London: Same Old Shithole, Just With Better Lies

I’m back from London, you filthy bastards, the city I used to call home before I fled to the Midlands to escape the stench of your collective bullshit. I tore through this cesspit like a rabid dog on a bender—Euston, Camden, Canning Town, a quick jaunt to the O2, a detour to Croydon, Reigate, even a begrudging family visit in Watford and Northolt on my way back to the Midlands. I came here expecting a dystopian hellscape, the kind of apocalyptic nightmare Twitter’s been jerking off to for years. You know the one: machete-wielding gangs, Sharia death squads, immigrants shitting in the streets, Muslims praying in traffic, zombie knives dangling from trees like fucked-up Christmas ornaments. I was ready to wade through the blood and filth, notebook in one hand, taser in the other, screaming truth into the void.

Guess what, you lying sacks of shit? I didn’t see any of that.

London’s changed, sure. Skyscrapers are taller, houses are smaller, and everyone’s rushing around like they’ve got a live grenade up their ass. But that’s it. Same old London, just slightly shittier. Where’s the war zone Twitter promised me? Where’s the carnage? I didn’t see a single fight. No one got raped. No machete gangs tried to carve me up for my boots. The so-called “no-go zones” were just… normal. People going about their business, same as ever. Most of the scum I passed were white trash, swearing at strangers and kicking cars like the subhuman filth they’ve always been. This isn’t the city Twitter’s been screaming about. It’s not a fucking war zone. It’s just… London.

I’ll give you one moment where I thought the bullshit might be real. I was dragging my sorry ass back to Custom House station after crashing in a shithole that smelled like despair and cheap bleach. Suddenly, the vibe shifted. Up until then, it was a game of “spot the non-white guy”—spoiler, I was losing. But then I walked past the “MIA Masjid,” some mosque that looked like a regular house unless you squinted at the sign. Muslims everywhere, walking in from every direction. Not one of them was praying in the street. No violence. I even got a few smiles and a “morning” as I trudged through, looking like death warmed over. But here’s the kicker: no white faces. No English being spoken. Just a sea of brown faces and languages I didn’t understand. For five minutes, I was the outsider. Then I got to the station, and boom—back to white, English-speaking London. That was it. That was the big, scary moment Twitter’s been warning me about. Five fucking minutes of feeling out of place in a city of millions.

Twitter lied. And you idiots ate it up.

Let’s talk stats, because I know you racists love your numbers. Knife crime’s up 80% since I lived here, but guess what? That shit was happening decades ago, long before the “immigrant invasion” you lot love to cry about. Unemployment’s up 47%. Non-white population’s up 46.2%, and two-thirds of Londoners are now ethnic minorities. Yeah, it’s changed. But it’s not the lie you’ve been fed. It’s still London. Still the same stinking shithole I remember. You can still walk the streets without getting shanked. The trash is still trash, just with a different skin tone. Everyone’s still rushing around, stressed out of their minds, hating their neighbors, ready to spit on you rather than help you up. Immigration hasn’t changed a damn thing—it’s just given the bigots on Twitter a new scapegoat for their hatred.

What did I learn from this little trip down memory lane? London’s changed, but it’s also the same goddamned place. It’s still the violent, miserable cesspit of the country. Crime’s everywhere, everyone’s stressed, unemployment’s a plague, and people would rather kick you in the teeth than give you a hand. It’s a shit pit. Always has been. The only difference now is the color of the subhuman filth walking the streets—and the fucks on Twitter are using that as an excuse to push their vile, fear-mongering agenda.

You can visit this shithole safely. I just did. It’s the same as ever. You might see a few more brown faces, hear a few more languages you don’t understand. Big fucking deal. London’s still London. Same old violent, hateful, miserable dump. The only dystopia here is the one you’ve built in your head, fueled by the lies you swallow whole from your screens.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need a drink. And a shower. This city’s filth clings to you like a disease.

Spider Thompson, signing off.