Slipped into Sunday

Ah, you wouldn’t Eve and Adam  it really.  I was going up Lea Bridge Road yesterday, Sunday,  and spied not one but two women in their dressing gowns, jim jams and slippers.  I, me, I don’t go to the bins without my slap on. Those cover-ups were fluffy, luxurious, all-encompassing wrap-around probably from loveable Primark beauties seen in glory on the main freakin’ road. I defended the UK race and informed myself that those miscarriers of mores were foreigners not quite assimilated into high-class newly gentrified in parts Leyton by the Station. Then I remembered Waynetta and the newspaper articles about banning women in dressing gowns from Asda. What did your mothers teach you?
Anything doesn’t go.
Today I visualised myself doing a citizen’s arrest on all the staff in every Leyton second hand shop. Hate crime is their crime.  Hate against Roma people. What must it be like to wear a swirling colourful skirt, to be holding your toddler’s hand in a shop of donated tat and be scowled at, spoken to rudely each time? I was delivering my preloved treasures and just wanted another mother to know that she was visible to me. I grabbed the musical jack-in-the-box on my trolley and gave it arm outstretched to the Roma toddler. Great thanks and smiles ensued. From each corner came staff to help me unload before I gave away more to the undeserving foreign unlawful to work poor.
Sod off you nasty haters.

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