I got a distinctly Shane Meadows vibe as I walked home today. Coming into the Avenue estate I passed by a rotund boy in a shell-suit who sheepishly pulled a chocolate-ship cookie from his pocket and aimed it mouthwards. Just then I heard a shout from the drive-way to my left. A huge, thick-necked man in a tracksuit shoved violently against another balding man.
“What the FAHK did you just say to me?!”
Two large ladies ran into the scene to break it up with much flailing and wobbling. I turned my eyes from the scene, not wishing to draw attention. The heavens opened in an act of cliched pathetic fallacy and the estate was tinted with a Kitchen Sink grey. The young boy then hobbled at top speed past me, short of breath and wimpered a little as he ran. His cookie dropped to the ground in front of me as he turn desperately into the next house, shattering into a pile of crumbs. Seriously symbolic and that. Then two decidedly larger ladies and another tracksuited roundy kid ran breathlessly pass me toward the action. Then another two sizeable maidens. Then an old, leather-skinned man in a denim suits, handlebar moustache and a ponytail. I had a serious case of FOMO, lads.
And speaking of Shane Meadows I’ve been inhaling the follow-up series This is England ’86/88 ON 4OD and quite loving it. I do, however have a few niggles and quibbles with it. Like how they just forgot Banjo and Meggs were violent racists. Full review later on but for now I’ll leave you with this startling revelation:
They’re only bloody brother and sister!
Enough, off to bed, big day ahead. Many gorgeous people to see. The first person to guess where I’m going gets a prize! Here’s a clue: