#oneaday Day 553: Cream crackered

I am lying on the prison-like bed of a Travelodge somewhere in deepest, darkest Kings Cross, and I am absolutely exhausted. As noted yesterday, today was our Work Christmas Do, and as anticipated, I have bowed out of proceedings before the evening drinking in a bar because I absolutely could not even contemplate spending any time whatsoever in a busy, noisy London bar right now. We spent about half an hour in one while waiting for our dinner reservations earlier, and that nearly made me want to run away screaming, so voluntarily subjecting myself to more of that is firmly off the table.

The rest of the day has been good fun though! Monopoly Life-Sized was quite entertaining, though also subject to Overeager Forced Fun from the staff. I can't blame them for that, though; it's almost certainly drummed into them that they have to be high energy at all times, even if it is patently obvious that the grumpy middle-aged group in attendance is very much Not Up For dancing, chanting and shouting.

The game itself was enjoyable, if a little chaotic. We had four teams, three of which consisted of our group and the fourth was a bewildered looking couple who got lumbered with us. Each turn, two teams got to roll a die and move around the giant (but hugely condensed) Monopoly board, while the other two got a "Strategy" turn, where they could either build a house or hotel on a property they owned, or take on a challenge to earn a bit of in-game cash.

When landing on an unowned property, the team had to go into a little cubicle behind the "space" and complete a challenge to take ownership of it; these varied enormously, including a bar billiards-esque ball-rolling game, a cooperative rhythm game, frantically pedalling an exercise bike at arm level, and various puzzles. There was a lot of variety, and the games were fun, if quite easy for the most part.

Building a house or hotel, meanwhile, tasked you with assembling a Tangram-like puzzle in the shape of a Monopoly house piece. The "community chest" challenges were mostly puzzles themed around various well-known Monopoly cards, though they included both mental and skill-based challenges.

All in all, it was a good time, though the game attendants were a little too willing to "cheat" on your behalf in order to ensure no-one spent too much time "failing". This felt a bit patronising, but again, it's probably in their "script".

For dinner, we went to a steak specialist restaurant, and most of us had, of course, steak. It was really good, and the bread and butter pudding dessert was also delicious. I was absolutely ready to call it a night by the time we were done there, though, so here I am now.

I think I'm mostly over "going out" — particularly going out for drinks. The brief period we spent in a Leicester Square pub prior to dinner was actual hell for me — thankfully, there was an outside area, and I even managed to get a seat before too long. Much needed, as the entire Monopoly thing had been standing up, and I was very tired.

Anyway, like I say, it's been a mostly pleasant evening aside from all the walking and that brief period in the pub, so I'm glad I came along. I am very much looking forward to getting home tomorrow, though.

#oneaday Day 475: A traitorous experience

As noted yesterday, today was a Work Day Out. Not a Work Day Out where we had to do any work, but a Nice Thing To Do Together, presumably for the purposes of "team-building" and suchlike. I may sound cynical, but honestly my workplace is such a nice, small company that any occasion like this just feels like a nice gathering of friends — albeit one where the boss foots the bill. Winner.

Our main activity for the day was The Traitors Live Experience, an interactive group game based on the (apparently) popular TV show. (I've never seen it. But that doesn't mean much these days.) I was a little concerned ahead of time that we might end up playing with strangers, but thankfully we had enough people in our group to ensure that our game, which had 11 people total (and could have supported up to 14) was entirely people who knew each other. While The Traitors TV show is based on the assumption that most of the participants won't know one another prior to playing, they have a lot longer to get to know each other; as such, since The Traitors Live Experience is just shy of two hours in length, I suspect it is best played with people you have, at the very least, a passing acquaintance with.

I'm going to explain how the game works now on the assumption that you, like me, have never seen The Traitors, so if you're a big fan of the show and you feel like I'm stating the obvious, I can only apologise. I am not able to comment on the experience from a fan's perspective, so this will have to do you for now.

After an opportunity to hang out together in a comfortable bar area (with seating!) before your game starts, you are led into the depths of the venue, through a series of creepy Resident Evil mansion-style corridors, until you eventually reach your "Round Table" room. Once ensconced in your seat of choice, which you will stay in for the majority of the game, your host introduces the game and how it works.

Before play proper begins, at least one Traitor is selected. This unfolds through everyone seated at the table blindfolding themselves with blackout goggles, then loud music playing while the host stalks around the room and taps one or more people on the shoulder, indicating that they are the Traitors for the game. The remaining players are the Faithful.

