Conclusion

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The Misanthropic Londoner

It can be hard to recognise a Londoner when they are out in London. They will very rarely visit a popular London tourist attraction, such as the London Eye or Buckingham Palace. Most would have never visited Madame Tussauds, unless they were themselves, or accompanying, a child. Instead, such places are filled with foreign tourists photographing the wax model of Tara Palmer-Tomkinson, thinking it is a deformed Victoria Beckham.

They don't go out and enjoy what London has to offer, because there is no sense of pride amongst them. Perhaps this is because there is no sports team called London, like Liverpool has. One is never going to visit a pub in London, and see a bunch of drunks cheering 'Come on London!', whilst standing around a TV.

That's why London is full of misanthropic beings. No-one talks to each other, because everyone knows that no-one says anything of interest, and there are people in London who haven't moved any of their face muscles in over 20 years. In fact, people are now designing buildings which, when the sun is in the right position, will burn whatever resides in the street below. Only a misanthrope builds a death ray.

Misanthropes are everywhere.

However, as I say this, I realise that over the past three years, I have become one of them. A Londoner. When I first came to this city, I was bright-eyed and taking in all the tourist attractions I could. However, I noticed a change when I visited Madame Tussauds at the end of my first year. I spent half of the time complaining about the price, and the rest snubbing the appropriateness of the immortalised beings in there.

Since then, the frequency with which I visit popular places has rapidly decreased. I haven't visited an attraction in London for over a year, and I now only commute when it is completely unavoidable. I have never had a patriotic thought about the city, and never given up my seat on a train. My face hasn't even expressed an emotion since I saw a legless man pushing himself over Westminister Bridge on a skateboard, in the winter of 2011. I 'ave even dropped the letter 'h' from my vocabulary, and now proceed to call strangers 'mate' and 'darling', with every conversation ending with 'cheers'.

Over the years, my skin has become inch-thick with pollution, and I have sneered at anyone who has ever made a noise within a 100 metre radius of myself. Being a misanthropic Londoner means I am just one accidental elbow in the rib away from turning Grand Theft Auto into reality.

So, it is at this point, before I go on my killing spree and get my face plastered over the news, that I must say the following….

Cheers mate.