˙uo ploɥ 'sdooɥʍ -- puɐ 'plɹoʍ ǝɥʇ uᴉ ʎʇᴉɔ ǝʇᴉɹoʌɐɟ ʎɯ 'uopuo˥ ɯoɹɟ noʎ oʇ ƃuᴉʇᴉɹʍ ɯ’I Is this better? Sweet. I was standing on the other side of the road. Everything is bass ackwards in England! They call bathrooms “water closets,” the sunniest day is a gray nightmare and all the pubs close at midnight. WTF?! That’s when I arrive at the pub! Just because The Queen goes to bed at midnight doesn’t we should! REVOLT! REVOLUTION!!!!!
Oooh. Brits don’t like it when you yell about revolutions. Wonder why? Anyhoo, I’m writing to you from London, my favorite city in the world, and I don’t just say that about every city. This year, the Duke of Running postponed the London Running Race to October 3, but we are NOT postponing our London running sunglasses. We’re releasing them on time, and slapping “Postcard Edition” on top to celebrate the city of London. Bloody brilliant, INNIT GUVNA?!?!?!
There’s so much to do in The Big Smoke. You can eat fish and chips; view medieval torture devices at the Tower of London and order them from The Dark Web to punish goodr employees; eat fish and chips; break into Westminster Abbey and spraypaint “Carl The Flamingo” in Poet’s Corner because these goodrTIMES posts are pure f***ing poetry; eat fish and chips; go to The National Gallery and complain about the EGREGIOUS LACK OF FLAMINGO PAINTINGS; eat fish and chips; ride the subway and DON’T mind the gap, just to stick it to The Man; eat fish and chips; go shopping at Harrods, which to me is like The Dollar Store, since I’m rich af; and also, the fish and chips are pretty good.
I’d write more, but I’ve got a craving for jellied eels, pork pie and black pudding. Just kidding. No one has ever had a craving for that trash. The only good food here is fish and chips. But it’s cool, London I still love all you, wankers and all. (If you miss reading my Poet’s Corner-worthy writing, check out my Boston, Los Angeles, and Tokyo posts.)