I was just in California for a holiday and returned to London yesterday. Yesterday was also my two-year anniversary of living in London. I’m not into anniversaries and superstition, but one thing I said aloud recently to a friend in California was, “I booked a flight to return to London on my two-year anniversary with London; I hope something terrible happens.”
Two years ago when I moved to London, it was to a part of London called Vauxhall. I don’t live there anymore because fuck that place.
As it turns out, yesterday something terrible did happen: a helicopter crashed into a crane in Vauxhall, and then, as the Guardian puts it, “cartwheeled before bursting into flames.”
Strangely enough, that is precisely what happened to my life exactly two years ago to the day. Remarkable and uncanny.
One of my dearest friends picking me up at the airport on the day my life cartwheeled and burst into flames. He’s handsomer than this but I have no business tarnishing his face with my website.
This helicopter incident could have only happened because it happened in Vauxhall, because Vauxhall is a sinister bastion of malevolent, vile, contemptible evil and villainy.
If you’re from Vauxhall or live in Vauxhall or have anything good to say about Vauxhall and don’t like what this post has to say, fuck you for being associated with Vauxhall and stop looking at me like I’m not Portuguese enough.
Thanks to you I now know plenty about Vauxhall.
That was a long trip. I’m glad you’re safe. And bless you for comments like, “I hope something terrible happens.” I may borrow that.
We’re a couple rays of sunshine.
I’m American, and have no idea what you mean, but I like your attitude!
I second this reply, love the whole thing! Foudn you via @CheetohFace on Twitter!
Thank you!
That’s great, I’m quite a fan of the @CheetohFace.