I’ll pop out and get some groceries, I says to myself (because nobody else ever pays any attention to a word I say especially the stuff about gerbils). It will invigorate me and help me interact with my fellow humans I also says.
Fucking cunting humans. Shitting bastard outside world. That’s what I says to the whole goddamned planet now, only half an hour later.
Pedestrians that imagine cars can’t kill them even if they just step out in front of them. Drivers who imagine driving and texting won’t kill them or, more likely, other people. Surly wankers behind shop counters. Surly, ignorant, aggressive wankers in front of the counters. Sunday can go fuck itself with a razor blade.
Now I am home I have only one question to ask myself: that last tablet of diazepam left over to help me deal with being terrified of flying, would now be a good time to neck it even though I won’t be boarding a plane again until autumn? I think we all know the answer.