I GOT A BAILIFFS' LETTER THIS MORNING for unpaid council tax. (Thanks a lot Margaret Thatcher.) Of course my first impulse was to break open a safety razor and do myself in the throat. But of course I didn't do that. I rang up the council (not the Bailiffs ~ I'm not talking to them) in a tone of confusion. They said I was supposed to give in proof of income months ago. I told them I never got the letter. (And anyway why can't THEY contact the Benefits Agency? Why should it be down to me? Idiots.) They said I must reapply. So heaven knows whether they will be willing to backdate the claim. They should do because I am housed here by a DIFFERENT council. Never in a million years would have chosen to live in this borough (thankfully its Conservative, which means terrible services and really low charges! That's why we have no wheelybins and foxes spray rubbish far and wide up the streets. Low council tax. Hell will freeze over before I pay this bill.
If I am liable, they're getting 50p a month max.
Talking of suicide, the man who sold me the miaow mix (mepherdrone) ~ remember that mysterious designer drug I tried that I didn't even know what it was called? That stuff. Well he was a really nice guy. (And before you call him a "drug dealer" bear in mind mepherdrome is currently LEGAL in the UK.) Well I met another friend of mine in the druggie agency reception; she told me he has DIED. Jumped in front of a tube train! How desperate would you have to be to do that??
When I was depressed once I went to the railway station to study the trains ~ ie which was best for maximum head injuries (the flat-fronted express commuter trains running INto London). One of the drivers actually (somehow) seemed to see what I was thinking and, in the split second before he whooshed on by I saw him waving arms at me. I suppose train drivers must know this sort of thing when they see it. But I'd never in a million years do a tube train. Knowing my luck I'd probably fall down the service trench under the live rail!!
I was supposed to go and see computers today but, thanks a lot council ~ am now too distracted. I feel far less depressed than I was before I got the bailiffs' letter though ~ there's nothing like a good fight to give purpose to an empty life!
LONDON TOWN: UNLIKE NEW YORK CITY, with its five cantons, London is divvied up into innumerable local councils. True Londoners take pride in not having a clue where anything is, (entire areas like "Barnes" escaped my attention for years when I first moved here)... or not being able to pronounce place names like Holborn (I say "Ho-burn" ~ like a prostitute doing the splits over a deep fat fryer) or Theydon Bois ("boyss", NOT bwaah!)
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