Monday, February 13, 2006

Punk is dead, dead, DEAD, I tell you!

At the recommendation of, oh, almost everyone, I took a jalopy ride out on the Tube to Camden Town on Saturday, famous for assorted things, including its markets. I only needed to walk out of the station before surmising that I had indeed landed in Teenage Junkshop Hell. What, in between all the goth-punk-hippy-raver fusion gear that has been trudged out in every generic shitsville market since, oh, forever or something, I was underwhelmed. Next time (and I'm all about second chances) I'll avoid the hordes and check out the back streets.

But anyway, I think what really irked me about Camden Town was the fact that on four occasions I was referred to as "ma'am" by young men. Four! I actually preferred it when I had hood-wearing hoodlums in dangerous back steets call me "Bitch". Anyhoo, it must have been my lack of crappy goth-punk-hippy-raver fusion clobber that had me signposted as positively geriatric. The first three times (in a noodle shop, while getting coffee, and then while getting another coffee, hence my oldness and need for artificial stimulants to keep me from nodding off at two in the afternoon with a tartan rug on my lap), I chose to ignore it, but the fourth was while I tried to enter through the exit barrier at Camden Town station, cos that's the wild out there kinda geriatric I am. A young man in a purple mohican and leathers stopped me:

"Sorry, ma'am, you can't go in there. You need to go round the other side," he said obligingly.

"MA'AM?! MA'AM?!" I hissed, "So it's all 'Bollocks to the Establishment', eh? You ain't foolin' me with your 'Anarchistic' clothes and hair-do, you fucking toffee-nosed toff! Johnny Rotten would be rolling in his grave if he was dead."

And then I gobbed on him, gave him a Glasgow kiss and pogo-ed over the barrier.



At 9:30 PM, Blogger Your Girl Friday said...

They sell coffee in noodle shops over there?!?!? Straaaaange... my noodle shop only sells iced green tea, which is positively horrid.

May I ask what a Glasgow kiss is!?

I'd design a blog for you but don't know how... I've given up thinking about my layout and surrendered to the fact that it is and will always be crapola!

At 1:16 AM, Anonymous Mr Mom said...

Is a Glasgow Kiss like getting ones ears boxed?

At 9:40 AM, Blogger M-m-m-m-m-m-m-Momo said...

A Glasgow kiss is headbutting someone ...

Nah, the coffee wasn't at a noodle shop, it was in a coffee shop. Perhaps my commas are going awry.

At 1:03 AM, Blogger Desci said...

I remain cynical regarding the end of your anecdote. xo

Also, if you you go start a new blog, please, alert the masses. I need my semi-regular momo-fix (?!)

At 2:01 AM, Blogger moocher said...

I'm disappointed that after you took the Tube over to Camden to wander around, you didn't buy some funky records with that old Motown sound. I have it on good authority that that's what all Aussies in London do ;) (What, the Waifs aren't good authority??!)

At 10:53 AM, Blogger M-m-m-m-m-m-m-Momo said...

Fiction's the new fact, Desci baby.

Moocher - yeah, I will give it another go, it was just these markets I was so disappointed with. And the ma'am thang ... and the fact I was in a bad mood.

At 2:57 PM, Anonymous stef said...

to fully appreciate camden, sans the crappy punks, overdone goths and tired ravers, and to have a decent mooch about the locks & stuff I would suggest a meander down from Chalk Farm, and perhaps do it on a Friday, or even at a push a saturday....those bleeding kids flippin' cram the place on a sunday.


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