And thank you for telling me that the manner in which the narrator consistently fails to act morally is really compelling. Fuck you.

The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.

December 2025

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.