The Lavender Hill Mob
Let there be no doubt about it: Battersea is chock-full of thick rich cunts. Today the local butcher charged the woman in front of me £35.52 for a leg of lamb. She looked like every other bint around here - blonde, baby buggy, using her sunglasses as an alice band - and she could probably have afforded the whole of Wales, but £35.52? It must have been one of those endangered one-legged Tibetan Hopping Sheep. Either that or the butcher's been watching Harry Enfield.
I never thought I'd say this, but I'm getting nostalgic for the chavs of Tooting.
I never thought I'd say this, but I'm getting nostalgic for the chavs of Tooting.
posted by hungbunny at 11:34 pm
11 Comments:
Ah, good old Tooting - have you found yourself returning to its streets and looking wistfully through brimming eyes at groups of be-capped little fuckers trying to nick/destroy stuff? Ah yes, golden days - you won't find little Jake or Tillie getting up to any of that outside the organic bakery...
Fucking ridiculous, that's how much I spend on fags a week, imagine wasting it on a leg of meat.
I could get you a whole fucking lamb for that sort of money, there are loads of the noisey, cute little bastards in the field outside my place at the moment.
Tomla, I've been back to Tooting pretty much every day since I moved here. Worryingly a Caffé Nero has sprung up opposite the tube station - before you know it there'll be an All Bar One and a Fresh & Wild and then the place'll be fucked.
Boudica, at least they haven't banned eating hunks of dead flesh in public. Yet.
Cheers Bart, I'll take a dozen. Will you be using your longbow to dispatch them?
HB, did Battersea's rich cunts surplus not kind of occur to you before you moved there?
Yes of course, but it's surprising how many cunts one will tolerate in exchange for free rent.
Just got me some laugh-action. Despite traces of quease, I laughed my tits off at Laurel & Hardy do Brokeback Mountain.
Friend of mine used to go sheep rustling with a baseball bat and an Escort van for beer-money on a friday night. There is a funny story involving a pig.
Ah, thick rich cunts. Refreshing.
I try not to venture south of the river unless my usual dealer is off sick so I don't really know where all these places are. Does Battersea have anything to do with 'fanny batter', which I understand South London prostitutes have by the bucketload?
Indeed. SW11 used to be so densely populated with whores that the high street was literally a "sea" of "batter". These days you have to go to Streatham to find that.
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