A couple of nights ago I was driving home and as I turned onto the Taff Embankment my car headlights shone very briefly into an alleyway, lighting up the heavily made-up face and bleached blonde hair of a prostitute.
You do occasionally see working girls down my end of town, if you know in which dark corners to look. And when I see them I feel both sad and angry. Sad that there is a trade in sex and people are exploited. Angry that there are some people out there willing to use another human being for their own gratification.
I'm beginning to term the feeling as 'sangry'.
I felt sangry when I found out that Royal Bank of Scotland, who you may remember are one of the bunch of banking bastards who helped precipitate the current financial crisis and are now publicly owned, loaned Kraft 7 billion pounds so Kraft could buy Cadbury's. So, basically British taxpayers own a bank that gave an American firm the money they needed to buy a British firm that will eventually result in job losses among the very tax payers who own the bank.
I feel sad because such roundabout deals seem impossible to stop. I feel angry because there is just something about that that is wrong and part of me feels like it will never end unless we take it to the freakin' streets and start smashing windows in the name of justice.
I'll tell you what makes me really sangry, people who stand chatting while dangling the cigarette over a buggy. Might as well shove it in the kids mouth. That makes me very sangry.
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