The Traitors Live Experience unfolds in two parts: "day"-based missions and "night"-based potential betrayals. During the day, the group as a whole is given some sort of task to complete, and successfully achieving this rewards the group as a whole with "gold". You don't actually win any cash (unlike the TV show) — the "gold" is simply a score of sorts. At the end of the game, if all the Traitors have been eliminated, the Faithful score all the points, while if even one Traitor remains, the Traitors take all the points. The venue has daily leaderboards for how well Faithful and Traitors have performed.

At night, everyone dons their blackout goggles once more, but the Traitors are invited to take them off partway through proceedings. At this point, one of several things can happen: they can "murder" someone by pointing at them; they can "blackmail" a Faithful, causing them to become a Traitor (though I believe there are conditions on when this can occur, such as when a Traitor is eliminated from the game) or nothing at all can happen. Once again, if someone is "murdered", the host silently taps them on the shoulder, and they remove themselves from the room before everyone else takes their goggles off.

Being murdered (or, in later rounds of the game, "banished" by the Faithful if they believe you are a Traitor) doesn't mean your game is completely over; instead, you are removed to a separate room where you can watch live camera feeds of the surviving players, and at various junctures you are given the opportunity to interact with the games they are playing by solving puzzles in the other room, or perhaps by finding creative ways to communicate "from beyond the grave", as it were. There was a nice vaguely "escape room" feel to this side of proceedings, helping even those who are eliminated early to feel involved in the complete game.

As it happens, I, a Faithful, was murdered quite early on due to my strong performance in one of the missions and making some solid observations during the pre-Banishment deliberations. I was worried that getting knocked out early would be boring and annoying, but actually it was rather fun, particularly once some other people joined me in the room and we had to discuss whether to help the survivors or actively sabotage their attempts.

The missions themselves are all pretty simple parlour game-style puzzles — I assume they have a bank of them available to randomise so that two games aren't exactly alike. In our game, we initially had a straightforward puzzle where we had to rotate dials on the table to accurately depict the cycles of the moon. This was followed by a "spot the difference" game where we were showed a model of a crime scene and some photographs of a few details from it, then shortly after, we were shown a different model of the same crime scene (and "the same but potentially different" photographs) and tasked with spotting five changes, with bonus points on offer if we could determine how the corpse was actually murdered.

After that, we had a game where we were challenged to press a hidden button under the table after an exact amount of time had elapsed — this was the one I excelled at, since I've always been rather good at that sort of thing — and, after I'd been eliminated, the group were tasked with arranging a set of Tarot-like cards in order (with us "assisting" from beyond the grave by flashing the lights in the Round Table room from afar) and, as the grand finale, the group were challenged to recreate several scenes shown in silhouette by equipping themselves with props and standing in place.

I don't know how close in execution the whole thing is to the TV show, but plenty of effort has been made with the presentation of everything. There's plenty of cool lighting effects, dramatic music and suchlike, and the "Round Table room" is nicely detailed, even concealing a secret exit to "Traitors Tower", where the finale sequence took place. The whole thing was very enjoyable, and I'm glad I overcame my initial misgivings about playing a game so based on social cues to enjoy the experience.

As I say, I feel like for certain types of people, the experience will lose some of its appeal if you attend in a small group and end up being paired up with strangers, but likewise some people will thrive in that environment. It's good that the game is seemingly flexible and doesn't force anyone to do anything they're uncomfortable with — prior to starting the game, you're given the opportunity to privately indicate if you'd rather not be a Traitor from the outset, though this doesn't preclude you from potentially being "recruited" later in the game if the Traitors' ranks find themselves thinning.

We followed our time at The Traitors Live Experience with a late lunch at The Ivy Market Grill, a posh and expensive restaurant on Covent Garden that lets you go "I had lunch at The Ivy" without having to actually go to the real Ivy in the West End or pay the astronomical prices required to become a member of The Ivy Club. I had a cheese souffle, a sirloin steak and a chocolate bombe for dessert. All of them were delicious and I am still stuffed even now, a good four hours after we finished eating. The diet has gone out the window for today, of course, but y'know what, it doesn't matter. I had a good time, and I can be back on track tomorrow. It's not as if I'm going to be eating like that every day, after all.

Anyway, all in all it was a very good day, and I'm glad I went along. I'm knackered now, though; on paper it might not sound like we did all that much, but when you take into account the train travel in both directions, add the walking required when progressing across London in various ways, add the energy required to keep your social batteries topped up for most of a day with the same group of people, it all adds up. So I'm back home now, writing this in my pants, feeling thoroughly satisfied. Probably an early night tonight, though.

