While we're away in Spain I always do my best to forget what a grim and ghastly place I'm forced to inhabit while trying to develop my political career. Oh, if only Linda and I could afford to move out and buy a place somewhere decent!
It hits you the moment you get back. Late last night, struggling on the Stansted Express and then getting ripped off by an Indian mini-cab driver charging us 25 quid for the run from Liverpool Street to Stoke Newington ("Are you getting in, mate, or arguing? There's plenty more customers waiting if you wanna have an argument with me, innit?"), the true ghastliness was really driven home. I really must work harder to find a safe seat in the shires at the next election (if there is such a thing) and leave this place to Diane Portillo!
 |  |
| Imagine giving up this... | ...to return to this |
As you probably guessed, I had a bit of a ding-dong with Rafael at the internet café in Cómpeta over the extortionate fees he charges to British visitors such as myself. As a result I am now banned from the café and as it is impossible for a visitor to get Telefónica to connect an apartment to ADSL it looks like I'm stuffed from now on when it comes to keeping in touch while we're away.
Mind you, looking at some of the crap that my spoofster has posted during the past fortnight, it's probably no bad thing. I must get on with the unpacking now, but as soon as I'm sorted and settled I'll do some catching up on the blog.
I'm Luke Akehurst..... aka. "Luke The Nuke".
2 comments:
Shoulda got a black cab!!
I can't be seen in black cabs. Young people think I'm a Tory and throw eggs at me. On the other hand you won't find me dead inside a plebian-bendy-wagon. So it's unmarked cabs I'm afraid.
Post a Comment