Raced home from work last night to squeeze my run in before dark. Got the tube home, then jumped on the bus outside Woolies to save me having to walk, and got stuck at the traffic lights for ages as loads of sirens wailed past. "What a gwan?" I aksed myself (cos I is from Sarf Lahdan, innit?). As we edged across the junction of Acre Lane and Coldharbour Lane, the number of ambulances and paddy wagons suggested the obvious. What does it mean when you are actually hoping there has been a horrific road accident?
Brixton is such that there were literally about a hundred people craning their necks at the junction trying to get a better view of the action. We’re so desensitised now that it’s just another curiosity. I was worried my flatmate, just arrived from Glasgow, would be freaked out by the incident, but even he was just pissed off he had to walk from Battersea because the whole town centre was cordoned off. It’s easy to put it down to turf wars and the like, but I wonder just how cosy people will be in their beds should a white middle class city boy be caught in the crossfire next time. I’m thinking Daily Mail front page.
Still, at least it made the news (at least locally) this time – the only thing I heard about the double shooting outside the Fridge on Sunday was through my friends. For those of you who don’t live here or didn’t read the "news in brief" in the Metro this morning, the incident in question was the shooting of two 17 year old boys in a McDonalds queue as they waited to get their burgers. At half 5 in the afternoon.
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