Sunday, 7 January 2007

Midnight bus to Tottenham

Smells. Someone is wearing cheap aftershave. Brut. Like teenage boys on the pull. Smells of cardboard warmed by pizza that is slowly going cold. Smells of the pub. Beery breath all round. Eau de ashtray on everyone's jackets. Smells of chips from Dixy Fried Chicken shop.

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