Bus, taxi, car, pedestrian

In a bid to resus­cit­ate my pathetic, dwind­ling cre­ativ­ity — or rather, repeatedly kick its body in the stom­ach as it lies on the floor, plead­ing for mercy — I am attempt­ing to dis­cover whether, via the mir­acle of sleek ‘n’ sexy mobile tech­no­logy, I can write some­thing elo­quent and pro­found whilst ‘on fhe move’, being driven through the streets of Lon­don by a thank­fully mono­syl­labic cab driver who is, rather less thank­fully, listen­ing to the inane bab­blings of a pos­sibly coke-addled break­fast radio presenter.

That’s a no, then.

So I’ll see you again in a few weeks, I guess. Thank you for con­tinu­ing to hang — des­per­ately, long­ingly, hope­fully in a state of con­stant arousal but an equally frus­trated lack of orgas­mic release — upon my every infre­quent utterance.

Oh look, there’s a chim­pan­zee rid­ing a bicycle.