Sitting in the Cafe

by Matt Triewly

Preface

18th December 2015


I'm sitting in the café that's at the end of my road. It's kind of a working-class café in a kind of a working-class area. There's quite a bit of manufacturing here. Mainly boatyards and associated industry. In the café itself there are a few workmen. Young mainly, fit and strong. Real men doing a real job. None of these namby-pamby, politically correct, useless and parasitically types of which we have far too many in this country - once great country - the prime example of which is our fucking wonderful prime minister. Twat.

I hasten to add that though I love the working class and the idea of being a proper 'bloke' the reality is that I wouldn't probably last five minutes in a manual job - I am a fantasist and a hypocrite. Having said that, hypocrisy performed with the highest skill (where an individual believes his own lies) is almost an art form and a joy to watch - think Tony Blair in the early years of his premiership. However, however, once you have lost the ability to deceive and lie then it's time to go...

The waitress has just plonked down my breakfast: fried egg, grilled tomato, a couple of slices of bacon, a sausage and a slice of toast. I've already got a mug of tea.

Anyway, I've just finished my food now. Bloody tasty it was too. Proper working-class grub.

Let me quickly tell you about the waitress. About five foot two, early forties, slim, pretty-ish, dyed red hair and as common as muck. Not certain whether she's a slut but she sure looked like one. Of course, I wouldn't be so rude as to tell her that cos I know she's got a temper and I'd prob end up with having my breakfast (proper working-class food cooked in lard) being tipped over my head - a waste of £5.95.

Oh yeah, where was I. That's it, I was rabbiting on about hypocrisy and double standards and how if you can't maintain it you might just as well be yourself and I came to the conclusion that I can't keep it up any longer. Being pretentious that is. Arty-farty. It's just too draining.

So, from now on I'm just going to be blunt and plain speaking. No fancy words. No clever constructions. No dreamy reflections. No more looking for the meaning of life.

So, just thought I'd let you know.

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