As we usually do, we made for The Birdcage. The Birdcage has just changed hands, so the old hands are worried, looking shifty as if their favourite chairs will disappear overnight. Their banter with the landlady has, after all, already gone. We walk in to find the blinds are up. This is not a good sign. The point of the Birdcage was your general wanker, if they stepped in the door, generally stepped right out again, that is the traditional way and caused us a great deal of amusement. If you expose the interior to passes by, they will not be so nervous about the exercise of coming in. Whatever the plan, it was empty. More empty than usual. Like sheep, it will take a while for the wankers to cotton on. But the big coffee machine had already been installed. It's already happened I thought, like a fucking virus, the old fellas see it and they just don't bother anymore and die to meals on wheels. When the music turned to African chanting, and not a hint of Arsenal or Tottenham, I knew it was all over, just a matter of time.
I went home and drew the kitchen again.