So there I was, arm hooked up to the machine, watching my plasma swirl away into a bag while the morning news dribbled across the screen like a bad fever dream. And what were they showing? A "riot" in Melbourne, allegedly. The sort of riot where the real thugs wear body armour, carry pepper spray and look like they just walked off the set of RoboCop. The people they were beating? A ragtag crew of teenagers and old hippies—probably fresh out of a drum circle, still smelling of patchouli. But sure, let's call it a riot. Now, here's where it really gets good. I mentioned this spectacle to a few people later, thinking maybe they'd share my outrage or, at the very least, give a damn. But no. What did I get instead? A smirk, a chuckle, and—oh, the pièce de résistance—"You should really just let it go." Let it go? Yeah, let me uncork a nice, overpriced cup of coffee, sit back with my legs crossed, and soak in the latest reality TV trash. Why bother caring when ...
Comments
And the car headlight.
And maybe you could take just one step to the left.
But I really like this one.
BTW - struggling with The Russia House.
The Russia House is very much a 'quite' spy novel. Depending on my mood, I like to swing between this sort of thing and a rip roaring McLean. But hey, I'm reading Plato right now so I can't be too fussy!
I did enjoy the ending of 'Making History'. I didn't see that coming, to be honest.