Return of the Grin

I am licking the pavements, I am kissing the pigeons, I am giving to beggars; I have returned to the city of my love and it smacks to be back. I hit the ground running, I take a shower in three minutes, I buy a train ticket and a pie and it costs me ten pounds, I dive in the doors with seconds to spare, I cut more people up than a peckham-based pathologist. Nowhere do I feel more at home than the bleak, sleek streets of London. The skyline is in my blood, and I take deep inhalations of that chokey, smokey smog. And though this city is like a one-eyed dog with a gammy leg, and throaty growl, who you kinda think might just leap up and sink his frothing teeth into you at any point, the point is, it's my one-eyed frothy dog.