S took me to task the other day for writing here that she described
No wonder anyone with a spark fucks off out of it asap."
"Anyway, with luck I'll be getting a train out of here v. early tomrrow morning."
"The place has a sense of, let's not say faded glory, rather decaying dogshit; it's riddled with concrete cancer architecture, dissatified political graffitto and a level of drunkeness that I find depressing (looking into one of the wall to wall bars* today I saw someone geniunely smashing their head on the table while the other solitary drinkers continued to gaze morosely at their pints poured from cheap cans**
*read flyblown shithole playing dire 80's eastern european electronica while pasty faced acned men & boys drink themselves to death in their own personal hell bubble - I least when I'm hellbound I invite everyone else to come along for the ride/spectacle.
**Yup, go in the wrong sort of bar and ask for a beer and you're given a lukewarm can and a glass - pour it yourself - even the hostesses on the hellsville express can't be bothered."
I hope that puts the record straight.