Week 4

Gordo: I want to pick up on the subject of immigration again. I am not sure whether we really covered enough ground last time. I mean – as a topic – how big is immigration? Would you say that it’s bigger than God?

Me: I am not sure it as big as God. I just think that there is more proof that it exists.

Gordo: Much of your work, perhaps understandably, does cover the subject. Yet although your critique of reactionary conservativism would place you firmly on the left wing, you do not expressly endorse the Left. Why is that?

Me: Well I am not sure that it would be appropriate for me to do so. I was born in London. I am in my early 30s. Yet I have never voted. Not even once. It would be disingenuous for me to expressly endorse a political party or a position which I would never vote for. It is not the way I choose to engage with politics anyway – if I engage at all.

Gordo: So you would never come out and explicitly support any position on immigration?

Me: No, not really. That’s the job of politicians. I am not a politician. I think for me it is more important to adhere to basic standards of artistic integrity than to express my political views. If that means that I am saying different things at different times in order to be true to my own thoughts, which also means that I cannot affiliate myself easily with any political party, I am fine with that. My personal aim is to think about things in a truthful and rigorous way and then see if there is any humour to be derived from those thoughts. I mean people who read what I write will probably be able to figure out what I really think anyway. But I am less interested in spelling that out for people.

Gordo: But then you run the danger of being badly misinterpreted?

Me: Yes. I suppose I do. It’s almost the subject of a play really isn’t it?

Gordo: Not a good one, no.

Me: Fair enough. But look I think the thing with the immigration issue is I can understand why it is so hard to get to grips with. Immigration itself is changing all of the time.

In this country it used to be about people who were already British coming to Britain although they knew that they were never going to be seen as fully British or welcome in Britain by the indigenous British.

Today it’s not so much about people coming here with close cultural or historical links to Britain and trying to fit in within a rigid definition of Britishness. People are almost seeing Britain as a blank slate upon which anyone can carve their own identity.

So I am not really sure what I think about that. But I am not sure whether immigrants really know what they think about it either.

I mean look, today in most coffee shops across the country, most of the staff are beautiful women from Eastern and Central Europe. But the question is whether that’s really a good thing.

Those jobs could be done by less attractive and less friendly British women.

And I do understand that this is a controversial question but the question is – is having these jobs done by beautiful women from Eastern and Central Europe such a good thing for the British?

And I know that there are arguments both ways – but I think some people could argue that it is not so good for British men – because men from the sphere of Western liberal capitalist affluence are too primed by Western liberal capitalism to acquire the misguided but ultimately comforting belief that the routine transactional nature of ordering and paying for coffee represents a deeper romantic and sexual on the moment tryst between them and the barista, yeah? Do you know what I mean?

Like last week I went into a Costa Coffee shop in Hampstead on my way to work. And I saw this very beautiful angelic looking lady behind the counter. And she was wearing a name tag which indicated that her name was “Magda”. But there was not one of those little flags which tells you which country they’re from.

And I thought “God, that’s annoying. That’s less helpful, isn’t it? I mean ideally it’s good to know the country before you start…you know what I mean?”

Well anyway this sort of bald middle aged white British man (pretty average looking) was ahead of me in the queue. And he ordered a “Caramel Machiatto” but when Magda smiled at him and told him to enjoy the rest of his day, his whole face seemed to light up, yeah? It was like Cocoon by Caramel Macchiatto.

And I was staring at her meanwhile wondering where she was from. I thought maybe Belarus. The women from Belarus are very beautiful. But we don’t really get as many over here because they’re not in the…you know.

Well anyway then my go came, and I ordered a “Medium Coconut Latte”. And Magda smiled at me and told me to enjoy the rest of my day.

So then we went down to the end to collect our coffees. And Magda sort of dropped a pen or a spoon or something.

So I said “Well I think my day is going better than yours already. Haha.”

And she laughed and said. “It looks like that.” and looked up at me and smiled.

Then the bald guy saw what happened and interrupted and said

“Excuse me, MAGDA, but my Caramel Macchatto is too cold. I want it to be extra hot.”

And I thought, “How weird. It’s 35 degrees. It’s almost as if he only said that to get Magda’s attention back.”

So I said “Magda, sorry to interrupt your not so perfect day, but I need more coconut in my Medium Coconut Latte.”

And then the bald guy said, “Yeah and Magda, if you could add more sugar to my Caramel Cortado that really would be perfect.”

So I said to the bald guy. “Look, mate, I see what you’re trying to do. You know. With the whole perfect thing. I can understand why you want to use it too. But the thing is, that was my joke.”

