Go on...Push My Buttons

I have a lot to bitch about:

Like people not getting back to me about serious gigging.
Like teenyboppers stealing wristbands from me by lining up from 3am so I can't get to see a band I like.
Like my job pretty much sucking.
Like me feeling the empty part of being single.
Like missing my mates back home fiercely.
Like having to beg favours from my mates because my job pays so porly i can't afford to get my posters printed up.
Like nearly getting mugged on Sunday morning (I did punch the 7ft hoodie for his sad attempt at taking my cell before jumping back onto the bus. Mind you, I was a bottle of wine and a 12hr shift down)

But today's post isn't about me. It's about all the loonies I see everyday in the city, on my bus, muttering or ranting to themselves, smelling like a toilet and looking as though they've fallen through the cracks of the matrix.
And I wonder to myself - sure, London is a tough city. It's big, intimidating, unfriendly, harsh etc etc. But is that an excuse to go off the deep end and creep out tourists and old ladies on buses by telling them that the little purple men have taken over the government and HQ is in your left pinky?
I mean, really. Jo'burg is a far harsher place to live and therefore making it easier for a person to lose thier grip on this reality. But then where are we hiding all the Jozi crazies? And why isn't Ken Livingstone (mayor of London) not rounding the crazies up over here instead of tearing down major historical music sites (read:The Astoria) to replace them with railnetworks (which we frankly don't need).

Unless of course its the weather that is that final little nudge you need to fall into the mentally unstable abyss. If that's the case, then someone, please, bring me a straitjacket. I feel the madness approaching.