20. března 2011 v 17:44 | K |  Letters for Elliot
..........Isn't this ironic, how they split the slots? Humph and David have a half more people there than we do, Ben is gonna hurt me pretty badly. But certainly that's what these people do, they make you to choose between the one you know what you can expect from and the pretty one.
..........Okay! To the start and just for the record for those who asked me about this earlier - Thom decided for a field trip to Wales along with Greg and Marek and as none of them has any sense for orientation I won't be surprised at all if we won't hear about them again till the end of the time. But yes, he should be here for the Faversham show.
..........Now... I think there's lots of you who actually might not have heard about me, so let me introduce myself ... I'm Kathy, I'm young, adorable, I fucking love to swear and as you can probably hear I'm not British. I don't come from any other proper European country either. I'm from the middle, where all the other ones put their rubbish. I won't complain, you know - sometimes it's better than be held for a... hitler-stalin-cheese-eating-wanker. But sometimes it can quite lower you national self-esteem. Recently I applied as an research assistant on a prestige University and the head of the department genuinely told me: 'Er, your CV is rather impressive, your transcripts are fabulous... er, excuse me, but where are you from again? Because it's sounds like a fucking Narnia to me!' At this point I learnt to link my nationality with commonly known things like... that our prime minister is a woman, secretly sexually abused by the whole council including Angela Merkel... and that, according to certain movie, we are sad, depressing people who like to cut Americans just to get better.
..........But don't get me wrong, I don't have you guys for idiots, I love Britain. You can achieve anything you ever dreamed of here, you just need to show at least a little effort. You think you couldn't be better and... then... the invitation for the University meeting comes, you know. As an tremendous reminder from hell. But! It is you sacred responsibility to stand it as good as you can. And so it goes: 'Yes, I've been living for past three years in London, I've got a lovely boyfriend, a great job, nice flat and I'm on telly at least once a week.' Your girlfriend on the other hand she has a... hacienda outside Paris, a child, awaiting another one, a husband so rich she doesn't need to work. Ever. And she recently bought a Monet, bigger than every double bed you could ever afford. You're petrified of another meeting and you may not notice that the older you get life is more senseless as well. And if, there is no way you could imagine that tit suffer just as you do. That's why, when you meet her again, even if she would talk about her third husband's broken leg, second mortgage and a cancer the whole night, all you are capable think about is 'Third husband? Yes, well, she still looks fresh and sexy', 'She has more money than I do' and 'Why is her tumor bigger than mine?' And at THIS point you realize you're 25 and that you ought to find a proper hobby.
- Edinburgh fest, fuckig future


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