Today I went out to an art gallery to be cultured and kinda fuck the system a lil' bit.
I took my indian friend, Sonia, with me, who kept coaxing me into 'fuckin da art galleri and orderin sum pizza 'ut.'

With portfolio (indie points) in bag, we roll into the tube and to the Royal Academy, venturing out of the shit hole suburbz and into the 'aint dis posh n ting' area of Central LONDON! KL!!

Fanning myself with a McDonalds application sheet, due to my beads of sweat trickling of my hot body (the train was sc0rchin'), we waddle into the gallery. I go up to the lady at the front desk. "Wot?" she says, obnoxiously chewing on gum. "Um, ok then, what time do you shut?" By this time I was almost bright purple and the sweat could be collected in buckets. Bless me <3. "Six..." "Ok, so it's free, yeah?". She almost spat her gum out. "No, you need to pay, uh."

Shit. I had zero $$$$$$$$$$$$.

Sonia shot daggerz at me.
"Nah, loik sorry, I honestly come here a lot, ya know, I generally don't pay..." I say, face looking like I've come out a paddling pool. "Whateva, Sonia hollerz back, "let's go get sum Percy Piglets or whateva they're called."

We ended up aimlessly walking around LDN. I had to endure Sonia's 'role play' of her being the badman attempting to rob me. So, I'd be walking talking to her and then all of a sudden I turn and she isn't there. I feel someone who stinks of curry breathing down my neck and hear in a dreadful liverpool/arab accent 'Alwite Missus, nobody will get 'urt, just give me your muney.' I then feel a sharp dab in my back. 'I have placed a gun in your back. Plz just hand over the money.' Business men looked at us like we were on crack, and children were cooed away from us by their parents.



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