Although Silent Hill f did arrive today, so…

Want to read my thoughts on various video games, visual novels and other popular culture things? Stop by MoeGamer.net, my site for all things fun where I am generally a lot more cheerful. And if you fancy watching some vids on classic games, drop by my YouTube channel.

If you want this nonsense in your inbox every day, please feel free to subscribe via email. Your email address won't be used for anything else.

#oneaday Day 69: A Grand Day Out

We had a work day out today. Despite us not being based in London and none of us living in London, we went to London.

I haven't been to London for a very long time. For context, the last time I went to London they had not introduced the ability to "touch in" and "touch out" on the Underground with a credit or debit card.

My work colleagues went to The Crystal Maze Live Experience first of all, but I passed on that as I suspected I probably wasn't physically fit enough to take part. A shame, because it sounds like it was fun, but I don't mind too much. I'm knackered enough as it is!

Instead, I joined everyone for lunch at Covent Garden. We went to an "Asian fusion" place with touchscreen tables that didn't work very well, and had a selection of Japanese-style tapas. Pretty tasty, though I have been left with foul smelling burps.

I suspect that may have been more to do with the cocktails we had at our next destination, an arcade bar just off Oxford street. This was a dingy basement with lots of blacklight and some great arcade machines, though a few clearly needed a bit of TLC on the displays.

There was a great mix of classic stuff, including oldies like Galaga, Pac-Man and Donkey Kong, along with later large scale stuff like OutRun 2 and all three Time Crises. It wasn't free play, sadly, you had to buy tokens (£9.50 for 15, and a lot of games took 2 tokens) but the CEO was kind enough to provide us a generous allowance. There were also plenty of consoles equipped with Everdrives and equivalents, and those were free for anyone to play.

It was an enjoyable hangout. A little loud for decent conversation — from the music rather than the machines — but there was a nice vibe, and it seemed to pick up and become quite lively as afternoon turned to evening. The gaming-themed cocktails were great, too, even if they were all at least £11 a pop.

I am, however, as previously noted, absolutely pooped, so now it is time to sleep. I suspect I will sleep well tonight!

If you want this nonsense in your inbox every day, please feel free to subscribe via email. Your email address won't be used for anything else.

1193: London Calling

I went to London today. I do not like going to London. I do not like London generally, in fact.

Fortunately, my trip to London today meant that I didn't have to go very far, as in I didn't have to catch the tube or the train or the bus or anything like that. We got a coach in (which, yes, did require getting up at 5 in the morning, but which was a relatively painless experience) then were able to walk to where we were going (the passport office, if you were curious) and then walk back, catch the bus home and not have to piss about with Londoners and their attitudes towards other people.

For many, living in London appears to be some sort of ultimate goal, some sort of Ultimate Cool Status. It is, of course, certainly true that a lot of industries make their home in the nation's capital — the UK video games industry barely acknowledges that any other city exists, for example — but I cannot possibly imagine ever living there. It must be hellish. And expensive. Why would you want to pay a fortune to live somewhere that is hellish?

I had a job offer a while back that would have required me to move to London. I've thought back on my career path since then, which has been entirely working from home for American companies, and I wonder if I might have been better off taking that one as it was a more inherently "stable" position. The conclusion I inevitably reach is "no", incidentally, with a large contributing factor to feeling that way being the fact that I don't have to live in London. (The others being that I wouldn't, by now, be living back in Southampton near my friends and with Andie, which are all awesome things in my life that I'm happy about.)

I'll tell you why I don't like London. Well, some of the reasons, anyway.

The weather is never right. When it's grey and miserable, it's really grey and miserable, and the dirty streets and oppressive, cramped way in which all the buildings are crammed together just emphasises how grey and miserable it is. When it's hot, meanwhile, like it was today, it's really hot, and humid, and the thickness of the dirty air from the hordes of cars who inexplicably think it's a good idea to drive around Central London (hint: it's really not) just makes it all the more unpleasant to immerse yourself in. Particularly when, yes, you've been up since five in the morning.

