hello reader,

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.


Thank you, Jack

part of an old note. It will get lighter.

Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50

        13       |
                |
                |
            H   |
                |
                |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
                |



in a post. I want to be remembered
"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."

which magnetises chains of pins

your feed looks like my tumblr

Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03

plato

I Write Goodbye Letter

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

The Hatton geezer (fuck off) reminds me of this old failed actor who I'd met at a party a few years ago, another man out of time and out of place. This actor had scored a minor role in Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels and never really let go of it, had gone on to build his whole identity around it. I can't really blame him.

The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

feel you

yeah