Get Your Kick at Route 36, Bolivia's first fast-serve cocaine bar
“Take it out of the bag”, one of them whispers, as a small mountain of Bolivian marching powder unfolds from the wrap. Forming peaks where it piles on the surface, the small patch of black bin liner is emptied into the soft light of the room. They lean in; throats dry with a fiendish desire, pushing pure uncut white to and fro with an out-of-date health insurance card from some place far, far behind them now. Racked up with two fat lines sat side-by-side along the blackened edges of a bootlegged copy of Appetite For Destruction, some stranger nearby leans in and assuredly urges: “Don’t use the straw, use this”, as he carefully hands over a softened and tightly rolled 10 Boliviano note. The newcomers eye their bounty, savour a last intake breath as they lurch down, and begin judiciously disappearing it up their snouts, chattering and grunting between disjointed monologues that they might later call conversation.
Study shows that shared experiences makes us happy, so what is your problem?
Well that was fun, wasn’t it? The last 10 years I mean. As decades go it was pretty… well, decadent. It’s almost as if we’ve spent the time getting pissed on someone else’s tab at an exclusive West End club—somewhere full of smart shoes, unironic blazers and slightly wrinkling cougars decked in pearls. But now the faces have turned to us expectantly, and Clegg and Cameron are muttering darkly about it being our round. Which I suppose it is. To make things worse, some twat has only gone and ordered some 2012 Olympics at £9bn a bottle, although the occasion clearly calls for a few mineral waters and a bag of Nobby’s Nuts.
The Agony of Danny Dyer: who cares about the torrent of trivial content?
It should be self-evident that the endless column and screen inches unspooling into the eather of Western capitalist culture are nothing more than the fleeting fancies of a bunch of ill-paid, dubiously motivated hacks. We, the people, should realise the media is nothing more than a megaphone, amplifying the ideas (or idiocies) of whatever fool, knave or prince happens to wield it. Yet somehow the act of publication invests words with disproportionate importance. The babbling blog torrents and freshets of DIY media serve to dilute, a little, the impact of print.
Nevertheless, newspapers and magazines are still the voice with which British society carries on its conversations.
Never Mind The Boris: Mayor of London is more of a centrist than he lets on
When Boris Johnson was elected as Mayor of London, the Conservatives saw it as the beginning of a new blue dawn. From the top floor of City Hall, Boris would shine out as a sign of just what the party could do when it gained power.
Yet when dawn broke after the election, the scene was nothing like what he may have expected.
In local authorities across the city Labour had been swept back to power. In Brent, Camden, Ealing, Enfield, Harrow, Hounslow, Islington, Southwark and Waltham Forest Councils, voters turned out to hand control back to the Labour party.
In every borough but one Labour regained seats, reducing Conservative and Lib Dem majorities and pushing councils into no overall control.
Snipe Highlights
Some popular articles from past years
- The best church names in London, and where they come from
- A unique collection of photos of Edwardian Londoners
- Nice map of London's fruit trees shows you where to pick free food
- 9 poems about London: one for each of your moods
- Punk brewery just as sexist and homophobic as the industry they rail against
- The five spookiest abandoned London hospitals
- Number of people using Thames cable car plunges
- Random Interview: Eileen Conn, co-ordinator of Peckham Vision
- Peter Bayley has worked for 50 years as a cinema projectionist in East Finchley
- Summer Camp: Roll out those lazy, hazy, crazy days
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