The new Guardian Weekend is shit. The glossy paper reflects the light. I saw Julie Burchill on the television last night. She winced as she looked at me directly then spat her high-pitched comments on Wham! through the unforgiving and familiar 16-year-old tube. Perhaps I will get a little smashy on Tuesday. If I can find the London Tonight crew filming, ain't nobody going home.
It makes you wonder - what's it like, being tear gassed?
Crazy low-fi kung-fu.
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