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London 2011 : You Can’t blame the Youth

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On my journeys I always tend to meet interesting people, in reality, many of us have interesting stories to tell, but not always we share these stories. Something gets in the way. Creators that are seen, know how to navigate current content distribution networks and have the power to influence our behavior. Just now, I realized that click bait outweighs good honest content nine times out of ten. This explains why most of the crap you watch, gets millions of views and millions of real stories told by real people get lost. And I am on a mission to change it.

This piece was written by my good friend I met since my very short 3rds rugby “Career” before I hang my boots after two injuries. But as most of the people I met thru rugby, it seems to be lasting and long friendship.

Two weeks before the “Brexit” I made my way to Manchester and later in 2016 had my 24 hours in South of London. I walked through southside (even though I was advised not no). All I could see was people being pushed out of their houses to give some space for the regeneration. Safe travel using trains were only affordable for the yuppies and every ordinary person had to take a bus, changing in pretty dodgy spots. Just to prove how dodgy it was, I got my ATM card blocked after I used it in one of the filling stations that had the only ATM in 5-mile radius (which led to many people getting robbed), and had to pay two pounds to withdraw cash. I knew then, that problems in the UK have nothing to do with Europe or Immigration – you can’t blame a mirror if your face is crooked.

And then I saw my friend posting this…

‘Two-tier system’

That’s what I heard in the ‘city of London’. Believing all the whispers were paranoid minds relatively deemed within my cognitive consciousness against the new cosmopolitan environment I found myself in. I was in Cannon-street because I gave a C.v. to a landlady who thought I was fit enough to work within her payroll roster.


Her M.g.m.t powers believed I was deemed fit to sack some young English lad ‘with a skinhead mind you’ from Brighton. To go on his way because I was to replace 4 hours on ‘his’ working day.


City of London; what a shame I had to quit the job because I wasn’t on a fair gain. Walked around a corner and sat on a random post explaining to my brother that ‘this big smoke is only a joke’. Sitting on a bike post tell him my spéal, witnessed a group of old boys in ball suits with red ribbons around their necks. Striking gold medallions were gleaming off their chests.


Too bright for my eyes I thought and I looked away because maybe these old boys are having their sanctimonious day. I felt guilty but too selfish to give a fuck because I took the job of a simple English lad, even though he was also another skit shithead. Like me, he was too ignorant to see such a beautiful town self-destruct only a few weeks later, which was very ugly.


I’m not here to write who is right and who is wrong, but I was pissed off to see London get burned to the ground. An old furniture shop that I daily passed, survived 2 world wars and the infamous I.R.A. campaign during ‘the Troubles’, was burned to the ground because the local youth were disenfranchised. Who could blame them?


‘Two-Tier System’ I was worried about a new world order, but a ‘Two-Tier System’ will never, and can’t last. One night I was walking down to Wood Green to grab some beers for my friends. This was 4 in the morn, my own will put me out on the streets but a group of black youth was blocking my path. Only a fool would walk straight through their party. I was on their block, I knew I had to be wide.
One of the boys said, “Hey you… …you Polish?”.
“Naw,” I replied.


“Yo, Babylon.” Cinder;


*Originally written back in 9th September 2011. 

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