Backwards moving.

In North Norfolk, the home of Alan Partridge and the “Well we’ve got a 24 hour taxi rank and a snooker hall” defence by the mayor of Fakenham in answer to the question “Is Fakenham the most boring town in Britain?” I’m not going to lie, in all the years i’ve been coming, the town seems to be in some sort of stasis of being on the cusp of something awful rather than anything hopeful. More houses are thrown up and monster sized plastic pubs built to create a gel in the community, but succeeds in only creating karaoke fights, and bouncy castle romance. This seems to be the tragedy of my country right now. The Tories have ripped the heart out of Britain, and it’s morphed into this intolerant xenophobic beast of a minor player who shouts in to the fog a lot. Unable to stand up with the rest of Europe to make a difference we’ed rather be on the outside looking in, like Tiny Tim.

We visited Norwich yesterday, a town in the Easter holidays with armies of doppelgänger girls in ripped jeans, crop tops and far too much make up who do battle with squads of track-suited boys. Eyeing each other for snogs and to see who is wearing the most comfortable lounge wear. In shops where jackets cost upwards of £800 I wonder how the fresh faced can afford such guff, possibly not spunking it all on drugs, alcohol and fun times no doubt. So if you asked me if I regretted anything, i’d look at some of the awful patterned jackets and immediately reply in the negative. 

Theres so many narrow lanes and covered arcades in the city, beset by scores of empty units, closed down shops and “To Let” signs. This country is fucked believe me, valuing high ticket price goods at the expense of the smaller start ups wanting to give it a try, we’re consumed by greed and the need to be seen to be in designer gear, I don’t know where it will end, the bubble will burst and we’ll all be left with low grade cotton drenched with the sweat of children as we hurtle rapidly backwards into simpler times. Brexit, The Tories, The constant Lying, The patronising breakfast TV interviews where they defend a colleague accused of raping a 15 years old boy, or the chancellor with a green card, as he’d rather keep his options open if Britain really goes tits up. These people have choices, through access to obscene amounts of money, well I hope they all go blind and bump into things inappropriately.

One comment

  1. I grew up in Norwich and still live close. I’s awful how it’s fallen apart in recent times. It used to be such a wonderful place to be, now its a crumbling ghost town for the most part.

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