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You've probably had a mate or partner who believes it won't happen to them, they're too smart, they can handle it, but over time their concept of moderation adjusts, their definition of normality adapts, and it isn't long before they've decoupled from reality. The once charming cerebral confidence begins to harden into self-serving arrogance, their sense of reason becomes increasingly skewed, mainly transmitting, rarely receiving, empathy having long since left town. The new normal, along with the come-downs, the mood swings, the hatred of humanity, including themselves especially themselves and there's only one quick fix; the cause itself, using, abusing, raiding the brain's medicine cabinet, giving nothing back, and it isn't long before the person you loved, whose company you once cherished, has transformed before your very eyes into an almighty cunt.
It also struck me that when describing a typical cokehead, particularly the city-boy-rugger-bugger variety, it's hard not to think of Boris Johnson, and when you consider his entire reign in this context it all starts to make sense. Prolonged cocaine use would certainly shed some light on the driving force behind this self-serving narcissist; the man who proclaimed "Let the bodies pile high" during Covid; who bullied his own staff; who tried to create a dictatorship by proroguing parliament; who sold dodgy Covid contracts to his mates and mistresses; who gaslit the care sector and then the entire nation with lie after lie after lie, and when questioned on cocaine use, claimed he'd once had a "sniff" though he "may have been doing icing sugar."
The cops discovered cocaine in eleven of the twelve parliamentary toilets, including Johnson's private facilities. There was no inquiry, no drug tests, no arrests, no follow-up, so no one ever concluded the former occupier of No.10 was harbouring a cheeky coke habit. If the cops had found the same evidence in some student halls during lockdown, would they have shrugged their shoulders and walked away? Didn't they say democracy ends when police and state become one?
Johnson was not alone, a few years back the socials were awash with footage of then cabinet minister Michael Gove munted off his chops, dancing like a gibbon in an Aberdeen nightclub. Search the words George Osborne, Cocaine and PMQs and you'll find a video from the heady days of the coalition with Osborne on the front bench, dead-eyed, bedraggled, like he'd had his nose to his phone all night. Douglas McWilliams, adviser to Osborne and Johnson, was found sucking on a crack pipe in a north London drug den bust. A friend of my brother's attended Oxford Uni same time as Osborne, said he had a reputation for procuring top-quality gear. I thought it was another urban rumour until a story (and photo) of him doing lines with a dominatrix hit the tabloids. I'm not saying the former Chancellor of the Exchequer was a dealer whilst at Oxford Uni, I'm just saying...
But all this is just the tip of the snowberg, because this cheeky little habit's ubiquitous within the chambers of government and corridors of power; they're all at it, okay not all, but a fuck of a lot. So, if you've been wondering where all the good shit's been going, there's your answer. A political aid going back way further than Johnson's imbecilic government, indeed it was the high-octane fuel powering Blair and Campbell's neoliberal embracing project 'Cool Britannia PLC', as Jarvis Cocker describes in Pulp's epic number 'Cocaine Socialism'; arguably 'Common People's spiritual successor, but Jarvis bottled it and rewrote it as 'Glory Days', which he's since admitted "was about nothing really."
Searching For Satori Through A Starbucks Straw