As I said above, thankfully I didn't really run into my other London bugbears today as we were pretty much "in and out" — or as close to "in and out" as is possible when riding a bus from a couple of hours' drive away. For the record, though, said bugbears largely revolve around people who have to be wherever they're going faster than you getting wherever you're going. This most commonly shows itself on the Underground escalators, where the left lane is the "dickhead" lane of people who think that barging past people who are often carrying large, heavy suitcases and/or bags will get them where they're going a bit faster. (Hint: it probably doesn't, given that when you get to the bottom you all have to wait for the same train.) It also shows itself on the street, where if you dare walk anywhere except smooshed up against a wall, some jerkoff in a suit will come charging past you on Important City-Boy Business and make you — just for one, single, blissful, homicidal instant — consider pushing him into the path of the open-top tour bus that is coming around the corner.

As I say, though, thankfully I didn't encounter any of these issues today, and instead we saw some ducks, geese and other unidentified (well, someone has identified them, obviously) birds in St. James' Park. Which was quite nice.

I still hate London, though. Even with its "nice bits".

#oneaday Day 519: Good News

Almost a year ago to the day, I posted an entry on this very blog noting that I was starting to feel more positive about things. Of course, things didn't quite work out the way I planned for quite some time, but for those of you who don't follow me on Twitter, I'm pleased to report that today, Tuesday June 21, 2011, I was offered an actual job from an actual company. Not only that, but the actual job from the actual company in question represents something that I actually want to do — something that I was beginning to give up hope on. Something I'd given up hope on enough to apply to be a customer service monkey for British Gas — an opportunity which they were keen to pursue with me, but which I thankfully didn't follow up on. I don't see myself as a phone jocket. Largely because I fucking hate talking on the phone.

No, this new job, which I will refrain from posting too many details about until I've signed various contracts and officially accepted the position, will have me doing some writing in the games industry, though not as a journalist. It's a role at a software company, meaning I'll hopefully have the opportunity to be exposed to the process of game development as well as marketing. It's based in London, too, which is a mild pain in terms of accommodation prices, but quite exciting in that it's 1) closer to my friends who are still on the south coast 2) closer to my friends who now live in London and 3) it's London, and I've never lived in London before.

From a cursory examination of Rightmove, actually, the area of London that would be most practical for me to live for this job actually doesn't cost that much more than a shithole like Aldershot. Granted, in Aldershot you probably get a bigger room for your money, but given that I'm effectively "starting over" at level 1 with nothing but vendor trash gear on my back, I don't mind slumming it in a pokey little flat for a while. After all, the future's already looking brighter, so better things will inevitably be on the horizon.

This, then, represents pretty much all of the negative status effects I picked up over the last year and a bit being lifted. Now it's just a case of restoring HP (and finances), acquiring better gear (and somewhere to live) and then the path is clear to level 80.

Or, you know, something less geeky. Oh, sod off. I can express my good news however the hell I want.

So, then, that was today. I start my new job on July 4, so that will be a period fraught with both excitement and nervousness — but the good kind, rather than the "shit, everything is going wrong, how am I possibly ever going to get through this?" kind. Which is nice.

#oneaday Day 124: Landmark

It's quite amazing what you find right under your own nose sometime. No, I'm not talking about that disgusting green mucous that dribbled forth from your nostrils when you had that really hot chilli earlier. I'm talking about the cool stuff in the place where you live — or in the places near where you live — that you completely ignore because, well, they're right there and therefore you take them for granted.

I'm specifically referring to London which, if you're paying attention, you'll know I'm currently sitting in. London is full of Awesome Stuff, yet if you work here, or spend most of your visits to our nation's illustrious capital hunting down job interviews, yelling into a mobile phone or attempting to cross the entire city without leaving a Pret A Manger for more than two minutes then you probably won't notice them.

I went to the Tower of London today. Yes, the one with the ravens and the executions and all that stuff. It's an impressive structure, and properly interesting to wander around inside, if only because it's a very old castle that is pretty much completely intact, although they don't chop people's heads off there any more. The Crown Jewels are pretty impressive, too — very sparkly, though a bit too bling for everyday wear, to be honest. And the coronation robe looks a bit like a pair of curtains.

The guided tour around the place — a thing I normally hate with a passion, as you inevitably get stuck behind a sweaty German tourist who is sixteen feet taller than you, has a chronic flatulence problem and no sense of personal space — was highly entertaining thanks to the Yeoman's sense of humour and entertaining mannerisms. He made the stories about various people having their heads chopped off interesting, and gave some interesting context to the relics and antiquities on display in the museumy parts of the tower.

From the equipment on display, we can conjecture that all previous Kings of England were tanking classes, thanks to their heavy plate armour, though many later monarchs favoured the flintlock pistol, including one absolutely massive one that must have been about eight feet long, thereby disqualifying itself from the "pistol" category somewhat.

