Returning from suburban-visiting, went out at midnight for last orders drink with mysterious stylistic force from the east. The east on global level, that is. Wondered if The Cat&Mutton, Broadway Market, might be open given unfavourable position/time on Easter Bank Sunday. Found the pub in full 'swing'. Suited needs well as far as providing drinks and visual entertainment. Place appeared engaged in some sort of Soft Metal night by the initial music we heard. Free's Alright Now followed Go Your Own Way by Fleetwood Mac. The assembled rabble sang the words and half heartedly held hands in air. But when came MIAs only tune, The Beatles-Help and Elvis-Jailhouse Rock, they all danced just the same. There was no point nor thrust to this thing. The dazed 'warm-washers' all did The Twist to Elvis, then gun gestures to MIA. Cool. They looked like they could well be Clapham-ites by the attire. The zeitgeist has flown. Its gone up the road.

Occasionally an intrepid revel-pillock would mount a table. Then find he/she had no moves to offer from the lofted vantage point. This is tribute hedonism, when the eclectic is mediocre but greeted with listless, learned jubilation. I'm past it, thank you, but this was awful. It was quite pleasing. The problem with everyone having a perceived fast track to being cool now is they dont know how to behave when they 'get there'. There's no pedigree or training. High five a stranger. Where did you pick that up? Why does everyone want to touch your clothes, tell you things that they think, like 'you look angry'. Is it ecstasy? Not good. My companion was suitably unimpressed, so was suitably glad. I wonder when it'll get like this in Clapton. Hope to be someone else by then.

TS out.