Читать книгу The World According to Vice - Vice Magazine - Страница 33

I haven’t eaten anything since Monday. I slept most of the day to try and kill the hunger pains but was jostled awake by my new squat buddies, Lauren and Kerri. They told me about some bins behind the local Marks & Spencer, in Elephant & Castle, that were a gold mine for just-out-of-date food. We headed over to see what the trash was serving for dinner.

Kerri was pretty optimistic after previous raids had yielded untold gourmet wonders. She brought along one of those shopping trolleys that your great-aunt Edna might use. Everyone was in high spirits. As we rounded the back of M&S, disaster struck: a huge security fence had been erected around our expired morsels.

Like good crusties, we pulled the fence apart so Kerri could slip inside. After a root around in the huge bins, our worst fears came true: we had been beaten to the punch by fellow freegans. All that was left were some chocolate éclairs. My stomach was eating its own lining at this point so I started stuffing my face. Each slightly sweaty, turd-shaped dough popsicle tasted better than the last.