Brent Cross vs Ben

After hurtling through repetitive suburbia we finally reached the temple of Buy This Now! Entering by a side cavity, navigating a forrest of lamps followed by a veritable treasure trove of tack. Things you never thought you needed but you do, you so do, you know you do: flamingo shaped cutlery, one of a kind pillow covers, draft excluders with silk embroidery ooooh...



Once we cleared death trap John Lewis, the main, people clogged arteries of Brent Cross lay ahead. I passed a stand that told me because I and everyone else here is an idiot, 'YOU ARE EXPERIENCING HD' but was it referring to the TV screen or the high definition hell hole all around?

Dodging, and in some cases, simply cutting through Paris Hilton clones, like overgrown orange vines. If it wasn't the Paris Hiltonities, there were wannabe gangstaaas or bloodied consumer zombies. I was in Dawn of the Dead sans a baseball bat. This is exactly the sort of reason we should sell guns in this country.


Staggering into HMV, mentally wounded, I found what I'd been seeking. A massive sale of DVDs, which gods willing, none of the shop attendants would try and help me with, 'Apocalypse Now? I fink dat's under comedy you knowz.' The one upside; an attractive girl trying to sell Wiis. We can Wii anytime but not in my house, that's disgusting.

You should never ever, under any circumstances go to Brent Cross. It will only suck you in and then you'll have to work there, which is the same as being undead or trapped in Dante's Inferno. They've even got whole areas that are communication black-holes, you can't even ring for a evac. Crucify the Cross!