DEATH TO THE GODS OF MOUNT OLYMPUS
ZEUS OVER OUR DEAD BODIES
The lower Lea valley and its peripheral enclaves are an embarrassment to the moguls and ministers of Whitehall. Leyton is the embodiment of Foster and partners worst nightmares, they peer at it and fail to see themselves reflected back.
If it ever seemed possible that middle class fools with no imagination could make a sanitised sweep across the whole city look to Leyton for a last shred of hope. Leyton defies it, even if the Beaumont Estate and its three majestic towers lie in dusty heaps Leyton will never become the gleaming sanitised vision of their boring neo liberal plans. Look at Temple Mills, millennial mediocrity, ubiquitous corrugated curves over post modern hangars, already it is being drawn irresistably back into the dirt, back into the sucking bogs and greedy marshes.
The landscaping has become a tangle of coke cans and trolleys, saplings are snapped in random acts of vicious boredom and buddleia punctures the dusty tarmac.
London 2012, who the fuck wants it except middle England pricks in their executive homes, WPC’s with names like Sally and Gaynor and a raft of deluded idiots who don’t realise local opportunities means shit jobs in the service industry. The Golden Arches loom large over this grotesque scheme, another gateway, another fucking Gulag.
Leyton will resist because there is an undercurrent of psychick viciousness. The vistas of pylons and motorway flyovers cannot be as easily eradicated here as they were on the planners board.
From Hitchcock to the savagery of Zulu’s bar, the violence is always simmering under the surface.
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