A Small Man on His Balcony

Fistfighting men and fat, vomiting women in mini-skirts

Billy Playing Johnny a Dirty Trick

“Man, born in a family, is compelled to maintain society from necessity, from natural inclination, and from habit.”

Mother, I have made it. That upper station of low life which you and Father fashioned for me has slipped away, and I find myself now looming over the unwashed masses from my little plinth between apartments 505 and 503. The distinction between the low and the high has never been clearer, never more delicious.

If I had only known that the rise from the lower-station of life to its upper could be effectuated, not by hard work and diligence, as you had taught me, but by a simple relocation to an obscure northern town. Here, a week’s wages in London can fetch one month’s rent in a fifth-storey luxury apartment, with a balcony which overlooks one of its most degenerate, dangerous streets. I packed my bags, reported a change on Universal Credit account, and took flight.