TVR cars are dangerous, terrifyingly fast, implausibly expensive and very very beautiful. 1000 are hand made in Blackpool each year. Totally built in-house by 400 dedicated Lancashire lads from the engine to the knobs on the dashboard. And now a Russian millionaire has gone and bought the company a la Victor Kiam for £15m. First they buy most of Mayfair and Hampstead, then Chelsea Football Club and now they’re muscling in on Englands Red Rose county.
Where we live in North East London is riddled with Russians. I often stop them and ask to see their visas but they just tell me to fuck off*. I feel that it’s OK to harass them because they’re the same colour as me and therefore I can’t be accused of racial intimidation. For years now I’ve tried to regard London as a sort of Burroughs inspired inter-zone where the world is invited to come and try their luck. A place unlike the rest of Britain with wholly separate traditions and customs and a reduced amount of regulations and laws. London feels like a gigantic walled city filled to bursting with nomads (myself included) who’d rather be somewhere else but can’t leave because of the delicious mugwump jism. Tomorrow the drawbridge will be lowered and I will head out to greener pastures and fresher air for a few hours (must remember to get my hand stamped when I leave).
*I don’t really do this.