Everyone’s favourite Britain-bashing newspaper, the New York Times, is at it again. As Mr S has noted several times this year, the paper’s coverage of Britain has rapidly slid from reasonably sensible to completely doolally, as it seeks to prove that the EU referendum has turned the UK into the worst place in existence.
Recent highlights from the publication’s coverage include the suggestion that everyone in London was eating boiled mutton and porridge until a few years ago, that nervous citizens are stockpiling food for a Brexit emergency, and that the town of Prescot has had to close its fire station (it hasn’t).
Clearly not having learned its lesson, it appears that the NYT is on the lookout for some dirt to dish on the country yet again. The publication has put out a call on social media for people to come forward to give their experience of petty crime in the city of London:
Have you experienced a petty crime in London? Click to tell us your story.
(Your submission may be selected for publication.) https://t.co/MRvmXdlYC8
— The New York Times (@nytimes) December 13, 2018
Fortunately, scores of helpful Brits were on hand to offer their own experiences of life in the nation’s capital city:
‘When I worked in London someone pushed in front of me in a queue.’
‘Once, in Wandsworth, this geezer comes up to me bold as brass and he says to me he says “a word in your lughole me old cunt, there’s a bird down the boozer wants a good bonking” and he only went and knicked me trousers right off me legs, appalled I was.’
‘I asked someone how they were and they actually told me.’
‘One of the ravens in the Tower of London kept following me around when I visited – really scary.’
‘Someone held the door open for me when I was still ten feet away and then I had to run and pretend I was grateful. I was sweaty and fuming’
‘Saw someone try and join the middle of a queue once to join their friend. Luckily the police were on hand to tut loudly at them until they moved to the rear.
‘I once gave a stranger my phone to take a photo of me and my friends on a night out and when he handed it back they were all in portrait mode’
Listening to those horrific accounts, Mr S can’t wait to see the dystopian hellscape the NYT paints of London in the next edition.