Interestingly, there was also a P-90 "Personal Defense Weapon", last seen in GoldenEye 007 on the Nintendo 64 — and in StarGate, apparently. Oh, and a gold-plated sub-machine gun. And a jewel-encrusted pistol that was actually a working thing, confiscated by the police. Kind of awesome, even if it did actually kill someone.

So anyway, this rambling does have a point: if you live somewhere with something awesome (or near somewhere with something awesome) then for God's sake go and visit it. It's famous for a reason.

#oneaday Day 123: Going Underground

The London Underground is, like most subterranean metro systems, something of a mixed blessing. It allows you to quickly and easily traverse London without having to take your own life into your hands every time you cross a road, but sometimes I wonder if the very nature of the transport system makes it less efficient than it perhaps could be.

Take my journey to where I am right now, for example. (In a hotel overlooking Tower Bridge.) I had to catch a Circle Line train from Kings Cross to get here. In order to get from the platform where my train arrived into Kings Cross to the platform where Circle Line trains departed from, I had to walk for a good 10-15 minutes, including up and down a few sets of stairs and through a labyrinthine series of corridors that the Minotaur would be proud of.

It gets worse if you have to change lines somewhere. Not only do you have to walk all the way to the platform, you then have to get off and walk for another 10-15 minutes to get to the other line in the station, which is inevitably a very long distance away, somewhere deep in the bowels of the Earth.

And then when you poke your head back out above ground, you realise that the fifteen stops you've taken have actually caused you to travel less than a mile, and that you can still see your starting point from where you are sitting right now.

Despite all this, though, I kind of like travelling on the Underground. It presents a curious assault on the senses, the likes of which you don't get anywhere else. There's the smell, for one thing — and I'm not talking about the pissy scent of a tramp who has collapsed, possibly dead, somewhere in the station. I'm talking about that strange smell you get near the platforms. I have no idea what it is, and it's probably something unpleasant, but I kind of like it.

Then there's the sound. Underground trains make great noises. From the vwwwwoooooooo they make when they're moving to the clackity-clack of running over bumpy bits in the track (fear my technical knowhow of how the rail systems of this country work) to the unnecessarily plummy voice of the automated announcement system, there's a great combination of sounds.

Plus, if you ever get bored waiting for a train, you can always play the Which Rat Is Going To Get Electrocuted First game, the rules of which I probably don't need to explain.

#oneaday Day 119: Birth Day

It's my birthday today! I'm 30. Changes of decade are generally assumed to be significant events, but really, once you pass the age of 18, there are very few really meaningful age milestones and the number of years you've been alive is just a number. So I've been alive for 30 years, and I've not achieved many of the things I'm supposed to achieve before you're 30. In fact, I've never bothered to make a list of "things I want to do before I'm 30" and when probed recently, my friends couldn't come up with many things worth doing that I would no longer be able to do after today. So that's good.

Birthdays have been something of a non-event for a while. They're one of those things like Easter and Christmas that cease to have any real meaning after you've "grown up", whatever that means. So I haven't been expecting that much from them for quite a few years. And, generally speaking, this has meant I haven't been particularly disappointed — they've been pleasant enough, with a few presents, cards and whatnot, but nothing particularly remarkable.

This year's a bit different, though. Despite the fact that turning 30 is ultimately meaningless, I'd figured it might be nice to do something to remember. And my awesome girlfriend agreed — so it is that we're currently sitting in a nice hotel in London having just seen Chicago at the Cambridge Theatre, and tomorrow we're off to Southampton to eat curry, see friends and generally have a good time.

Chicago, for anyone considering seeing it, by the way, is awesome, clever, full of catchy tunes and a selection of fine lady-arses and rippling man-torsos (depending on what you're into, of course.) Also, most of the cast is inexplicably dressed in their underwear throughout, so bonus.

So this birthday has been awesome for many reasons, not least of which is the fact that my last birthday was just before lots of things went to shit. But the less said about all that the better now, as it's hopefully been pretty clear from here and Twitter and whatnot that things — while not perfect just yet — are at least on the up and improving.

This is good. I approve of things getting better. And I have a feeling they're going to continue to improve. My thirties could well be the decade where Good Things Happen. Where I find some sort of "life course", as it were. Because although I've technically had a "career" when I was a teacher, it clearly wasn't the right thing for me.

So here's to being 30. It's been pretty good so far, frankly, and let's hope it continues to be awesome.

