Sutton
04 August 2005
If the Daily Mail were a town, it would be Sutton. The entire place reeks of intolerance, sexual repression and aspirational interior decoration.
A festering carbuncle formed on the extremity of the Victoria Line, Sutton today maintains a large population of unsuccessful middle management commuters, who can be seen of a weekend scurrying around town frantically purchasing home electronics and DIY equipment, desperately trying to anaesthetize the gaping hole in their miserable existences with rabid consumption.
Meanwhile, the local sink estates, virtually unchanged since the slum clearances of the early fifties, provide an endless supply of interchangeable bile-filled-baseball-hatted-white-reeboked-hoop-earinged cunts who would be happy to do you harm if you dare venture into the town centre and the sorry selection of themed sports bars and nightclubs on offer there.
Russell Hicks
"I do nothing and then I do something. But it's taken years of investigating idleness in all its forms to be able to achieve this. My discipline is borne out of concerted study of idleness."