the guy: are you hungry? are you really hungry? didn’t they feed you in the street? you poor thing. let me give you something then. come. come. do you like spleen? it’s hematinic. (this sentence wasn’t the exact translation but it’s the best i can come up with) like this look. let me give you some spleen. this much. is this enough? get it.
liverpool: like manchester, but less gay. you will definitely get mugged.
newcastle: probably quite good for canadians as exists in permafrost and has never left the 90s.
leeds: it’s a lot cheaper than london
bradford: leeds but awful
nottingham: gun death capital of the uk!
derby: intense rivalry with nottingham, literally no one else in the country or world gives any fucks about this.
hull: violently resist anyone who attempts to take you here
leicester: i’m not sure this is a real place
york: this is an illustration from the top of a christmas biscuit assortment
birmingham: NO.
brighton & hove: more gays. is only a pretend city. mild to moderate chance of mugging. contains some deeply annoying hippies. basically if san francisco was british.
portsmouth: there is literally nothing here.
southampton: exactly the same as portsmouth but smells of off milk
bristol: you have a 1 in 10 chance of ending up in a bbc recording. everyone sounds like a farmer or bob marley.
cardiff: you have a 1 in 5 chance of ending up in a bbc recording, and a 1 in 3 chance of being glassed.
plymouth: post apocalyptic wind tunnel full of drunk sailors pissing on depressed hookers. do not enter.
penzance: everyone here is from london now.
london: no one from london is actually from london and even breathing is expensive.
cambridge: windy and full of equal amounts of homeless drug addicts and public schoolboys. the junkies are nicer.
oxford: same number of cunts as cambridge but easier to escape from due to all-night bus to london
edinburgh: a goth turned into a city. basically london but slightly more scottish.
glasgow: it is impossible to tell whether people are angry or happy.
aberdeen: las vegas at the point when vegas starts crying uncontrollably
belfast: do not order “an irish car bomb” OR “a black and tan” here.
wolverhampton: really, really don’t.
norwich: count people’s fingers. mutations walk here.
coventry: like plymouth, bombed flat in ww2. like plymouth, failed to take the hint. like plymouth: do not alight here.
sheffield: poster-child for world war 3. good luck finding somebody with teeth.
not to be dramatic but the trauma of being a daughter is real and my relationship with my mother is and will always be one of the most devastating and complex relationships i will ever experience
“I think freckles, stretch marks, tattoos, bruises, birthmarks, and scars are probably the coolest thing. You started with a blank canvas and look at you now, all this evidence that you’ve lived”
on god, i’m waking up january first with a healthy dose of serotonin and a functioning attention span. like, this entire past decade has just been a fluke, you mark my words. i have planted the seed and i will see the fucking harvest!