And the bald guy said. “I didn’t see your name on it.”

And so I said “Excuse me, but a beautiful Eastern European woman just smiled at me whilst serving my coffee. If you don’t mind, I am kind of busy here...”

And then he said “They smile at everyone. That’s all part of the customer service experience.”

Then I said “Oh Magda, look you fashioned the milk froth of my coffee into a heart. That was sweet of you.”

Then he said “Oh look Magda, you did a heart with like a flower and a stalk thing in mine. That looks great. Almost as good as you do.”

And then I said “Look mate, no offence. But I’m tanned. It’s a better mix. Evolution says so.”

And then he said. “Yeah right. You’re not that tanned anyway. Plus Magda thinks you drink too much.”

And then he said. “Oh god Magda, sorry to do this for you. I need more Cortado in my Caramel.”

And then Magda said “Sorry, but I don’t understand what you mean.”

And then he said “Ok more Caramel in my Cortado then.”

And then I said. “God, you sicken me! Making up coffee related preferences in order to prolong your coffee based interaction with Magda. You are a sad, lonely little man!”

And then he said. “Yeah well. You sicken me too! Smelling of all that Davidoff Cool Water. In the hope that she might smell you and think “God, he smells all like cold water and refreshing.””

And then I said “Look mate, I didn’t want to reduce myself to this, but I’m taller and better looking than you. And more intelligent. And I have a better physique. And even a better job. So….you know? If you don’t mind.”

And then he said: “Magda doesn’t like men with black hair though, does she Magda?”

And then I said “Look I’m a writer. I can write about stuff. And then talk about the stuff I’ve written. To her. She would find that more interesting than going to spend time in the pub owned by your family every 2 weeks”.

And then he said “Nobody else enjoys your writing anyway. It’s not as clever or as funny as you think it is. Is it Magda?”

And I said. “Look Magda, I don’t even really know what a Medium Coconut Latte is to be honest. I just wanted to know whether you fancy a stroll in Gladstone Park? We can pick up some hunks of bread, cheese and some wine on the way and then eat and drink whilst walking and talking. But still look sexy”.

And then Magda said. “Erm, no I am sorry. I do not like bread, cheese or wine. Anyway, I am working.”

And then I said. “Well, have you ever tried Dairylea? It's like a cheese but it's much easier to spread. What does your diary look like next week?”

And then he said “Ok, I admit it! It was me! I’m the one whose been posting those Toblerones through your letterbox. It was me all along. You knew Madga, didn’t you? You knew! Oh the tragic futility of it all! You knew. Don’t hate me for it Magda. I only wanted to show you how much I cared. In the only way I could. By depositing triangular pieces of Swiss chocolate into your apartment through your letter box.”

And then I said “Magda does not care about your fucking Toblerone. Do you Magda? Magda has real class. Unlike some people….She only eats Ferrero Rochers and Lindt….and shit like that.”

And then he basically swung for me, but his punch missed, although he managed to entangle his arm with my neck and we both fell down and starting rolling around on the floor.

And I knocked over a tray of cakes by mistake and started to choke him with a sort of chocolatey croissant type thing.

And I said. “You really thought that a girl like Magda would eat your Toblerone? You filthy pig! Well eat this!”.

And he said “Look I think this joke has gone far enough! That’s always been your problem hasn’t it? You only ever want to amuse yourself.”

And then Magda screamed “Look!! Stop! If you don’t both stop, I am going to have to call the police! I know what is going on here. I think I know what you are both thinking. And I don’t think you are bad guys. You are just….British guys. I am not the person you think I am. I cannot give you what you want. I was a doctor in Warsaw. I am only in London for 6 months. To learn English. Then I am moving to New York for work with my fiancé. I am studying a Post Grad degree at Columbia. My fiancé is from Warsaw too. He is a diplomat. He is also taller and better looking than you. And more intelligent. And has a better physique. And even a better job. Than both of you. I am sorry that I am saying things which you did not expect to hear from me. But I am only saying them because I have to work. The queue of customers behind you is now 86 people long. I have counted them. Don’t worry about the cofffees. You don’t have to pay for them. I will take the money out of my salary. But seriously. I really do need to get back to work. I am sorry I was not what you expected. But I do not have the time to explain my life story to every British male customer I have in order to make sure that they do not mistake my serving coffee in a customer friendly way with sexual chemistry. You may still be able to meet the girls you wanted. Maybe try Starbucks.”

And then I thought to myself. “That was a bit weird. Why didn’t she just say that in the first place? I can see why people voted for Brexit.””