I’m going to ‘that London’ to have lunch with my pal Natalie.
How very decadent.
On the train I read an article about escalating prices in London and how ‘normal’ people are being forced out. Hasn’t this always been the case with London? Doesn’t everyone leave when they have kids, unless they are loaded and can therefore afford to live in an area where they might not get shot?
Anyway, I love London. That is until I buy a Bounty at Waterloo station. It’s 92p. NINETY TWO PENCE, for a Bounty? Christ on a Bike. Perhaps this article is on to something…
I get the bus. The driver is actually really cheerful, which shocks me, because they were such miserable sods when I lived here. Especially that one on the 92 from Shepherd’s Bush who would never let my dog on.
Anyway, I digress:
We pass a restaurant that I ‘regretably’ spent a number of years banned from. My crime? Too many ‘Blonde Bombshells’ (a cocktail) combined with no food (I was working in fashion) and then that genius theme tune from ‘Beverley Hills Cop‘ came on. My friend Sarah and I were immediately up dancing on the pretentiously designed (possibly antique in actual fact) chairs. The manager and security were shouting ‘Get Down’ We were shouting back “We are, it’s a brilliant tune this’ Eventually we realised they didn’t actually mean ‘dance harder’. Whoops. As we got down I noticed that Miranda off ‘Sex and the City’ was at the next table glaring at us – well it might have been her, but tbh at this point I could see nine of everyone. ‘Sadly’ every time we tried to get into that restaurant again it ‘was full’. Whatever Trevor.
Anyway, here I am now in Chelsea. I’m early at the restaurant. And on my best behavior (LOL). I sit outside, because it’s a beautiful day. A posh English bloke and an American lady sit at the table next to me. She starts talking, then looks at me and says ‘well obviously I can’t talk now’. Er, whatever like I’m interested in your conversation, lady, but if you wait until Nats gets here and we have a couple of glasses of lady petrol and unleash the hounds, you will probably be interested in ours.
Anyway, in no way was I listening to their conversation, but what I can tell you is this;
- She cannot get a Visa back to the USA
- He owes her 10k
- He can probably pay her 5k of that back today
Like I say, though IN NO WAY WAS I LISTENING IN…
Nats and I have a fine lunch and then a homeless bloke appears and asks us for some change. The only change I have, (due to paying nearly a quid, Boris, for a Bounty), is 27p. I’m embarrassed, but Kevin, as he tells me his name is, is really grateful. I point to the couple next to us and mouth ‘why don’t you ask them?’ I’m tempted to mention the 5k, but I don’t know about that, because obvs I wasn’t listening. The couple next door decide I’m worth talking to at this point. Here’s what they say
American Lady ‘We always look after Kevin’
Posh bloke ‘When he’s clean’
I immediately think they mean ‘when he’s off drugs’
But then the bloke adds;
‘You see, I cannot abide Kevin when he’s dirty, but the great thing about Kevin is you can give him a tenner and tell him to go and have a bath and a shave and he will’
The patronising git.
Kevin, a very good-looking, young, homeless bloke stands there smiling, no doubt mortified. This is a guy who was massively grateful for 27p. Do people whose lives have taken such a bad turn that they’ve ended up living on the streets need to be patronized by toffs, who think nothing of dropping a hundred quid on a casual lunch?
Then the American lady turns to me and says really slowly, like I’m zipped up the back
‘ You should always look after Kevin’
Well, clearly they like their homeless aesthetically pleasing in Chelsea. The homeless must look so much prettier up against the cute, pastel 7 million quid town houses when they’ve had a shave, and, god forbid they get dirt up Piers’ Maserati, when they are begging next to it…
As we leave once again they shout ‘Always look after Kevin’
And I have to try, really, really hard not to turn back and give them the finger, because I can’t get banned from another restaurant, yet…