I'd rather be reading books

Because there's 'Chicken on a Stick'. Not kebabs, actually chicken-shaped re-formed chicken that comes on a stick. Like a lolly. A meat lolly.

And there's a lunch rush in the Chicken Cottage on High Holborn.
And there's High Holborn.

And there's the Northern line between 8 and 9 and the Central line at any time.

And there's America, no offense dude, I love you I really do, but seriously what the Fox is your News trying to prove?

This isn't supposed to be a poem by the way, it's a list, but there's some coincidental rhyming and line breaks that make it easier to stay tuned.

And there's scented toilet paper. Hey scented toilet paper WHY ARE YOU?

And there's gyms, the ones with big, street-level windows where you can see all these muscle monkeys using electric machines to run off their dietary excess. They're transferring their greed into sweat and smug. It's a closed circuit of glut.

And there's festival toilets. Not the organic sawdust ones but the blue chemical plastic hell-cabin ones. And there was one of them in our garden all summer.

And there's builders EVERYWHERE building buildings to fit more people in.

And there's Soho on Fridays.
And there's the Olympics logo on everything and it's SHIT.

And there's Christianity. Forgive me for putting you on this list but Jesus Christ if most of these aren't basically your fault.

And there's no Male Pill. WHERE ARE YOU MALE PILL? why should I fuck up MY hormones? I'm a delicately balanced, unbelievably sophisticated ovary equipped life growing, cramp suffering baby making MACHINE and that's just a sack of spunk. Thanks for nothing SCIENCE you c*nt.

And there's the packaging in Wasabi, and also in the fruit section of M&S, and there's no Chicken Tikka in M&S anymore, so what is M&S even for?  Not that I mind because there's way too much chicken anyway and I would never buy a genocide sandwich.

And there's Heat magazine and the poor screwed up little girls who read it and believe it and hate themselves. Hey girls, don't hate yourselves hate everyone else it's their fault.

And there's most Saturday nights on the town
And there's every hour I spend doing what I do that I'm not allowed to talk about
and there's Twitter.

That's why I'd rather be at home reading His Dark Materials, or Tom Robbins or Miranda July, and definitely NOT James Frey because that clown has his own list and it's way worse than mine.