Letter to The Guardian

I replied to a article in the guardian last week, as it seems they won't be printing it, i will post it here.

Why no-one else is mourning the ruined market.

I am glad Michael Hann, and his undoubtedly lovely wife, don't care about Camden burning down(12/02/08) - because if the locals don't care, then why should anyone else? The only real tragedy is that the flames didn't dance through the whole miserable little town. Although I am sure if they did, the dance would be a very tight trousered, indie affair.

Hann uses the word 'we' like he is on the council of cool cats in Camden; as if he speaks for his minions like some sort of overlord, whose job it is to look individual (like all the other individuals in Camden), listen to the new three-chord wonderband, and decide on a day-to-day basis which pub is cool to hang out in. In his hugely entertaining, yet unbelievably hypocritical tirade against Goths, cheap rubbish on stalls, wannabe indie kids on the look out for drugs, and, let's not forget, the "sedated cattle" remark, it is almost as if he thinks there is anything even remotely interesting about this place - there isn't really, unless you are trying to buy a rasta hat, thick rimmed sunglasses, or, of course, drugs. A lot of people in Camden want you to buy drugs.

So, Michael, the lovely little town you call home is the 'drug theme park' you mentioned, and it always will be, as long as the cool Camden-ites continue to flaunt their drug use publicly. In my experiences of Camden, it's a town full of wannabes (you included Mr. and Mrs. Hann), a sorry bunch of faux-bohemians desperately trying to cling onto what Camden once was - a place for artists, down-and-outs, and burnt-out hippies to hang out; no iPods, no forced image, just the vibe. Now, the closest thing you get to vibe in Camden is people sitting in their flats smoking grass, listening to Bob Marley, blissfully unaware of how tragically cliché they have become.