Just Don't Bother

This afternoon I saw a posse of Paparazzi lurking outside the Covent Garden hotel like a pack of hound dawgs waiting for a bit of stinking meat to get lobbed over the compound fence. Whichever overpaid underworked celebrity was waiting to get hammered by a volley of flash bulbs going off in their face, in my mind just didn't deserve this kind of shabby treatment. Especially from a bunch of dudes rocking the most suspect collection of beanies I ever did see. It was then that I thought to myself... But who will Pap the Paps?

This was my moment. After five minutes or so they started to shuffle around getting all excited. It appeared the stinking meat was on its way over the grill. Then all of a sudden they ran out across the road clicking madly and, dropping my Latte, I came over to meet their volley of fire with my camera phone. This'll learn them. The meat turned out to be the girl on the left with the skinny legs who I think is Alexa Chung, but who gives a crap about that. What ensued is lost to me in the blurry haze of heated battle (and to this day not something I'm totally comfortable talking about) but I managed to get this lasting shot of the enemy before I was wounded.

By wounded I mean being told to fuck right off the second they were done snapping. It seems the Paparazzi don't react well to a taste of their own medicine. Then again as they zoomed off on their mopeds proudly wearing their rubbish beanies, it occurred to me that I hadn't learned them a single thing. And if I proved a point it was never get in the way of a dog and his lunch. Or more simply put, just sit their with your Latte and watch these rabid hound dawgs tear their stinking meat apart and pap the shit out of whoever the hell they feel like, so they can earn a living and we can all read all about it the next day while we sip on our Lattes and get even stupider.

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