Notting Hell

This weekend is the Notting Hill Carnival. Luckily I’m going to Scotland and will be shielded from dancing policemen, incessant steel drumming and ear-killing whistles. Warm cans of Red Stripe are available at inflated prices from ‘street sellers’. When you’ve drunk a couple, join the trend and piss in a corner.

There is talk of moving the carnival out of London. That’s good talk. Even the film is better.

If you’ve never been, I envy you.