I’ve just come to the conclusion that what I thought was a bit o’ fun cartoon, somewhere down
the left hand side, is, in fact, an interview with some guy here illegally who, upon popping out to buy a carton of fags and a bottle of rum from the Polish guy in a white van, happened to notice the sign on the side of the
van asking him if he’d like to go home.
Another guy, also purchasing his weekly smokes an’ drinks, saw our illegal friend reading the van
and remarked. “Bolting horses and stable doors spring to mind?”
Having absolutely no idea what the chap was wittering on about, in very poor English, he quickly
proceeded home and locked the door securely behind him. It was only then, too late, that he realised he’d been short changed for his fags and rum.
The writing on the van had given him much to ruminate upon.
He enjoyed the benefits system and often thought how generous it was considering the news nightly, read by that nice guy with the foreign lookin' name,
told him how bust the country was. He did remain wary of the locals, although he didn’t actually know who the real locals were amongst the bewildering diversity of diversness he encountered daily. He was, however, a tad sad
that the promised global warming gig, which would’ve made here more like home, but with free stuff, had failed to materialise. And he’d also become very conscious as to how quickly this little land was filling up and breathing
space was becoming tough to find.
So that evening, sitting in his Islington bed-sit, after seriously considering all the pros and cons
and happy in the knowledge he’d managed to send a goodly chunk o’ change home, he eventually decided to fess-up and apply for a free ride home to get some sun on his back. Hay, he thought, I can always pop back if things don't pan out, right?
So this is the video of him, portrayed by a puppet to preserve his anonymity, recorded in his preflight
holding area, giving his reasoning for leaving.
Quote; Toba Beta.
“There are places on planet earth where common sense doesn't apply.”
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