Unlimited great, limited food not!! / 29 September 2014
Where can I get some decent food in this goddam town? In between the fantastic festival I just needed a real dirty fry up to keep me going and guess what? Been around the world and I, I , I can't find a fry up... Runaround Brew.... where are you? Had to settle for MACDONALDS
ARGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!! Get this city back to reality please and give us back the cosy Italian cafes and Full English brekkies! Then I find that: London Hot el is charging £39 for the humble fry up!!! Let's reclaim our food!
At least my anger churned out quite a long poem and all the Embankment trekking inspired The Waistband in me!
For Real City
Ravenous for a dirty breakfast
Of bacon and eggs and all things fat
I traipsed Charing Cross
And borders of Covent Garden
To satisfy my stomach’s wretch
Horrific and wrong
Tempo Temper Tantrum
The large male Italian
Who served the best breakfast
My mate from Amsterdam vver had
Had turned into a cappuchino
Muffin selling slim line youth
Lounging across
The counter looking
At this alien
Asking for a fry up
‘haz changed’ he seemed
Perturbed at being
Disturbed whilst fiddling
With his mobile phone
Oh No I cried
Another nail in the coffin
Of a London that caters
For my craving heart
Who needs to eat
Albeit on occasion
Something other
Than an airy bun
Fucked up City
Ray Davies said
Unreal City
T.S. had it sussed
We’re losing culture
We’re losing character
To three flouncy boys
Entering Thai Pot
Looking like a greasy spoon
Would ne’er be on their map
I have seen Stratford
It’s flattened it’s lost
Like a wasteland crying
For years of growth
Torn from the backs
Blood sweat and toil
Of dockers and labourers
Now just building blocks
Horizon crying
For some kind of realism
Not just Westfield
And fancied up locks
A burger’s the alternative
Full to bursting on the Strand
Coke milk shake chilli
Relish slurping
Scoffing meat
Unreal, cheese
Unreal, these are now
This is now
I look for familiar
Earlier I saw a face I knew
Curly mop and little eyes
Crossing the bridge
On Embankment
Dark, daunted
By disappointment
Older now
I nearly shouted
‘I know you don’t I?
Weren’t you with me
On the stage in Mile End?’
Traitorous bitch! We acted together
Thought she was a friend!
Turning into Bakerloo Northbound
End of the corridor walk annoys every time
When Trafalgar Square’s entry
Is shut I imagine
That I’ll see the ghost
Of my lovely Gabby
A friendly face
In a sea of scowls
Rushing opposite way to me
‘Hi Vendeee’
Bespectacled, smiling
Lit me up, we chatted a while
But her ghost never walks
Charing Cross Station
I am left in quandaries’
Isolation
Meine Leibchen
My dear dead Gabby
Reekious in Pace
With long gone bacon
Greasy fry ups
Sweet smells dying