On my walk from Noting Hill to Tate Modern, I went through the parks. I was in Kensington Gardens when a purple helicopter landed on the Kensington Palace lawn. The racket was incredible. Chop, chop, chop… A bunch of fucking royals came out of the palace in a long, black limousine. The fops could not make on their own those couple of hundred steps to their flying machine. The racket was again infernal as they flew off on their merry way. Chop, chop, chop, chop, chop… In my city of old, there would be no royals to begin with, but even those occasionally visiting the place would be carted about in gondolas. Splish, splash… Splish, splash…