Welcome to the ghetto

March 2007: I’m a Londoner. I was born there and raised there. Hell I even went to University there. London has so much to offer, it has amazing restaurants, beautiful parks and some of the best museums and galleries in the world. I’m a big fan of London. It’s a truly cool city.

April 2007: I wrote the above description last month when I was feeling a bit homesick. Sadly I’ve changed my mind and now I can’t wait to escape the city I grew up in. Last week I went home for a visit. And I was struck by the fact that the whole city has become a ghetto. Kids are being shot, stabbed or beaten up every day, the streets are filthy, people are just as filthy (have you been on a bus recently?) and most teenagers are obnoxious, ignorant little gobshites. Yeah I know what you’re thinking, she’s exaggerating. I really wish I was.

Scenario one: I’m sitting on a bus – top deck as there is no room downstairs. A group of teenager girls get on mobile phone on loud speaker so that everyone could hear the offensive hip hop they were listening to. They proceed to scream and shout for the next half an hour. Their language is appalling and their grammar and enunciation even worse. They made me feel ashamed. They had no regard for anyone on the bus and didn’t seem to care that they were offending people with their gutter tongues. So thanks very much Mr Livingstone for allowing them to travel for free on the buses. It makes my journey – and lots of other peoples journeys so much more lively.

Scenario two: I’m walking through Soho minding my own business. It’s about 9.30 on a Friday night. Its warm and I could almost be on the continent somewhere as I watch people drink coffee outside Bar Italia, soaking up the warm weather. Suddenly two guys walk past. One of them leers at a woman drinking her cappuccino and spits in her male companions face. They walk away laughing at their own bravado.

Scenario three; I’m sitting on the Piccadilly line watching the millions (well, it does seem like that) of stops to Heathrow Airport. A girl sitting opposite me takes a tangerine out of her bag. She peels it and as she does some of the peel falls to the floor. She looks at it but doesn’t bother to pick it up. She then dumps the remaining peel on the shelf behind her and gets off at Hounslow East.

You see what I mean? Londoners aren’t the friendly cheeky chappy types you see on Eastenders. They’re rude, ignorant and obnoxious. They drop litter, spit, get drunk and beat up innocent bystanders, push you through the tube barrier so they don’t have to pay, throw litter and never offer their seat on the tube or bus to someone who really needs it.

Will I be moving back to London when I return home in the summer? You must be bloody joking. I’m going to find a nice house in the suburbs and moan about the state of my home city to anyone who’ll listen.

Someone once said “If you are tired of London, you’re tired of life” (I can’t for the life of me remember who and even Google doesn’t appear to know). Well, I’m not tired of life but I’m certainly tired of London life. You can keep it.