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#OutofOfficeQuotes 62: "They move to Soho and complain about the fucking noise..."

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Updated: Dec 18, 2023


“You know what I hate?” snaps Hook, “assumptions. At dinner parties you’re expected to hate the Jews and the Yanks. Down the pub and the greasy spoon you’re expected to hate the Pakis and the queers. So arrogant, don’t you think, people?”

The cocaine has come out early. He’s been flagging: his fingers feel frostbitten, his liver like a dead badger sewn inside him, so many possibilities going through his frazzled brain that the conversations around him have lost all meaning, as a chair loses meaning upon inspection. Mortgages, schools, Palestine; who cares, really, deep down?

Obviously everyone else does; Hook can tell by the way they look at him as he yells and roars. He listens to his own angry voice, astonished it’s coming from his throat when he feels so placid inside, so docile and loving.

Now he remembers why he’s so angry: the cocaine’s politically correct, made by unexploited farmers, shipped to Europe on boats powered by soya. Somehow that led the conversation round to global warming and all the associated evils, which apparently include noise-pollution. Jack and Maya, it seems, chair a noise abatement society locally. In Soho. They move to Soho and they complain about the fucking noise.



 

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