Jess, Victoria, and I began our carousel as has become normative for me, by consuming many litres of delicious alcoholic cider, found in my favorite, and most economic vessel, a two litre plastic jug. There are many forms and varietals of this verbose treat, but sliding quickly down the economic scale from such branded pillars as Strongbow (3 pounds), to White Oak (2 pounds), then Ace Lightnin' (1.50), we arrive at my stalwart companion, Dry Cider (75 pence), which has followed the naming traditions of all discount brands, proving that the best way to pass the savings on to you, the consumer, is by removing that ever-costly Call Products By Anything Other Than Their Name department.
And so, tottering my way to the usual foreign oblivion, we obtained a large and rather gorgeous effigy of Tony Blair, and began the search for a suitable bonfire. Unfortunately it appears the traditions of random and uncontrolled fires in the street have been unexpectedly curtailed, and the groups looking for any bonfire would consist of us, grumpy anarchopunks, and every police officer in London.
But the police turned out to be quite helpful, often advising any wandering passerby such wonderful advice as:
"Looking for a fire? Because I sure am positive that while you are most certainly in the wrong place right now, there is most definitely going to be one at (insert any random place that is not where you are right now). "
Which is nice, unless of course some officer has just told you that there will be a large fire in your flat late on in the evening. In which case madlibs just lets you down.
Right, anyways, we went to a friend's flat to burn ol' Lap Dog, and he went up quite beautifully. I have no photos of his face melting, as I am a dumbass, but standard behaviour prior to his flammation went like this...
There will be more photos later, I went to the British Museum of Natural History, yes that one.
Oh wait, nonono, not that one.
Anyways, see ya.
Nick.
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