Oh, right, and two rich white people got married today too, apparently.

#oneaday, Day 54: Travels of an Angry Jedi - Brick Lane

London is a city of many surprises. A lot of them are "oh, this part of our illustrious capital is a shithole", but surprises nonetheless. Today's excursion was no exception.

Following an event I attended which I can't talk about (yet) we were recommended to head to an area called "Brick Lane", with the assurance that "if you like curry, you can't go far wrong". I like curry, so it seemed like a sensible choice.

I wasn't ready for what our party was confronted with. Imagine, if you will, the Las Vegas Strip. Now imagine the street is only one car-width wide and one-way. Now, instead of casinos and strip clubs, imagine every single establishment on the street is a curry house. Now, instead of people in fancy uniforms looking for valet parking and/or prostitution business, imagine every establishment has at least one overly aggressive Asian gentleman outside offering increasingly ridiculous deals in order to get you to frequent his establishment. (The best we heard was 2 free drinks and a 95% discount, which led us to believe that even breathing in the food's fumes would lead to immediate food poisoning.)

It was quite an experience, the likes of which I've never seen anywhere else. The whole street was lit up like a red light district, with curry houses hawking their wares with increasingly outlandish neon displays the further down the street you went.

I've only gone and forgotten the name of the place we ate at, but it was quite good. We were recommended by someone who knew Brick Lane's idiosyncrasies to look out for two things: restaurants that were full, and restaurants that didn't have anyone hawking their wares outside. Sadly the latter was impossible as every place had someone outside badgering people with crazy deals and discounts that I doubt very much they would have honoured come bill-paying time. But the one we picked was pretty full the whole time we were there.

The toilets smelled absolutely awful, though, like a fetid stench-pit from the very bowels of Hell. Fortunately you couldn't smell them from the eating area. Probably for the best.

So there's your tourist attraction of the day. In London? Like curry? Don't mind being harassed by what are essentially curry-pimps? Then Brick Lane is for you.

#oneaday, Day 284: M25? More Like... Hell... 25?

There are many famous roads in the world. The Champs Elysees in Paris (or however you spell it… I have no idea where the accents go and also have no idea how to type accents on my netbook). That really dangerous road they drove along in Top Gear. Yungas Road. I knew that and totally didn't Google it.

But there's one road you won't find in the tourist guides, but it's a well-known road to British motorists. It's a name which strikes fear into the heart of motorists from Land's End to John O'Groats.

It is the M25, the Devil's Road, also known as the London Orbital. For the uninitiated (or American) amongst you, this is a motorway (freeway) which runs around the perimeter of London (capital of England) and goes round and round and round and round. In theory, this sounds like fun. Who doesn't like driving laps around things?

Unfortunately, the M25 is the single most frustrating road in all of Britain to drive on, largely due to the fact that despite it being (sometimes) one of the widest roads in Britain it is also one of the fullest. Particularly if they're digging it up. Which they always are.

Couple this with the inexplicable "variable speed limit" section ("You must drive at 60! Now 50! Now 40! Now 60 again! Now 70! Go wild! Oh! 50! Got you! SPEED CAMERA.") and you have a road which is infuriating, frustrating and capable of producing some of the most creative expletives on the planet.

Particularly if you drive on it at rush hour, as I did tonight. And Rush Hour on the M25 lasts for approximately six hundred years and features a time distortion allowing six hundred years to take place in the space of a single day. You could read War and Peace in the time it takes you to get from Heathrow Airport to Staines at rush hour.

So fuck the M25. Fuck it right in its stupid ass (somewhere around the Dartford Tunnel) and find another route. Seriously. If you need to go from somewhere north of London to somewhere that is in a different compass direction from London, then for God's sake avoid the hell out of London. Because for all its good points, London and its surrounding suburbs hate cars. HATE them. They want them to die. And they think that everyone who drives a car should die too, or at least pay considerable amounts of money for the privilege of driving a car.

Which is probably for the best, given that without the various tolls and "congestion charges" in place, London would be more backed-up than an old, constipated man's bowels. I mean, more than it is already.

This has been a Public Service Announcement on behalf of the Highways Agency, who also think you should fuck the M25 in its stupid ass, which is why they keep smacking it with hammers and diggers. In, you know, an attempt to, like, get at its ass. Or something.

I don't know. A 2.5 hour journey took me nearly 6 hours tonight. So my brain is addled. I think it's time to drink Cherry Coke and scrounge a satay chicken skewer. Good night!