On Medium: Do not talk to me about the London Bubble…
I’m doing most of my heavy-lifting blogging over on Medium now, because the way we use the web has shifted and I don’t have time to attend this site and build it up to the point of something like John Scalzi’s Whatever – even assuming that my maunderings would ever be that interesting. However, I keep coming back here because a) SHINY and b) ALL MINE and c) lots of people land here looking for me and yes, I am around and writing.
Anyway – I wrote this about the London Bubble that keeps cropping up in the UK’s political discourse at the moment, and I am helluva mad about it. The London Bubble is not some foppish snot-nosed twat in a frock coat telling farmers and miners how to live. It’s London walking into a future where you don’t get booed for walking into a pub while black. It’s gay people kissing on whatever damn park bench they like. It’s women wearing burkinis, headphones, steampunk leather, pajamas or frickin’ alligator plushie onesies if that’s what they want to do.
In fact I’m going to go put that in now, belatedly.