The City of London is a dark place

The City of London is a dark place. Dark cobblestone alleys underneath dark towers of glass. Long dark coats of wool against dark leather and cheap brass. The dark wail of sirens and the pointed noses of dark self importance, dirty shoes on chipped marble. The dark smells a foul blend of urine and insatiable greed, sandwich fillings and decaying flesh. The air hangs heavy with the filth that settles on every surface, discarded cigarettes, the detritus of fast food and wasted human lives.

It fucking, stinks.

This morning some cleaners demonstrated for a fair wage outside UBS, an investment bank. Small angry foreigners bounced their loud hailers from one steel and glass sided street to another. An overweight man in a long dark coat talks to bored policemen outside revolving doors. He points and laughs, they chew and fold their arms. This is the beast of inequality in all its glory, an overweight vortex swarming with the Starbucked piggy eyed minions of gluttony. Immorality counterbalanced by a shrug of the shoulders and a vague nod at, ‘Corporate Social Responsibility’.

This is one of the worst places I’ve ever set foot, let alone worked. Tomorrow I’ll be telling you about one of the best.

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