The Roll With The Hole

The last time I felt the unforgiving urge for food at some un-godly hour, I found myself somewhere I stumble upon all too often these days. This place may seem like a normal bagel shop, where the little beauties come rolling, warm and soft out of the oven, and are then sliced and ceremoniously stuffed with anything from salt beef and cream cheese to chocolate and peanut butter. But my suspicions force me to suspect this Brick Lane bagel shop was in fact built on ancient ley lines that seek to remove all normal sense of thought and behavior. The realist in me quickly persuades my suspicious side that this lack of sensibility among the bagel shops occupants is more likely due to the crack epidemic of the 1980's. However, my brief flirtation with the idea that a druid once built this place in exact alignment with Stonehenge tells me I fit in perfectly with the other clientèle. As I wait impatiently, for mash head after absolute mash head to deliberate over the relative merits of sausages and/or bacon, a man asks me politely for a cigarette. I oblige, and watch as he crumbles the tobacco up in his hand. My assumption was that this was for a spliff he might later roll. "Enjoy the zoot" I said. He replied with complete nonchalance "No, no, I only smoke crack and heroin, weed makes me paranoid". Go eat a bagel on brick lane, they taste of alternate reality.