April Fools Day ~ The Journey Begins

Friday, April 1st 2005, 6:14pm

I'm going to be quick because I’m on internet cafe time, and as I’m still in London which means I’m paying premium rate. Honestly, I recon I’ll be able to hire a prostitute in India for less than I’m paying for broadband in the UK. Although the scope for long distance communication may be slightly less, at least the scope for catching an awful disease and having all my money stolen will be greater.
I've spent the last two days with my brother in London. I've only really seen him in the evenings though as he’s been working, and I've been doing speed tourism, which is like regular tourism except it involves a lot more pushing, shoving and shin kicking whilst maneuvering through crowded museums. I've managed to see pretty much all the free things that I wanted to bar any actual genuine cockneys...is anyone from London actually living in London?

I made it to Abby Road where I wrote my name along with everyone else's on the wall outside, went to the Houses of Parliament where I again wrote my name on the wall outside (fewer people taking part this time though) and looked at the permanent protest guy. I’m not sure if he means to be protesting against hygiene, but he’s making a very convincing argument for a compulsory state subsidised showers program. Is it really necessary for him to be so filthy? Why must being a revolutionary be synonymous with a rejection of basic cleanliness? It seems that social change may smell of hash and armpits. Seriously, I've seen cleaner puddles.

Then, Leicester Square where I saw nothing except an NHS walk in centre where I had to pick up some antibiotic cream. This is because Impetigo has turned my face into the sort of scabby weepy-wound you’d usually only associate with a 16th Centenary bubonic sanatorium. Also, I think I was the only person in there who wasn’t a sex worker. Or at least that's the thought I used to entertain myself whilst I waited.
Then I went to Camden, which is really cool; cool shops, cool people, cool fake band merchandise and very brazen drug dealers selling what I suspect is likely to be some of the finest cooking herbs outside of my mother’s spice rack. Finally I hit the Tate Modern for some real genuine mind wank. All fairly standard really. I fly off later today…it doesn't really feel very real though. I suspect this could all be a hoax